“We Are What We Are” just may be the artiest backwoods
cannibal movie you’re likely to find. Don’t worry, though, because as much as
director Jim Mickle (“Stake Land”) does to pretty things up in his remake of
the 2010 Mexican horror joint of the same name, there is still more than enough
gore, brutality, and creepiness to sate your bloodthirsty little soul. Moody,
tense, and delicately layered, when you boil it down to the bare essentials,
this is still the story of an isolated, woodsy family eating folk.
The Parker family lives in rural New York State. You know
right away that there is something off about them, but you chalk this up to the
fact that they live the woods, generally keep to themselves, and adhere to a
strict religious regimen that includes fasting and not going to the doctor.
When mother Emma (Kassi DePaiva) has a stroke and dies during a severe storm
that threatens to flood their small town off the map, it leaves the eldest
daughter Iris (Ambyr Childers) to take care of stern, devout father, Frank
(Bill Sage), younger sister Rose (Julia Garner), and their small brother Rory
(Jack Gore).
Now this may be a small town, but for a tiny burg, there
happen to be an awful lot of lone women disappearing. Strange how that happens.
The town mirrors the Parker themselves. On the surface they may seem a little
strange, but they look like harmless, decent folks. And after all, they did
just endure a horrible tragedy, so a little standoffishness is to be expected.
It should be apparent, however, that this appearance masks a deep dysfunction,
like a “Texas Chainsaw” level of dysfunction. Mickle creates a heavy atmosphere
of gloom that immediately plants the seed that sinister doings are afoot. You
don’t have to wait too long to learn the specifics—young Rory stumbles across
the prisoner dear old dad keeps chained up in the dirt basement of the shed
that only he is allowed to enter—but the deep seeded nature is something else
entirely.
Like many excellent horror movies before it, “We Are What We
Are” takes a broad swipe at religion. Not aimed at any specific belief, group,
or culture, the Parkers are set up to illustrate the folly of blind acceptance
and adherence to any single viewpoint or dogma. It’s not a huge leap to extend
this to the political realm if you like, but here the intention is to show the
manipulation of the young and innocent. Though she yearns of something more,
Iris dutifully accepts her new role as caretaker of the family because that is
their way, their tradition, even when it comes with horrific duties and a less
than healthy relationship with Frank.
Rose, on the other hand, is more overtly rebellious. Another
step removed from convention, she sneaks Rory handfuls of cereal when he is
supposed to be fasting, and talks to her sister about what life would be like
if they were normal. The Parkers live like this because it is how they have
always lived, a point illustrated through a series of journal entries that take
you back to the pioneer days. In their present incarnation, given the current
state of the world, upholding the traditions and keeping the family together is
increasingly difficult.
Mickle brings ideas of family and duty into the equation,
raises questions of nature versus nurture, and questions what we’re clinging to
when we hold onto the past. Frank is the physical embodiment of his decaying
way of life. As the world around him erodes, in both a physical and
metaphorical sense, so do his family, his psyche, and his body. In his
children, all of whom deliver fantastic performances, you see a progression.
Iris is devoted, but torn. Rose has a deep connection to her family, but has
seen the allure of a life beyond their simple, remote existence. Rory is young
enough that he still accepts the way things are on faith, but you have to
wonder how much farther he will pull away as he ages.
Try as he might, Frank can’t stop the outside world from
chipping away and invading his own. Neighbor Marge (Kelly McGillis) has good
intentions, only wanting to help in the wake of tragedy, but is a constant
nuisance. Local deputy Anders (Wyatt Russell) and Doc Barrow (the always great
Michael Parks) offer a more overt intrusion and threat.
Beautifully shot, using keen visuals to represent the dense
themes, “We Are What We Are” is full of great acting and rigid tension, and—despite
the fact that you have a general idea of what is coming—packs in a few solid
shocks. If nothing else, Mickle’s film is an illustration that you can tell a
crazy exploitation style story in a meaningful, substantive way.
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