Bring Her Back: The Horror of Holding On
By Ana McGrath
The Philippou twins’ latest project, Bring Her Back (2025), portrays a mother’s grief coming full circle in a harrowing slow burn. Danny and Michael Philippou, in their second partnership with A24, lean into body horror and provocation meant to disturb and shock – and they are largely successful in this endeavour. After co-writing the breakout horror Talk To Me (2022) with collaborator Bill Hinzman, the brothers channel the same gift for unnerving, immersive storytelling into the supernatural horror of Bring Her Back. What sets the film apart in the crowded grief-horror subgenre is its sincerity: grief here is not a gimmick, but the raw substance of both narrative and atmosphere.
The film introduces a pair of step-siblings, Andy (Billy Barratt) and Piper (Sora Wong). Andy is protective of his younger sister, who is partially sighted – a protectiveness that endears the audience to the duo and remains a defining trait throughout the narrative. Tragedy soon shatters their home life when they discover their father’s lifeless body, leading to their placement in foster care. Their new guardian, Laura (Sally Hawkins), showers Piper with affection while treating Andy as an afterthought, a painful imbalance that only intensifies as Laura’s true motives begin to surface.
Laura’s obsession stems from the death of her own daughter, Cathy (Mischa Heywood), who drowned in the family pool years previously. Fixated on Piper as a substitute, Laura’s grief mutates into something monstrous yet disturbingly human. She uses her background as a child psychologist to manipulate and exploit – however, her facade of kindness falters most visibly when a social worker visits to check on Andy’s concerns. In this moment, Hawkins delivers a devastating performance: the mask slips, and Laura is revealed not simply as an antagonist, but as a woman hollowed by despair, clinging to the hope she can undo the past.
Integral to this sense of unease is the film’s stripped-back sound design. Silence is employed as a weapon, creating an authentic quiet that mirrors the awkward, tense atmosphere of children adjusting to a new house and an unfamiliar guardian. Everyday noises are amplified, pulling the audience into the domestic claustrophobia of Laura’s home. When music does crash in, it is loud and suffocating, masking Laura’s darker actions, particularly regarding Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips). The contrast between the stillness of ordinary life and the overwhelming blasts of sound makes the film’s most harrowing sequences even more unnerving.
Jonah Wren Phillips as Oliver is perhaps the most engrossing element of the film. His performance is remarkable, especially given his young age. He carries an intensity and vulnerability that anchor some of Bring Her Back’s most disturbing sequences. Much of the body horror is filtered through his character, with both the costuming and physical performance leaving a lasting impression. The Philippou brothers are not afraid of going too far – Oliver becomes a canvas for some of the film’s most grotesque imagery, but Phillips ensures he never feels like a prop for shock value. Instead, his portrayal balances horror with pathos, making him a figure that the audience fears for as much as they fear watching him.
The tension builds slowly, with a methodical approach absent from Talk To Me. Visually, the pool that claimed Cathy’s life serves as a slow-burning metaphor: as it gradually fills with rainwater, the audience’s sense of dread grows. The film scatters smaller images of deterioration throughout – Laura’s gradually chipping purple nail polish, for instance, quietly mirroring decay alongside her deteriorating mental state. These understated details, easy to overlook and likely maddening for continuity within production, make the film’s descent into horror feel more lived-in and inevitable. Though grief as a horror trope is saturated, the Philippou twins reinvigorate it with chilling precision, balancing grotesque provocation with genuine emotional weight.
The film’s personal resonance for the directors deepens its impact. Initially inspired by the loss of a cousin’s child, the production was later shaped by the death of a close friend, which prompted the brothers to revise the ending as the film was originally meant to close with a more sombre tone. Instead of pure horror, the finale carries an aching tenderness that renders it all the more devastating. While perhaps the background of the characters and the ritualistic aspects of the film could have been explored more, the performances, cinematography and overall atmosphere make up for this. The closing sequence, both horrifying and heartbreakingly beautiful, feels like a perfect depiction of grief and the cycle that comes with it – and the dedication of the film to their friend underscores how intimately personal Bring Her Back truly is.
