Glasgow Frightfest - Film Review

A beleaguered probation officer is swamped by the dark arts when she becomes saddled with the reintegration of a legendary murderess.

Cathy Madden is frayed at the emotional edges by the draining nature of her job and fractured personal life. Her work in the field of rehabilitation is a professional arena where the community views her with thinly veiled contempt. Subject to physical attacks and sexual harassment in the chaotic orbit of her vulnerable clients the use of pepper spray for self-defence has become normalised.

Exhausted and disillusioned Cathy struggles to maintain a stable connection with her Son from a broken marriage. He needs routine and reliability to manage his struggle with cystic fibrosis and has recently begun calling her ex-husband’s new partner mum.

With her mental health already at a crossroads, Cathy is given the harrowing responsibility of supervising the release of ‘Bloody’ Mary Laidlaw. A woman whose crimes were so infamous they have become woven into the patchwork of local horror folklore.

Mandrake marks the feature debut of Lynne Davison, the latest in a long and welcome line of talented female directors to embrace the horror genre. Influenced by diverse pearls such as The Blair Witch Project, Midsommar, True Detective, The Thing, and The VVitch, Davison sets a high bar of cultural stimulus and sails over it.

An intense mud sling of kitchen-sink dramatics, it taps into the current zeitgeist for folk horror to envoke a brackish sense of rural menace and mob mentality. Remarkably effective in its minimalistic and pragmatic storytelling it is the kind of movie that evolves in your mind’s eye as much as on screen.

Determined to maintain artistic integrity in the face of budgetary constraints the filmmakers have created a smothering crucible of terrifying everydayness in which its social realism festers. Superb cinematography and sound design craft a world in which we can almost feel the prick of the thickets and smell the petrichor of churned earth sodden with elemental evil.

Ari Aster’s Hereditary was declared mandatory viewing for the entire crew to illustrate the damaged vibe the director was looking to channel. The result is comparable in of off-kilter brutality, yet Mandrake keeps its folky firepower more focused by jettisoning Aster’s trademark predilection for knowing black humour.

The acting from the pivotal cast is outrageously good. Committed and refreshingly chaste the performances simmer with potent subtlety before boiling over into disturbing hysteria.

Deirdre Mullins plays Cathy with a neurotic stoicism that emphasises the character’s dignified core rather than her victim status. It’s a finely tuned performance of pathos and power that garners our sympathy as we observe Cathy drift into the clammy clutches of necromancy.

Derbhle Crotty brings a dark magnetism to the difficult role of Mary that gives the narrative the required jeopardy. She conveys the malevolent confidence and easy honesty of a woman protected by sorcery with quiet relish.

The early interactions between the pair are deliciously uncomfortable in both Cathy’s frosty aloofness and Mary’s defiant weirdness. Both actresses exploit clear windows of improvisation to embellish the trenchant rythm of rawness that gives Mandrake its organic horsepower. However, the moment I was presented with a semi-rotting leg to attach an electronic tag is also the exact moment I would be booking a seat on the first fuck off train to no thanks town.

Casting director Georgia Simpson, whose credits include TV drama behemoth Line of Duty, deserves huge kudos for her contributions to the overall chemistry of Mandrake. Not least for procuring the services of rising star Jude Hill from Kenneth Branagh’s multi Oscar-nominated Belfast as Cathy’s son Luke. Not many films of such modest means can boast a Critics Choice best young actor winner among its players.

Another character that deserves a mention is the grotesque manifestation of the mandrake plant’s offspring that rocks up to boost the metaphysical madness. Galvanised in part by the not shy of a pie Cenobite Butterball from Hellraiser, it looks not unlike the product of Groot impregnating one of his own turds.

Quirky and queasy in the extreme yet grounded in execution the rustic slow burn of Mandrake will not be for everyone. However, its technical accomplishments and atmospheric texture are undeniable. As a directorial calling card, it is definitely up there with The Babadook and Relic as a polished incision into the human condition.

Lynne Davison is definitely a director to keep an eye on. With a secret 90’s horror remake and an apocalypse Sci-Fi flick in the works, Mandrake represents the opening gambit of an astonishingly confident new voice on the genre movie scene.