The title of Mattias Johansson Skoglund’s sophomore feature is both ironic and painful. There’s hardly anything homely about the domestic life that this slow burn horror explores. Neither the care home where Monika (Anki Lidén) has been placed nor her former family abode emanate care and comfort. Abuse the and neglect are all-too-common realities. In this very loose adaptation of Mats Strandberg’s eponymous novel, the Swedish director connects these two different kinds of dread. The effect is equally differentiated and disturbing: a reminder that some horrors are simply inescapable.
Following a stroke, Monika’s health is in rapid decline. So her son Joel (Philip Oros), a failed musician and recovering/relapsing alcoholic, places her in the Ekskuggan care facility. This place is small and dismal, yet in the only apparent option in their town. Joel’s childhood best friend Nina (Gizem Erdogan), who happens to work as a nurse, offers a glimmer of hope. The behaviour of patients is erratic and unpredictable. They experience moments of clarity in which they say cruel, terrifying things. Monika resorts to self-harm. It turns out that she is involved in a string of uncanny events in more ways than oner: perhaps she is both the perpetrator and the victim.
Monika is in company of her sadistic and abusive husband Bengt (Peter Jankert), who has been long dead. His demonic presence represents the lasting impact of trauma. This is a film about haunted minds. As they start to fall apart, they unleash their demons. Emotional wounds fester and repressed pain channels into substance abuse, dissociation and anger. Joel has his own brutal memories of his father. These come to life in well-placed jump scares and bizarre hallucinations. Nightmare and reality begin to blur as the past manifests itself in the present.
The decrepit care facility becomes the psychological plot’s main location. Dimly lit corridors and fluorescent lights make it an ideal scenery for crouching terror. The camera prowls the narrow hallways and lurks around dark corners. Flashbacks reveal just enough of Joel’s abusive upbringing in order for viewers to grasp that Monika may have been complicit. Underneath the discomfort lies a surprisingly straightforward social message. Skoglund’s unsettling genre film deconstructs the supposedly ideal Scandinavian social care and idyllic family life. Institutional care and home life are equally bad.
DoP Malin Lindqvist Qvarfordt’s effective camerawork, combined with minimal and natural light, create a sensation of entrapment. Close-ups reveals the frenzied expression and mental instability of the two main characters. The muddy and cold colour palette underscores the somber mood. A dissonant soundtrack emphasises the tension. Anki Lidén’s strong performance and good supporting actors make up for the characters’ lack of development. The buildup feels overlong, and the ending arrives too abruptly. The Home never reaches the same heights as The Rule of Jenny Penn or The Mansion (James Ashcroft), another old-age care horror released this year. Still, an original, slow descent into memory hell.
The Home just premiered at Tiff Romania.
