Hereditary

Hereditary (2018) – Movie Diary Introduction Going into this movie, I knew nothing. I didn’t even know it was an A24 film until the credits started rolling. That alone got me excited because A24 consistently delivers quality, thought-provoking films. The only things I had heard were that Hereditary was one of the scariest movies of all time and that it was a masterclass in storytelling. I had no idea what kind of horror I was in for—I just knew I wanted to experience it for myself. Cinematography – 9/10 The cinematography in Hereditary is one of its greatest strengths. Ari Aster and cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski crafted a film that visually unsettles the viewer just as much as its narrative does. From the very first shot, where the camera zooms into one of Annie’s miniature models, seamlessly transitioning into the real house, we’re given a subtle but powerful indication of how much control the film has over its world—just like how Paimon’s cult controls the family’s fate. The film frequently uses wide shots that make the Graham family appear small and insignificant within their home, reinforcing the idea that they are powerless. The dollhouse aesthetic, especially in Annie’s miniatures, creates an eerie sense that these characters are merely pieces in a larger, meticulously planned game—one orchestrated by forces beyond their comprehension. The use of shadows and negative space is another highlight. There are moments when figures lurk in the background, barely visible at first, making the audience question if they’re really there. The film’s ability to build horror through subtle visual storytelling rather than cheap jump scares is masterful. One of my favorite aspects was the slow, deliberate camera movement. Instead of relying on quick cuts, Hereditary often keeps the camera moving in long, single takes, making scenes feel even more immersive. A great example is the dinner scene, where the tension builds as the camera lingers, allowing the performances to shine without interruption. Pacing – 8/10 The pacing in Hereditary is methodical, designed to draw the viewer deeper into the Graham family’s unraveling psyche. The first act is slow but purposeful, focusing on character development, grief, and an eerie sense of something being off. The second act ramps up tension as the supernatural elements become more pronounced. This is where the film transitions from psychological horror to something more explicitly disturbing. Annie’s descent into madness, Peter’s growing paranoia, and Steve’s futile attempts to keep the family together all contribute to an overwhelming feeling of dread. The third act, while still effective, feels slightly rushed. Once the full scope of the cult’s manipulation is revealed, things escalate quickly. While I appreciate that horror films need to maintain a sense of urgency in their final moments, I think Hereditary could have benefited from an extra 15–20 minutes to let its climax breathe. That said, the tension never fully lets up, and the film remains engaging from start to finish. Emotion – 10/10 Few horror films are able to blend genuine emotional weight with terror as seamlessly as Hereditary. This isn’t just a scary movie—it’s a devastating portrayal of grief, guilt, and the horrors of family. The emotions in this movie feel raw and authentic, making the supernatural horror elements hit even harder. At its core, Hereditary is about how trauma and pain are passed down through generations, much like the cult’s influence over the Graham family. The film never lets you forget that these characters are suffering, and it doesn’t shy away from showing the ugly, messy reality of their emotions. One of the most gut-wrenching moments is when Charlie dies. The way this scene is executed is haunting. There’s no dramatic music, no over-the-top reaction—just Peter sitting in silent, suffocating shock. The camera lingers on him as he struggles to process what just happened. Then, the morning comes, and we hear Annie’s anguished screams. That sequence alone sets Hereditary apart from other horror films—it forces you to sit in the unbearable weight of loss. The emotional devastation continues to spiral. Annie’s grief turns into resentment, Peter’s guilt isolates him, and Steve tries to hold everything together while crumbling inside. Every interaction between them is charged with unspoken pain, especially in the dinner scene. The way Annie finally explodes at Peter, blaming him outright for Charlie’s death, feels like the breaking point of years of buried resentment. It’s uncomfortable, heartbreaking, and entirely believable. The horror in Hereditary works so well because it’s grounded in real emotional turmoil. You’re not just scared for these characters—you feel for them. Story – 8.5/10 The story of Hereditary is as much about grief and trauma as it is about the supernatural. At its heart, it’s a film about a family trying—and failing—to hold itself together in the wake of tragedy. The first half plays like a psychological drama. Annie is trying to navigate her mother’s death while dealing with unresolved issues from their past. Peter is struggling with guilt and detachment, while Steve is quietly suffering, trying to be the rational one in a house that’s slowly collapsing. Then comes Charlie’s death, and the horror elements slowly creep in. The way the film introduces the cult’s influence is subtle at first—Joan appears as a helpful presence, séances feel like a desperate attempt to reconnect with lost loved ones—but before long, it becomes clear that this family was doomed from the start. They were never in control of their fate. Paimon’s cult had been pulling the strings all along. What makes Hereditary so effective is that, even though it has supernatural elements, the horror still feels deeply personal. It’s not just about a demon possessing a boy—it’s about how families destroy themselves from the inside out. Characters – 9.5/10 Annie Graham (Toni Collette) Toni Collette delivers one of the most powerful performances I’ve ever seen in a horror film—arguably in any genre. Her portrayal of Annie is nothing short of phenomenal. She doesn’t just play a grieving mother; she fully embodies the weight of trauma, guilt, paranoia, and despair. Annie is a deeply complex character. At the start of the film, she seems emotionally distant, almost detached from her family, which makes sense given her troubled relationship with her late mother. She attends a grief support group not so much to find comfort but to finally voice her repressed feelings. As she speaks, we get a glimpse into just how much pain and dysfunction have been passed down through generations in her family—her father’s suicide, her brother’s schizophrenia (which she later realizes was likely a result of the cult’s influence), and her mother’s secrecy. Her arc is heartbreaking because she wants to be a good mother, but she is burdened by things she doesn’t fully understand. She carries guilt over her inability to connect with her children, and that guilt is only amplified when Charlie dies. The dinner scene is a masterclass in acting—Annie’s barely contained rage and sorrow explode in one of the most intense confrontations I’ve seen in a film. The way she looks at Peter, the venom in her voice, the way her entire body seems to be holding back years of pain—Toni Collette deserved every award for that scene alone. As the film progresses, Annie’s descent into madness feels both inevitable and tragic. She turns to séances, desperate to make sense of what’s happening. She believes she’s found a way to reconnect with Charlie, but in reality, she’s falling into the trap set by the cult. The moment she realizes she’s been manipulated is devastating, and the final act of the film is pure nightmare fuel. Her death, possessed and beyond saving, is one of the most horrifying moments in the film. What makes Annie such an incredible character is that she is both terrifying and deeply sympathetic. She is a mother consumed by grief, unable to protect her family from forces she doesn’t understand. Her story is one of inevitability—she was always a pawn in something larger, no matter how hard she fought against it. Peter Graham (Alex Wolff) If Toni Collette carried the first two acts of the movie, Alex Wolff carried the third. His performance as Peter is raw, gut-wrenching, and disturbingly real. Peter starts off as your typical distant teenage son—smoking weed, avoiding responsibility, and staying out of family drama. But when Charlie dies, everything shifts. His reaction to her death is one of the most hauntingly realistic portrayals of shock I’ve ever seen. The way he simply drives home, gets into bed, and waits for morning, unable to even look at what happened, is so painfully human. He knows his life has changed forever, but he is too afraid to face it. As the film progresses, Peter becomes increasingly isolated. His mother resents him, his father barely acknowledges his existence, and he is haunted by terrifying visions and unexplained occurrences. His guilt over Charlie’s death eats away at him, but he has no one to turn to. His mother openly admits that she never wanted him, and the emotional distance between them is too vast to bridge. The way Peter breaks down in the third act is terrifying. When he sees his father burned alive, you can feel every ounce of his fear and despair. The way he whimpers “Mom?” when he sees Annie hanging from the ceiling is one of the most chilling moments in the movie. By the time Paimon fully takes over his body, Peter is completely broken—emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The cult didn’t just need his body; they needed to destroy him first. Wolff’s performance is deeply unsettling because it feels so real. He doesn’t overact. His reactions to the horror around him are raw and unfiltered, making the film’s climax all the more disturbing. Score – 8.5/10 Colin Stetson’s score is eerie, oppressive, and unforgettable. It doesn’t rely on traditional horror music cues but instead builds an unsettling atmosphere through deep, droning sounds and off-kilter melodies. One of the most effective aspects of the sound design is the use of silence. The film doesn’t always rely on music to tell you when to be scared. Instead, it allows quiet moments to linger, making the tension unbearable. The clicking sound that Charlie makes is another brilliant touch—what starts as a seemingly innocent habit becomes an ominous signal of Paimon’s presence later in the film. The music in the final act is particularly haunting. When Peter, now fully possessed by Paimon, stands in front of the cult, the score is both grand and horrifying, signaling his complete transformation. The film doesn’t end with a traditional horror crescendo but with a slow, eerie fade-out that leaves you in stunned silence. Overall Rating – 5/5 Stars Hereditary is one of the most terrifying and emotionally devastating films I’ve ever seen. It’s not just a horror movie—it’s a psychological and emotional assault on the viewer. Every element—cinematography, pacing, emotion, story, and performances—comes together to create something truly unforgettable. This film isn’t about cheap scares. It’s about the slow, inescapable horror of realizing you were never in control. The true terror of Hereditary isn’t Paimon—it’s grief, trauma, and the ways families destroy each other from the inside. It’s a movie that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll, and I’ll be thinking about it for a long time. If you haven’t seen it yet, I can’t recommend it enough—just be prepared for an experience that will stick with you. Film Details  • Director: Ari Aster  • Main Cast:  • Toni Collette as Annie Graham  • Alex Wolff as Peter Graham  • Milly Shapiro as Charlie Graham  • Gabriel Byrne as Steve Graham  • Ann Dowd as Joan  • Score Composer: Colin Stetson