Steve_Ramsey
Joined Apr 2015
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The Surrender is a dark film about loss and grief. It's an exploration of letting go of a loved one, but more importantly, letting go of the complex emotions surrounding our memories of them. When a family member dies, there's a moment when it feels unreal, as if there isn't a clear distinction between life and death. As we stare at a lifeless corpse, it's hard for our brains to reconcile existence in one moment, then non-existence in the next. It feels as though there's a middle ground, like a gray transition period between light and darkness. That was my experience with the loss of my parents. Written and directed by Julia Max, The Surrender is a deeply personal meditation on what death means to those left behind and the layers of memories we keep of them, both real and imagined.
Soon after the film begins, terminally ill Robert (Vaughn Armstrong) dies in his sleep while his wife Barbara (Kate Burton) and daughter Megan (Colby Minifie) are at his bedside. It's clear there are years of complicated family dynamics at play, especially between mother and daughter. Barbara seems to have been on a spiritual quest in recent years, a process that Megan doesn't understand, but grudgingly accepts as Mom's harmless new-age hobby.
That changes when Barbara announces that she has spent what's left of her life's savings to hire a mysterious spiritual guru to perform a ritual to bring her husband back to life. But before beginning, the mom and daughter must destroy all of Robert's personal possessions in a ritualistic bonfire. Everything. Even precious photos and other keepsakes. How much would you sacrifice in order to have a dead loved one back? This is the first of three surrenders.
The movie proceeds to take us through a multi-day, esoteric ritual designed to strip Megan and Barbara of everything, including their relationships to Robert. Key events in Megan's childhood are brought to light as her mom reveals different memories and a more nuanced view of her husband as a father. Trauma can last us a lifetime, but maybe learning more facts can change our perception of a person. We often think of our parents in very binary terms and it's only after their deaths that we begin to see them in a more realistic light. At its heart, The Surrender ponders why we wait until death to get to know our loved ones.
Like the beautifully disturbing A Dark Song (2016), The Surrender grounds its supernatural elements in raw emotional stakes. Both films center on women who are grieving and willing to endure harrowing spiritual rituals in hopes of reconnecting with the dead. And both movies are brilliant examples of the "ritual procedural" subgenre. But where A Dark Song is driven by a mother's singular desperation, The Surrender is more ambiguous and layered-it's not just about longing, but also about reckoning with the truth of who someone was. Julia Max's film leans deeper into the psychological toll of unearthing buried family memories and trauma, using the ritual not only as a spiritual gateway but as an emotional autopsy. It's less about reunion and more about release.
Julia Max's writing and direction (in her feature film debut) are powerful and concise. The candle-lit darkness of a single room in the family's house gradually grows claustrophobic and begins to feel like we are in a tomb. And then it sinks deeper into a darkness of nothingness. Just abandonment and resignation. The Surrender is a sad movie with a chilling ending that has a spark of redemption. It's a reminder to tell people we love them while they are still alive.
The performances are outstanding. Colby Minifie's emotional portrayal of Megan had me in tears near the end. She shows a vulnerability, especially relating to her mom, that feels raw and unrehearsed. The dynamic between mother and daughter is as real as it gets. Kate Burton plays Barbara as a woman who has only recently begun finding her voice and her strength. There's a tragedy to the character, who is a product of a different generation who can only discover herself after her husband is dead.
The Surrender is the type of small horror film I adore. It's clearly made with passion that everyone involved with the movie seemed to share. This is a film for horror fans who like supernatural stories that challenge you to look inward at your own relationships. There are moments of violence and gore, creepy vibes, and a powerful sense of themes that make us uncomfortable. Casual movie-goers may find the pacing slow, especially in the first half, but I don't think the film is intended for widespread appeal: this isn't entry-level horror. As someone who has watched thousands of horror films over the years, this sits in my sweet spot as a movie that sticks with me. No doubt, it will be in my top ten films of 2025.
How much of yourself are you willing to surrender in order to make peace with the past? The Surrender invites us into that liminal space between love and loss, and leaves us haunted by what we find there.
Soon after the film begins, terminally ill Robert (Vaughn Armstrong) dies in his sleep while his wife Barbara (Kate Burton) and daughter Megan (Colby Minifie) are at his bedside. It's clear there are years of complicated family dynamics at play, especially between mother and daughter. Barbara seems to have been on a spiritual quest in recent years, a process that Megan doesn't understand, but grudgingly accepts as Mom's harmless new-age hobby.
That changes when Barbara announces that she has spent what's left of her life's savings to hire a mysterious spiritual guru to perform a ritual to bring her husband back to life. But before beginning, the mom and daughter must destroy all of Robert's personal possessions in a ritualistic bonfire. Everything. Even precious photos and other keepsakes. How much would you sacrifice in order to have a dead loved one back? This is the first of three surrenders.
The movie proceeds to take us through a multi-day, esoteric ritual designed to strip Megan and Barbara of everything, including their relationships to Robert. Key events in Megan's childhood are brought to light as her mom reveals different memories and a more nuanced view of her husband as a father. Trauma can last us a lifetime, but maybe learning more facts can change our perception of a person. We often think of our parents in very binary terms and it's only after their deaths that we begin to see them in a more realistic light. At its heart, The Surrender ponders why we wait until death to get to know our loved ones.
Like the beautifully disturbing A Dark Song (2016), The Surrender grounds its supernatural elements in raw emotional stakes. Both films center on women who are grieving and willing to endure harrowing spiritual rituals in hopes of reconnecting with the dead. And both movies are brilliant examples of the "ritual procedural" subgenre. But where A Dark Song is driven by a mother's singular desperation, The Surrender is more ambiguous and layered-it's not just about longing, but also about reckoning with the truth of who someone was. Julia Max's film leans deeper into the psychological toll of unearthing buried family memories and trauma, using the ritual not only as a spiritual gateway but as an emotional autopsy. It's less about reunion and more about release.
Julia Max's writing and direction (in her feature film debut) are powerful and concise. The candle-lit darkness of a single room in the family's house gradually grows claustrophobic and begins to feel like we are in a tomb. And then it sinks deeper into a darkness of nothingness. Just abandonment and resignation. The Surrender is a sad movie with a chilling ending that has a spark of redemption. It's a reminder to tell people we love them while they are still alive.
The performances are outstanding. Colby Minifie's emotional portrayal of Megan had me in tears near the end. She shows a vulnerability, especially relating to her mom, that feels raw and unrehearsed. The dynamic between mother and daughter is as real as it gets. Kate Burton plays Barbara as a woman who has only recently begun finding her voice and her strength. There's a tragedy to the character, who is a product of a different generation who can only discover herself after her husband is dead.
The Surrender is the type of small horror film I adore. It's clearly made with passion that everyone involved with the movie seemed to share. This is a film for horror fans who like supernatural stories that challenge you to look inward at your own relationships. There are moments of violence and gore, creepy vibes, and a powerful sense of themes that make us uncomfortable. Casual movie-goers may find the pacing slow, especially in the first half, but I don't think the film is intended for widespread appeal: this isn't entry-level horror. As someone who has watched thousands of horror films over the years, this sits in my sweet spot as a movie that sticks with me. No doubt, it will be in my top ten films of 2025.
How much of yourself are you willing to surrender in order to make peace with the past? The Surrender invites us into that liminal space between love and loss, and leaves us haunted by what we find there.
At the beginning of the year, I would have never predicted that I would see two movies that mostly take place inside a car, let alone that I would see them within two weeks of each other. And yet, here we are. At SXSW I watched the premiere of Hallow Road, a harrowing, two-person thriller with some great twists and turns, and today I saw Locked, a somewhat tense two-person thriller with no twists or turns. In fact, for most of the movie, the car is parked.
Locked is the latest film by David Yarovesky, who directed the surprisingly fun and clever Brightburn, back in 2019. Locked, on the other hand, keeps things conventional, never quite leaning into the pulpy potential of its premise. There's a kickass movie in here that's unrealized due to a straightforward story with no surprises or revelations.
Bill Skarsgård plays Eddie, a street-smart, lovable guy who's in debt and forced to resort to petty crime to simply survive. He's a trope movie dad who loves his baby girl, and desperately wants to provide for her. A dad who adores his young daughter is movie shorthand for, "You see, deep down he's a sensitive guy despite his circumstances." Given how generic the character is written, Skarsgård brings his A-game and gives a strong, "what would you do?" solo performance.
In order to make some quick cash, Eddie attempts to break into cars and grab whatever he can. Unfortunately, he picks the wrong car, an expensive, fully custom luxury SUV that locks him inside. The vehicle is equipped with bullet-proof glass, a cell-signal blocker, six video cameras, and most importantly, a phone that allows the captor to communicate with Eddie.
And that captor is the unmistakable voice of Anthony Hopkins who is as terrific (as always) given what he had to work with. He plays William, a bitter and wealthy man who has designed this car as a trap to lure petty thieves into so he can teach them a lesson by torturing them. The car is rigged up with tasers that shock Eddie for any infraction and William can even blast polka music on the sound system when he really means business. Eddie has no food or water, so must comply with William's every demand in order to survive.
It reminded me a little of the setup for the Saw films where we mostly only hear the Jigsaw killer as he places more and more sadistic demands on his victims. In both that series and Locked, the "bad guy" is driven by a moral code, a certain degree of vengeance. In the case of Saw, we end up siding with Jigsaw because his victims are bad people. It's a fun dynamic, causing us to examine our own biases about good and bad. In Locked, William is basically a grouchy old man who is bitter at the state of the world and how New York has become a haven for criminals. Ho-hum.
I desperately wanted there to be some sort of twist, something a little deeper to explain William's need to punish this one petty criminal. But the film plays it straight. Yup. Just a bad guy. No nuance, no intriguing motivation. And Eddie is a good guy (remember, he has a really cute daughter he adores). Plus he's ruggedly handsome lol.
I wonder how long it took WIlliam to design and build this vehicle? It seems like a huge amount of time, money, and effort to just use it to mess with this one guy. I love suspending disbelief, but everything that happens in Locked seems to fall just a little too neatly into place, including what might be a possible escape plan. Oh yeah! I remember, in the opening scene Eddie tells someone he's "good with cars".
The film touches on themes of wealthy privilege and the struggles of common people, but never explores these in much depth, and in the third act we're left with a run-of-the-mill action thriller that strains plausibility. (I guess l knew all along that car would have to move at some point.) Oh, did I mention William is even capable of causing harm to Eddie's sweet baby girl? No doubt about it, now we know he's a bad guy.
Oh, and immediately after the film, I actually Googled if an action Eddie takes at the end would have been possible. (Seems dubious.) Without giving a spoiler, I was a little stunned by a lack of understanding as to why he couldn't have done this earlier in the movie.
As a horror fan, I kept thinking about Hannibal Lecter, the deliciously nuanced villain Hopkins portrayed in Silence of the Lambs. Locked could have been a fantastic psychological thriller if we could have learned more about its villain.
Locked is a competent film that could have been a heart-pounding, claustrophobic psychological thriller if it had been willing to dig deeper into its characters. It's never boring, and it'll likely work fine as a casual streaming pick. But ultimately, its solid performances are weighed down by a script that never dares to surprise.
Locked is the latest film by David Yarovesky, who directed the surprisingly fun and clever Brightburn, back in 2019. Locked, on the other hand, keeps things conventional, never quite leaning into the pulpy potential of its premise. There's a kickass movie in here that's unrealized due to a straightforward story with no surprises or revelations.
Bill Skarsgård plays Eddie, a street-smart, lovable guy who's in debt and forced to resort to petty crime to simply survive. He's a trope movie dad who loves his baby girl, and desperately wants to provide for her. A dad who adores his young daughter is movie shorthand for, "You see, deep down he's a sensitive guy despite his circumstances." Given how generic the character is written, Skarsgård brings his A-game and gives a strong, "what would you do?" solo performance.
In order to make some quick cash, Eddie attempts to break into cars and grab whatever he can. Unfortunately, he picks the wrong car, an expensive, fully custom luxury SUV that locks him inside. The vehicle is equipped with bullet-proof glass, a cell-signal blocker, six video cameras, and most importantly, a phone that allows the captor to communicate with Eddie.
And that captor is the unmistakable voice of Anthony Hopkins who is as terrific (as always) given what he had to work with. He plays William, a bitter and wealthy man who has designed this car as a trap to lure petty thieves into so he can teach them a lesson by torturing them. The car is rigged up with tasers that shock Eddie for any infraction and William can even blast polka music on the sound system when he really means business. Eddie has no food or water, so must comply with William's every demand in order to survive.
It reminded me a little of the setup for the Saw films where we mostly only hear the Jigsaw killer as he places more and more sadistic demands on his victims. In both that series and Locked, the "bad guy" is driven by a moral code, a certain degree of vengeance. In the case of Saw, we end up siding with Jigsaw because his victims are bad people. It's a fun dynamic, causing us to examine our own biases about good and bad. In Locked, William is basically a grouchy old man who is bitter at the state of the world and how New York has become a haven for criminals. Ho-hum.
I desperately wanted there to be some sort of twist, something a little deeper to explain William's need to punish this one petty criminal. But the film plays it straight. Yup. Just a bad guy. No nuance, no intriguing motivation. And Eddie is a good guy (remember, he has a really cute daughter he adores). Plus he's ruggedly handsome lol.
I wonder how long it took WIlliam to design and build this vehicle? It seems like a huge amount of time, money, and effort to just use it to mess with this one guy. I love suspending disbelief, but everything that happens in Locked seems to fall just a little too neatly into place, including what might be a possible escape plan. Oh yeah! I remember, in the opening scene Eddie tells someone he's "good with cars".
The film touches on themes of wealthy privilege and the struggles of common people, but never explores these in much depth, and in the third act we're left with a run-of-the-mill action thriller that strains plausibility. (I guess l knew all along that car would have to move at some point.) Oh, did I mention William is even capable of causing harm to Eddie's sweet baby girl? No doubt about it, now we know he's a bad guy.
Oh, and immediately after the film, I actually Googled if an action Eddie takes at the end would have been possible. (Seems dubious.) Without giving a spoiler, I was a little stunned by a lack of understanding as to why he couldn't have done this earlier in the movie.
As a horror fan, I kept thinking about Hannibal Lecter, the deliciously nuanced villain Hopkins portrayed in Silence of the Lambs. Locked could have been a fantastic psychological thriller if we could have learned more about its villain.
Locked is a competent film that could have been a heart-pounding, claustrophobic psychological thriller if it had been willing to dig deeper into its characters. It's never boring, and it'll likely work fine as a casual streaming pick. But ultimately, its solid performances are weighed down by a script that never dares to surprise.
There comes a moment in every parent's life when we simply can't help our child when they're in distress. A time when we have no solutions and can offer no tangible support. This is the horror of Hallow Road, a harrowing nightmare that spirals into despair. It represents every parent's worst fears, self-doubt, and a gut-wrenching feeling of helplessness.
Directed by Babak Anvari, Hallow Road is a tense, claustrophobic thriller that takes place mostly in the front seat of a car. A married couple, Maddie and Frank (Rosamund Pike and Matthew Rhys) receive a distressing late-night call from their college-aged daughter Alice, who has hit a pedestrian with her car. She's panicking, so the couple gets in their car and races off to meet up with her at the scene of the accident.
From the outset, the hairs were raised on the back of my neck: something felt off. Why aren't they calling 999? Why is their GPS navigation giving them wrong directions? Why is it taking so long to get to their daughter? Is the road hallowed, in a holy sense? Maybe.
The camera never leaves the confines of the car as the couple is on the phone with Alice the entire time. We only hear Alice's voice. Maddie is a paramedic who attempts to take command of the situation by offering professional support, telling Alice exactly what to do. This might be effective in any other crisis, but here, she has conflicting emotions towards her youthful daughter's seemingly poor choices.
Frank, on the other hand, tries to keep his emotions in check while stepping on the accelerator and offering advice contrary to Maddie's no-nonsense approach. An uncomfortable and adversarial family dynamic begins to emerge as the story progresses, touching on a history of conflict and unresolved emotions. The film explores tough themes about the desire to protect one's child while also grappling with disappointment when they make bad decisions. Themes about how a husband and wife aren't always on the same page when raising a child and how that plays out into adulthood. The compelling dialogue in Hallow Road is filled with brutal truths and uncomfortable revelations about all three characters.
And while all this family tension is playing out, the clock is ticking. How much longer before they get to their panic-stricken daughter? The cinematography is beautiful, making it feel like we are genuinely in this car, racing down a desolate country road. Anvari's direction keeps the tension ramping up throughout the entire runtime, a beautifully concise 80 minutes.
Hallow Road has a bit of a Twilight Zone vibe. Certain moments felt slightly out of place, hinting at a deeper mystery. Midway through, the film introduces a new dynamic that shifts the narrative from an internal family conflict to something more external. I found myself asking question after question, trying to figure out what was going on at the scene of the accident. We can only hear the scene unfold, relying on Alice's possibly unreliable account of events. The fact that we never leave the front seat of the car, pulls us into the same stressful urgency that Maddie and Frank feel. A feeling of complete helplessness.
The movie is filled with as many twists and turns as the dark road we are racing down. It's the kind of film that begs you to sit up and pay attention. In fact, before the premiere at SxSW, the director asked us to please stick around for the credits, that there was a "bit of an Easter egg". That's putting it mildly. The audience literally gasped at this one tiny moment that recontextualized everything we had seen. The way the twist is presented is unlike anything I've seen before-subtle, yet monumental. After the screening, Babak Anvari asked if anyone saw it coming, and very few did. I certainly didn't, and it had me rethinking everything I saw.
This all adds up to a challenging, but wildly engaging and entertaining experience. In the end, there are no easy answers. Hallow Road is filled with ambiguity, which may be a deal-breaker for some viewers. After the movie, I turned to my friend and we both felt we needed time to digest what we witnessed. Over dinner a couple of days later, we discussed the movie and our theories about what happened, especially regarding the ending. Interestingly, we each had wildly different takes. She offered an explanation I hadn't even considered and vice-versa. Both are completely valid interpretations. You may come up with something even more creative, and that's the beauty of a proper ambiguous ending.
Hallow Road was one of the best films to premiere at SxSW, and I'm looking forward to seeing it again when it gets released. The performances by Pike and Rhys are outstanding, carrying long stretches of complicated, overlapping dialogue that feels natural and heartfelt. If you're a fan of psychological thrillers and twists you will love it. And if you're a parent, you will feel this at a deeper level. Sometimes, when our kids are in crisis, we simply can't help. Much like this movie, we don't always have answers.
Directed by Babak Anvari, Hallow Road is a tense, claustrophobic thriller that takes place mostly in the front seat of a car. A married couple, Maddie and Frank (Rosamund Pike and Matthew Rhys) receive a distressing late-night call from their college-aged daughter Alice, who has hit a pedestrian with her car. She's panicking, so the couple gets in their car and races off to meet up with her at the scene of the accident.
From the outset, the hairs were raised on the back of my neck: something felt off. Why aren't they calling 999? Why is their GPS navigation giving them wrong directions? Why is it taking so long to get to their daughter? Is the road hallowed, in a holy sense? Maybe.
The camera never leaves the confines of the car as the couple is on the phone with Alice the entire time. We only hear Alice's voice. Maddie is a paramedic who attempts to take command of the situation by offering professional support, telling Alice exactly what to do. This might be effective in any other crisis, but here, she has conflicting emotions towards her youthful daughter's seemingly poor choices.
Frank, on the other hand, tries to keep his emotions in check while stepping on the accelerator and offering advice contrary to Maddie's no-nonsense approach. An uncomfortable and adversarial family dynamic begins to emerge as the story progresses, touching on a history of conflict and unresolved emotions. The film explores tough themes about the desire to protect one's child while also grappling with disappointment when they make bad decisions. Themes about how a husband and wife aren't always on the same page when raising a child and how that plays out into adulthood. The compelling dialogue in Hallow Road is filled with brutal truths and uncomfortable revelations about all three characters.
And while all this family tension is playing out, the clock is ticking. How much longer before they get to their panic-stricken daughter? The cinematography is beautiful, making it feel like we are genuinely in this car, racing down a desolate country road. Anvari's direction keeps the tension ramping up throughout the entire runtime, a beautifully concise 80 minutes.
Hallow Road has a bit of a Twilight Zone vibe. Certain moments felt slightly out of place, hinting at a deeper mystery. Midway through, the film introduces a new dynamic that shifts the narrative from an internal family conflict to something more external. I found myself asking question after question, trying to figure out what was going on at the scene of the accident. We can only hear the scene unfold, relying on Alice's possibly unreliable account of events. The fact that we never leave the front seat of the car, pulls us into the same stressful urgency that Maddie and Frank feel. A feeling of complete helplessness.
The movie is filled with as many twists and turns as the dark road we are racing down. It's the kind of film that begs you to sit up and pay attention. In fact, before the premiere at SxSW, the director asked us to please stick around for the credits, that there was a "bit of an Easter egg". That's putting it mildly. The audience literally gasped at this one tiny moment that recontextualized everything we had seen. The way the twist is presented is unlike anything I've seen before-subtle, yet monumental. After the screening, Babak Anvari asked if anyone saw it coming, and very few did. I certainly didn't, and it had me rethinking everything I saw.
This all adds up to a challenging, but wildly engaging and entertaining experience. In the end, there are no easy answers. Hallow Road is filled with ambiguity, which may be a deal-breaker for some viewers. After the movie, I turned to my friend and we both felt we needed time to digest what we witnessed. Over dinner a couple of days later, we discussed the movie and our theories about what happened, especially regarding the ending. Interestingly, we each had wildly different takes. She offered an explanation I hadn't even considered and vice-versa. Both are completely valid interpretations. You may come up with something even more creative, and that's the beauty of a proper ambiguous ending.
Hallow Road was one of the best films to premiere at SxSW, and I'm looking forward to seeing it again when it gets released. The performances by Pike and Rhys are outstanding, carrying long stretches of complicated, overlapping dialogue that feels natural and heartfelt. If you're a fan of psychological thrillers and twists you will love it. And if you're a parent, you will feel this at a deeper level. Sometimes, when our kids are in crisis, we simply can't help. Much like this movie, we don't always have answers.