Bring Her Back Movie Review
Horror films thrive on the poor decisions of their characters, and the Philippou brothers understand this better than most.
In their debut, Talk to Me, reckless teenagers treated a cursed embalmed hand as a party trick—a youthful bravado in its purest, stupidest form. Their follow-up, Bring Her Back, similarly revolves around questionable choices, but this time, the stakes are amplified. Characters’ bad decisions are made by young people still learning the world, and adults who should know better, making the horror all the more unbearable.
The film opens with a jarring sequence of grainy VHS footage depicting a sinister snuff tape-seance ritual. Faces are mangled, bodies dangle, and children’s voices waver between glee and terror. This haunting imagery recurs throughout the movie, unresolved and lingering like a dark memory, setting the tone for the psychological terror that unfolds.
Seventeen-year-old Andy (Billy Barratt) returns home one afternoon with his half-sister Piper (Sora Wong)—who is legally blind—to discover their father dead in the shower. Determined to become Piper’s guardian before reaching adulthood, Andy faces a system that sees only two vulnerable minors. The siblings are placed under the care of Laura (Sally Hawkins), a seemingly benevolent yet deeply unsettling foster mother.
Known for her warmth in roles such as The Shape of Water and Paddington, Hawkins flips her screen persona inside out. Laura smothers Piper with attention, insisting she is “the same” as her deceased daughter, while systematically undermining Andy. She drugs the children, orchestrates manic midnight dance parties, and humiliates Andy in ways designed to erode his confidence. The horror is intimate, domestic, and psychologically excruciating—far more unsettling than traditional gore or jump scares.
Barratt’s portrayal of Andy is a study in jittery defensiveness. Every action conveys the urgency of a young boy striving to survive and protect his sister. Wong’s performance as Piper is subtle yet captivating, her watchful stillness and occasional cunning making her character feel authentic. While the sibling bond forms the film’s emotional core, it is Hawkins’ performance that dominates, presenting Laura as a monster hiding in plain sight.
A standout is Jonah Wren Phillips as Oliver, a mute foster child whose eerie presence haunts every scene. His blank expression, bruised eye, and near-angelic androgyny make him a quietly terrifying figure. This type of performance, reminiscent of Linda Blair in The Exorcist, secures Phillips as a memorable child actor in horror cinema.
The Philippou brothers utilize the house’s vast spaces—the drained swimming pool and cavernous rooms—as psychological traps, amplifying the children’s disorientation and fear. The rain-soaked environments seep into every frame, making the film feel perpetually wet and oppressive. The visual style of Bring Her Back diverges from their debut, prioritizing viscous, tactile textures over flashy effects. Blood is sticky, drool clings to lips, and bodily fluids are rendered with harrowing realism. The sound design heightens this corporeal horror: bones protest, knives tear through flesh, and teeth shatter like porcelain. These elements echo J-horror’s tactile terror, avoiding the sterile sadism of torture porn.
What sets Bring Her Back apart from contemporary horror is its refusal to reduce evil to metaphor. Laura’s manipulation is not symbolic; it is trauma in real time. The audience experiences the children’s predicament firsthand, deprived of safety or irony, creating a sense of helpless complicity that is both compelling and disturbing.
The film’s narrative is intentionally messy. Occult symbols, chalk circles, and VHS rituals do not always cohere logically, but coherence is secondary to sensation. The Philippous aim to evoke dread—the terror of being a child in the wrong house, unsure whether an adult’s care is protection or predation.
Ultimately, Bring Her Back is powered by Sally Hawkins’ chilling performance, one of the most memorable villain turns in recent horror. Her portrayal of Laura—a figure whose kindness suffocates rather than nurtures—is terrifying because it is recognizably human. The film plays on primal fears: that children are vulnerable even to those entrusted with their safety, and that safety nets can be sinister.
The Philippou brothers may not yet claim the throne of horror cinema, but Bring Her Back establishes them as its most sadistic purveyors of the decade. With this film, they deliver a nightmare that lingers long after the credits roll, locking the audience in a house they would never want to enter.
