A young couple get more than they bargained for when they translate a rare folk ballad in this effective Irish horror.
The exploitation and commercialisation of ancient artefacts is punishable by a fate that may be worse than death in Paul Duane’s nightmarish read on Irish folk tradition. The investigative structure and the central idea of an artwork that holds terrible ramifications for all who encounter it gives this literate, slowburn fiction debut the feel of a modern J-Horror: Hideo Nakata’s Ring and Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Pulse come to mind.
It sees a pair of amateur musicologists, Anna (Simone Collins) and Aleks (Charlie Maher), going undercover in the Irish folk scene in an attempt to make a fast buck by punting on near-extinct sounds to ominous Lynchian collectors.
A tip leads them to a potentially huge score, but the song they eventually hear causes all manner of violent, supernatural and transformative upsets. Gilding the lore and poetics of Irish folk music with overt gothic embellishments – via Ian Lynch’s sludgy, doom-laden score and a visual aesthetic of flickering electric lamps – Duane’s film takes a timeworn narrative conceit and works it in intriguing new directions.
Its final reel draws in themes of gender fluidity, sexual longing and generational trauma which, though bold in their execution, don’t entirely gel with what’s come prior. But this is a grimly refreshing and confident toe-dip into the world of horror, and we hope Duane choses to revisit this atmospherically murky pool.
Little White Lies is committed to championing great movies and the talented people who make them.
Published 16 Apr 2024
Big fans of Duane’s doc work, especially 2011’s Barbaric Genius.
You can tell that everyone involved in the making really understood and appreciated the assignment.
Doesn’t quite stick the landing, but it’s a memorable, confident and inquiring fiction debut.
Ben Wheatley goes back to basics in this understated yet supremely effective 21st century folk horror.
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