Let Her Out (2016)
Gareth Jones
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Starring Alanna LeVierge, Nina Kiri, Adam Christie
Directed by Cody Calahan
Screened at FrightFest 2016
Bicycle courier Helen (LeVierge) finds her life turned upside down following a chance collision with a car in pseudo possession flick Let Her Out. Given that the accident occurs outside of the motel in which Helen’s pregnant mother took her own life (by attempting to cut the infant Helen from her womb), it’s safe to say that the entire situation has the young woman placed distinctly on edge.
Soon after recovering from the accident, Helen finds herself plagued by traumatic visions, hallucinations, disembodied voices and periods of blackout and lost time. Heading back to the hospital, it turns out that Helen has the remnants of an embryonic twin absorbed in her brain… and she comes to believe that the twin may be seizing this opportunity to take over her body for good.
Cody Calahan’s film starts on quite the shocking note, with Helen’s prostitute mother finding herself visited after hours by a sneering, silent client who won’t take “we’re closed” for an answer. Glimpses of the ensuing violent sex and subsequent pregnant suicide hint of supernatural elements at play, making for quite the compelling setup.
Once we’re 20-something years into the future, Helen can be found living with her friend Holly – a wannabe actress – and spending her time cycling around town, delivering packages and trying to avoid the come-ons of her most routine client, who has also painted a startlingly dark portrait of her.
As things slowly go downhill for poor Helen, director Calahan sets up a number of very effective frights and tense set-pieces. Visual rhythm is crucial in these moments, and Calahan manages to nail it time and time again, turning even the most generic and expected “under the bed” jump scares into truly toe-curling encounters.
But the goodness can’t last forever, and Helen’s descent soon begins to feel rather laboured – the cycle of being somewhere, blacking out and waking up somewhere else (or with the portrait she so vehemently tries to get rid of being right back in her room) begins to repeat beyond reason, leaving Let Her Out’s second act effectively spinning its wheels in the mud. This isn’t helped by the disappointingly vacuous nature of the supporting characters beyond Holly.
Thankfully, the situation ramps up… but so too do the camp and incredulous character actions. In the early stages of her diagnosis, Helen raises a stethoscope to her own head and asks, sheepishly, “Hello?” (you’ll have to see the film to hear if she gets a response); meanwhile, in the later stages her now-in-fear-of-her-life roommate sees fit to keep coming back in between attacks as though she has a genuine death wish.
And speaking of death wishes, Helen must have one too… considering she’d rather attempt to tie herself to a bed than seek the immediate help of a medical professional. The film tries to skirt around this but fails miserably with lacklustre excuses.
Despite the off-kilter moments, all of the lead players are earnest. LeVierge’s fear and gradual breakdown are believable, as is Kiri’s sense of concern for her friend. Adam Christie does what he can with the lecherous Ed, but the script leaves him the worst off through little fault of his own.
There are a few surprises up the film’s sleeve, including a superbly realised final-reel shock that unexpectedly shoves Let Her Out into territory similar to that of a certain cult classic directed by Philippe Mora, but this “kitchen sink” approach in the end doesn’t quite raise it above its disappointingly meandering, unfocused – and occasionally unintentionally humorous – nature.
It looks excellent – there are plenty of coloured gels and neon atmosphere in play here – and ultimately delivers an interesting premise, some really great scares and enough thoroughly grotesque third-act happenings to make it a more than worthwhile visit for horror fans. Just be aware that when Let Her Out tries to be more than mere pulp schlock, it trips over itself – making for a more frustratingly uneven experience than necessary.
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Film
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