Mama
Dir. Andrés Muschietti
Imagine, if you will, that Hansel and Gretel were too little girls who were saved by the wicked witch before their father – distraught after losing his fortune in the 2008 recession – could kill them in a raving fit of pique. Surviving for five years in the witch’s house deep in the dark woods, they are eventually discovered by their uncle and his girlfriend, who bring them back to civilisation and attempt to lovingly reintegrate into society. Imagine then, that the witch, who had reared them as her own and loved them dearly, followed them into suburbia to claim them back. This is the central premise of Andrés Muschietti’s darkly beautiful fairy tale horror, Mama.
The figure of the mother has always held a significant place in fairy tales. Fiercely protective and loving, or wicked and cruel, she can be a guiding force of goodness, or a figure of evil intent on harming her young. The central antagonist of Mama - the feature-length expansion of a three-minute short – is a deeply maternal spectral entity, simultaneously terrifying, yet nurturing and tender with the little girls she rescues from their homicidal father. While it is sometimes guilty of regurgitating a plethora of horror clichés, Mama’s heart-rending emotional core, strong cast, fairy tale underpinnings and spooky atmosphere ensure it is elevated above and beyond its peers.
The guiding hand of Guillermo del Toro is obvious, and certain themes and motifs that populate his own oeuvre are present here, too. Mama echoes the likes of The Devil’s Backbone, Pan’s Labyrinth and Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, with its young protagonists navigating through an uncertain world, encountering otherworldly, supernatural forces which seek to influence them. A good ghost story should have tragedy, sadness and grief at its core and with its exploration of ideas surrounding instinctual and unconditional love, Mama slowly unveils itself as a moving study of loss. That said, it still manages to chill the blood with its haunting imagery and insistent jump-scares.
Ambiguity is discarded early on, as Muschietti reveals the presence of the spectral entity, though he carefully relegates her to the shadows. To begin with anyway… Long, slow, lingering shots of darkened hallways, brief glimpses of the hunched and scurrying children, and just-out-of-focus glances of a dark, hovering form establish the moody suspense before the maternal monster is revealed in full. Her spindly look - all flowing hair, elongated fingers and disjointed limbs - created by a mainly subtle amalgamation of practical effects and CGI – evokes memories of various Japanese horror titles; as do some of the alarming dream sequences. The sounds 'Mama' and the girls make when conversing are also incredibly creepy and add to the already eerie atmosphere.
As the young couple who find themselves responsible for the girls, Jessica Chastain and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau generate sympathy from the get-go; as Annabel and Lucas, they are likeable, relatable and their performances help ground and flesh out their characters. The two girls are pitiful little creatures, true innocents who have been thrust into a nightmarish situation by an unhinged parental figure. Ably matching their adult co-stars, Megan Charpentier and Isabelle Nélisse deliver complex performances, perfectly capturing the fear they experience in their new surroundings, their tentative acceptance of Annabel as a maternal figure, and their unwavering loyalty to ‘Mama.’ As the girls slowly re-emerge into themselves, Annabel eventually lets her guard drop and trust and friendship begins to blossom: the scene where she warms the hands of the youngest girl is incredibly moving, and manages to be so without a shred of schmaltz. The majority of the film concerns her tender-footed investigation into the mystery surrounding the girls’ survival in the woods, and what she gradually pieces together is a surprisingly touching and tragic back-story. Meanwhile the girls continue to sing lullabies to something lurking in their wardrobe…
Just when you think you’ve figured out how events will conclude, the ending, when it comes, proves to be a hauntingly powerful one; the kind that lingers long in the mind after the lights have gone up in the theatre and you’re rudely plunged back into reality, reeling and blinking into the harsh light of the foyer. As harsh as those lights are though, you might still find that Mama continues to clutch at the hairs on the back of your neck; and at your heartstrings.
