Important to know straight off -- this isn't a horror film or a creature feature. This is a film about that two-headed coin: fear and faith. It's about what our minds conjure up when we let our fears get the better of us, and it's about what our minds conjure up when we hope or pray. As many people have said, this film takes its time in bringing on 'the monster'. Seemingly, that is so, but if you put away the usual limited way of looking at horror movies, you will realize that the 'monster' appears fairly early on in the film. You can't see it; you only feel its presence. If you were paying attention, you'll know that the Wendigo isn't a monster, it's a spirit, and it can change its size and shape at will. The catch is
. the will does not belong to the Wendigo, it belongs to those who conjure the Wendigo. If the imagination holds on to fear, the Wendigo will take the shape of that fear, like a chimera. It may appear as drops of blood, or as a sudden gust of snow, or as a giant deer with dragon breath (notice that the reason the 'monster' image of the Wendigo looks rather cheesy is because that is all a very young boy can muster in his mind. Chances are, the little boy's parents haven't let him watch "Alien" yet!). If it is hope you need to conjure, the Wendigo will go where you want it to go and be what you want it to be (the father's description of how "easily" he got to the house after he'd been shot sounds like he had a little help there!). The Wendigo will also create havoc for those who deserve a nasty fate. It cannot kill, but it can create enough fear in a person to drive himself (in one case, literally) to his own demise. In other words, what devours us isn't a boogie man with sharp teeth, it is our fear that devours us.
There is a reason that this film spends most of its first hour in the presence of the family as it goes through everyday rituals and discussions. There is a tension that is penetrating that normalcy. We - and the characters at different times - are aware of the bullet holes in the walls, of the menacing presence of the creepy neighbor, and of the resonating grisly demise of that deer on the road. The father's feeling of helplessness gets triggered against his wife and son. The Wendigo takes the form of that aggression too. Before the father goes on the sled we see him playacting murdering his son. It is a game, and his son is never realistically threatened, but the father needed to do this in order to vent out his aggression (subconsciously of course). The film smartly tells its story from the viewpoint of the young boy. Smartly for one reason because it is the core of fear that really scares us, and that core began at a very young age. Remember the shadows in the corner of your room that seemed to swallow up the furniture with their darkness? Remember the overcoat that limply hung on the closet door looking like a hanging dead man? Or how about the breeze outside your house that whistled through the branches as they clawed at your window? They're all innocent and harmless things, yet we practically scared ourselves to death as kids by letting our imaginations (our little Wendigos) run wild. The film also is smart to tell its story through the little boy because he is going to learn something that he will take with him into adulthood. He will face death and embrace it and let it go (the scene in the hospital where his father is in surgery, and then after the father dies). It is a rite of passage. The little boy will now be able to fill his father's shoes (metaphorically, despite the literal image!).
This movie is the stuff of myths. It is what horror originally was in the movies. Today with terrorists and serial killers, it's easy to get lost in horror as 'reality'. Slasher movies have championed the literal with realistic special effects, offering little to feed our need for fantasy. If you look back into your childhood, you will find what you yourself planted there long ago. Your imagination. Your appreciation for this movie will depend on how much of that you have retained.
There is a reason that this film spends most of its first hour in the presence of the family as it goes through everyday rituals and discussions. There is a tension that is penetrating that normalcy. We - and the characters at different times - are aware of the bullet holes in the walls, of the menacing presence of the creepy neighbor, and of the resonating grisly demise of that deer on the road. The father's feeling of helplessness gets triggered against his wife and son. The Wendigo takes the form of that aggression too. Before the father goes on the sled we see him playacting murdering his son. It is a game, and his son is never realistically threatened, but the father needed to do this in order to vent out his aggression (subconsciously of course). The film smartly tells its story from the viewpoint of the young boy. Smartly for one reason because it is the core of fear that really scares us, and that core began at a very young age. Remember the shadows in the corner of your room that seemed to swallow up the furniture with their darkness? Remember the overcoat that limply hung on the closet door looking like a hanging dead man? Or how about the breeze outside your house that whistled through the branches as they clawed at your window? They're all innocent and harmless things, yet we practically scared ourselves to death as kids by letting our imaginations (our little Wendigos) run wild. The film also is smart to tell its story through the little boy because he is going to learn something that he will take with him into adulthood. He will face death and embrace it and let it go (the scene in the hospital where his father is in surgery, and then after the father dies). It is a rite of passage. The little boy will now be able to fill his father's shoes (metaphorically, despite the literal image!).
This movie is the stuff of myths. It is what horror originally was in the movies. Today with terrorists and serial killers, it's easy to get lost in horror as 'reality'. Slasher movies have championed the literal with realistic special effects, offering little to feed our need for fantasy. If you look back into your childhood, you will find what you yourself planted there long ago. Your imagination. Your appreciation for this movie will depend on how much of that you have retained.