By Andrew Buckner

Rating: ****½ out of *****.

Beneath Us All (2023), from director/co-star Harley Wallen and screenwriter Bret Miller, is another tremendous showcase of Wallen’s transcendent knack for relatable, smartly character-oriented, and topically relevant horror pictures. It operates just as successfully as an effective exercise in classic genre situations and atmosphere. Wallen’s latest development is also noteworthy for its ambition. Such a trait is instantly perceptible from the tense, compelling, Scandinavia 912 AD set opening sequence, which is nearly five minutes in length. 

This bit immediately draws attention from its viewers with its rich, beautiful, earthy cinematography by Alex Gasparetto. It erects supplemental inquisitiveness with its gripping and ominous melodies, Viking songs, and in its era-appropriate dialogue. The violent scenario that unravels in this commencing passage sets the engrossing, if occasionally predictable, plot on its course in stalwart fashion. Wallen’s fabrication also ends in a similarly strong, surprising manner. It is one that is, like everything that came beforehand in the venture, commendable for its grounded, organic, quietly menacing, and consistently well-made nature. In this sense, the smoothly paced 91-minute undertaking stands alongside the likes of Andre Ovredal’s recent adaptation of the seventh chapter of Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula (1897), The Last Voyage of the Demeter (2023), as an example of the lingering power of both the prototypical, hair-raising vampire chronicle and of patient, confident, foreboding storytelling in modern cinema.

Advantageously carrying on Wallen’s recurring theme of dysfunctional families, Beneath Us All weaves a versatile tale of metamorphosis. It primarily concerns Julie (in a spellbinding turn from Angelina Danielle Cama), who is on the verge of her eighteenth birthday. She is in a constant state of fear and loathing towards her abusive foster father, Todd Gibbs (in a captivating depiction from Sean Whalen that is equal doses uncomfortable, absorbing, and authentic). While trudging through the woods one day, Julie unearths an ancient beast, Frey (in a sinister, mesmerizing rendering from Yan Birch). Despite Todd’s warnings to not bring outsiders in the house with her, Julie allows Frey to hide within the Gibbs’ property. As Frey begins to mentally manipulate Julie and his nightly feedings transform into rumors of assaults from local critters, an opportunity unfolds for Julie to gain control over Todd in a way the cruel man would never expect. 

This engaging narrative foundation is made ever-sturdier by an exceptional enactment from Maria Olsen as Julia’s foster mother, Janelle Gibbs. Correspondingly, Wallen is a commanding presence as Detective Donovan Booker. Julie’s younger foster siblings, Stephen (Malachi Myles), Erica (Emilia Wallen), and Sarah (Hanna Wallen), are all superbly portrayed. A subplot involving a social worker named Rebecca (Kaiti Wallen) is another illustration of the magnificent performances unveiled in the enterprise. The inclusion of this element also attaches auxiliary depth and dimension to the dramatic aspects of the outing. Additionally, the segments of raw terror, especially in the fog-laden second half of the endeavor, are top-notch. They call to mind the immersive gothic horror of Hammer Film Productions from both the 1960’s and the 1970’s. Namely, Terence Fisher’s brilliant Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966) and Alan Gibson’s outstanding The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973). 

Skillfully guided by Wallen, the project is deftly penned by Miller. The script, though routinely structured, utilizes enthralling, sharply developed lead personas, believable interchanges, and an admirable balance of sensitivity and shock. All of this is heightened immeasurably by the all-around stupendous music from Firoze and Kaizad Patel. Moreover, the editing from Johnny Flynn is seamless. The makeup, cleverly and sparsely used effects, and costume design all help craft a technically muscular backbone to this already Herculean construction.

Ultimately, Beneath Us All is as spectacular as Wallen’s previous features Ash and Bone (2022) and The Devil’s Left Hand (2023). It’s efficient in runtime and haunting despite its familiar touches. The thoughtful yet unnerving work is further proof of why Wallen is such a terrific filmmaker. Low on gore but high on enigmatic trepidation, Wallen’s excursion is a marvelously realized lesson in the tried-and-true theory that what remains understated, especially when spied through an unflinchingly human lens, is often the most dynamic in the realms of visual apprehension. With Beneath Us All, Wallen has once again unleashed one of the best movies of its type this year.