Hereditary

Hereditary (2018) Review EVERY FAMILY TREE HIDES A SECRET  This is my thirty-first film I’m watching from my wheel spinner list…and man was I happy when I found out this one was the winner. I had heard all the buzz around this movie for quite some time now—and going into this film I was both excited yet scared. Straight off the bat I’ll say… It’s not often that a film shakes me to my core the way “Hereditary” did. This is more than a horror film to me—it’s a harrowing emotional experience that will probably stay with you like a scar. Ari Aster’s gives us a deeply unsettling journey into grief, trauma, mental illness, and the dark legacy that families pass down through generations. It is easily one of the most powerful and affecting films I’ve ever seen, and without question, it earns its place as a modern horror masterpiece. At its core, “Hereditary” is the story of the Graham family: Annie, her husband Steve, and their two children, Peter and Charlie. After the death of Annie’s mysterious mother, the family begins to unravel. But what initially feels like a tragic family drama soon morphs into something far more sinister. I adored the blend of supernatural horror with psychological trauma—in which often I couldn’t tell where one ends and the other begins. This ambiguity, this blurring of the real and the unreal, is one of the film’s greatest strengths. From the very first frame I fu#ken knew this was gonna be a wild film—when the camera moved into the miniature house and dissolved into the real setting—The meticulous production design, the suffocatingly still cinematography, and the oppressive sound design all contribute to a tone of constant unease. The house itself feels like a trap, like a stage built for suffering. It’s not just a setting—it’s a character. Many people say the music or other film elements can be characters themselves—and that’s 100% true…but for “Hereditary” the house is a character itself. So many hidden layers, and a stage for total chaos. I’ll talk about the actual characters now—because this is probably the horror movie I’ve cared most for the characters. They’re the emotional and thematic core of this film. Annie (Toni Collette) is the most compelling protagonists in modern horror for me personally. She’s a mother barely holding herself together, haunted not just by the death of her mother but by a lifetime of psychological wounds. As the film progresses, we learn just how broken her family history is—suicides, mental illness & secrecy—and I thought that Collette captured every emotional beat with astonishing precision. Her performance is raw, explosive, and, frankly, Oscar-worthy in every sense of the word. That she wasn’t even nominated is arguably the biggest snub in the history of the Academy Awards. Few actors are ever given a role this rich, and even fewer deliver with this level of commitment. Peter (Alex Wolff) is equally devastating. His arc—from disconnected teen to guilt-ridden survivor to eventual vessel of unspeakable horror—is portrayed with heartbreaking authenticity. The scene where he sits silently in the car after Charlie’s death, unable to look back, unable to even speak, is one of the most gut-wrenching pieces of acting I’ve seen. No music, no dialogue—just silence, dread, and the horror of knowing what just happened. That scene truly broke me—from the shock and aftermath of it all. And then, the next morning, Annie’s bloodcurdling scream—my stomach dropped. Watching this movie late at night was definitely a decision I regretted…but it made the experience better. That moment wasn’t just shocking. It was traumatic. Ari Aster didn’t  just show me horror—he made me feel it. Then there’s Charlie (Milly Shapiro), whose presence lingered almost like a ghost throughout the entire film. From the unsettling tongue clicks which I probably won’t ever get out of my head, to her eerily vacant expression, she exudes something otherworldly even before the film’s major supernatural turns. Her death—sudden, graphic, and deeply unexpected—is one of the most shocking scenes in any horror film I’ve ever seen.That scene marked a turning point—not just in the film’s plot, but in its emotional tone. From that moment on, there’s no safety, no predictability, no comfort. Everything feels cursed. And that’s where the horror truly takes root. As Annie spirals into grief, she’s introduced to the idea of communicating with Charlie through a séance, thanks to the seemingly kind Joan. This is where the film begins to peel back the layers of its occult plot, slowly, methodically, terrifyingly. It’s not just a ghost story. It’s a story about fate, about being manipulated, about having no control over your own life because the horror has been embedded in your bloodline long before you were born. It’s about legacy—the kind we can’t escape. The séance scene is brilliantly executed. When Annie believes she’s made contact, her transformation from skeptic to believer is almost manic. Her desperation is palpable, and it’s impossible not to empathize with her—she’s not just trying to scare herself or dabble in the occult. She’s a mother trying to reach her dead child. The supernatural elements feel earned because they’re grounded in such deeply human pain. And then, there’s the final act. Pure, unrelenting terror. Annie crawling on the ceiling like an fcken insect. The camera flipping perspectives. The eerie blue lighting. The silent, brutal image of her sawing off her own fuken head in the attic as Peter watches in horror. And then the final sequence—a dreamlike, surreal ritual where Peter, now Paimon’s host, is crowned by the cultists. It’s horrifying in its calmness. The score fades into an almost sacred hymn. The final shot isn’t loud or violent—it’s reverent. Chillingly reverent. The movie ended…and I couldn’t believe what I had just watched. If a horror film makes me think and feel the ways I did with this movie….then you know you’ve done a brilliant job. The horror in “Hereditary” is so effective because it doesn’t rely on jump scares or gore (though it uses both masterfully when it chooses to). The real fear comes from the characters’ emotional truths—from grief, from mental illness, from the realization that our lives may be controlled by forces far beyond our understanding. It’s existential horror. It’s spiritual horror. And it’s rooted in everyday pain. The score of the film cannot go unmentioned. It doesn’t just underscore the horror—it is the horror. It groans, it shrieks, it pulses with menace. It turns quiet scenes into unbearable ones, and loud scenes into unforgettable ones. It’s one of the most effective horror scores ever composed in my opinion. Overall, “Hereditary” is a perfect horror movie. Everything blew me away far beyond my expectations. From the general consensus I knew how highly regarded this horror film was—but it impressed me higher than ever. Despite how strongly I feel about this movie, I’m not giving it a perfect score yet. Not because it lacks anything—but because it’s such a layered, detailed, thematically rich film that I genuinely believe I need to see it multiple more times to catch everything it’s doing. Every frame is loaded with subtext. Every prop, every transition, every sound cue—none of it is accidental. This is a film made with total control and deep intention, and I suspect it’ll only grow in power the more I revisit it. “Hereditary” is for sure a landmark in horror cinema. It’s emotionally devastating, visually precise, thematically bold, and relentlessly terrifying. It doesn’t just aim to scare—it aims to confront. It weaponises grief, memory, and family, and turns them into something monstrous. (5 stars ⭐️ out of 5). (9.6/10).     96/100