Relic (2020)

Watching a horror movie in a darkened theater late at night is naturally a different experience than viewing it from a treadmill during daylight hours. So many films require those looming shadows’ proximity to elevate what appears on the screen that I sometimes feel pricks of guilt for swatting away the atmosphere enhancers they can typically count on. But another part of me justifiably points out that what matters is what the film presents on the screen, not outside of it. Good horror should frighten in any room. 

 

Early on, Relic proved its horror movie bonafides by putting me on edge while sunlight flitted in through the venetian blinds on my left. Nothing present felt truly fresh—murky water, dark figures on the edge of the frame, a dusty home bathed in eerie blue and gray light and stuffed to the gills with candles and curios—but I felt creeped out as the world of the film gnawed at me. Relic takes its time, building suspense and begging questions for much of its run time, so that atmospheric discomfort went a long way toward keeping me invested, particularly with a story that treaded recognizable terrain. 

That story: Kay (Emily Mortimer) and her daughter Sam (Bella Heathcote) travel to the country to check on grandmother Edna (Robyn Nevin) who has gone missing. Gran flooded the house the previous Christmas and, since she’s past 80 and struggling with her memory, all parties blame dementia. After a few days searching, Edna appears in the kitchen as if nothing has happened, but not before strange happenings reach the home. Edna suffers mysterious bruises, the neighbor boy is afraid to visit, Kay awakes from nightmares about a forest cottage featuring the same stained glass window as Edna’s house, and there inexplicable pounding and scratching can be heard inside the walls. Meanwhile Kay is researching nursing homes, Sam is trying to strike a balance, and Edna seems to be crumbling into one bizarre act after another. Is it dementia manifested, a malicious lurking spirit, or a mass hallucination caused by mold and rot in the time-worn home? Answers are elusive, especially as the house, Edna, and Kay all seem to be hiding respective somethings. 

Skimming that summary, you and I both surely catch a strong scent of familiarity. We’ve seen creepy houses, we’re no strangers to mysterious noises; even the intersection of mental unhealth and demons has been explored before. All of these are present and done effectively in Relic, but the familiarity of each element undercuts its potency. For two-thirds of the film, things are unsettling for sure but Relic struggles to separate from its genre predecessors. 

In the final act, though, things turn for the better (viewing-wise, at least; Kay, Sam, and Edna would quibble with my analysis). The anti-Encanto house becomes an MC Escher nightmarescape of claustrophobia and menace, Edna’s conflict with her daughter comes to a grisly head, and everything ties together into a wild bow that nonetheless cashes out the film. The ultimate conclusion isn’t grounded in reality per se, but it is grounded nicely within the universe of the film. I tend to prefer a mix of firm answers and open questions in my horror (the latter lends to a good haunting through the credits, if not further) so your mileage will vary here, but I felt that this one actually sticks the landing better than it sets one up. 

To its credit, Relic thrusts generations to the foreground from start to finish. This is a grandmother, daughter, and granddaughter in conflict with one another over the perils of passing time. Sam sees duty differently than her mother does, whose life with Edna shaped her own conflicting views on death and grieving. The rituals of aging and death also loom large here, both with the retirement home-versus-independence subplot but even literally: there’s an argument over a notable heirloom that resonates as well (particularly for me who wrote my creative writing final exam about a similar article of jewelry). Underneath everything that transpires is everyday horror: what happens when age leads our loved ones to death’s doorstep? I’m confident I will reach different conclusions than director Natalie Erika James’ film does, but that real stomach-churner of a question amplifies the less-grounded horror we see play out. 

Performance-wise, I found the cast’s work uneven. Nevin has the heaviest lifting to do and she is more than up to the task, flipping between anguished vacancy, bitter alertness, and a hollow rage that terrifies as much as any component of Relic. Heathcote won me over early, balancing Sam’s informative distance from Kay with earnest compassion without ever becoming above frustration; that is: she felt real. Mortimer, on the other hand, was a distant third for me despite being ostensibly the lead. This is probably a fault of the script—we see nightmares through Kay’s eyes rather than alongside her and she gets trapped a bit by the narrow characterization driven by both her judgment toward Sam’s fluid career trajectory and her cold insistence on a nursing home. I would say that Kay makes sense when everything fades to black, but that doesn’t retroactively change that her role was bland and almost trope-y for most of the runtime. 

I leave the film behind wondering about its titular relic. What was it? The creepy multi-level home with its water-stained walls and fresh locks? The artifact gifted then taken back that leaves a mark on Sam? Maybe it was the stained glass window with a dark backstory or the family photos that meet a disturbing end? Could it have been Edna herself or maybe, more broadly, those generational ties that bind us to those who leave us behind? The question is ultimately irrelevant—I understand that titles are marketing tools—but that curiosity confirms to me that something didn’t fully land for me in Relic. Perhaps I should have indulged in the horror movie vibes and watched under cover of night; I might then have drawn more from this then.

Ultimately, though, it’s fine for some elements of Relic to not quite hit for me. I imagine they could hit older crowds, especially those with an additional decade’s life experience. Sadly, the terrifyingly real horror at the film’s core is far more urgent for them. But Time is undefeated; we all face some true-life analog of Relicourselves someday.