Overview
Sit in a chair. Embrace the otherworldly. Whether you're ready for it or not — physically and emotionally alike — bear witness to the dead being summoned. Speak to those who are no longer in the land of the living. Perhaps, while you're chatting, get caught in a dialogue with something nefarious as well. Talk to Me used this setup to audience-wowing and award-winning effect. Now comes Baghead, which stems from a short film that pre-dates 2023's big Australian-made horror hit, and was shot before Michael and Danny Philippou's A24-distributed flick played cinemas, but still brings it to mind instantly. Audiences can be haunted by what they've seen before, especially in a busy, ever-growing genre where almost everything is haunted anyway and few pictures feel genuinely new. Here, there's no shaking how Talk to Me gnaws at Baghead.
First-time feature filmmaker Alberto Corredor adapts his own applauded short, which picked up gongs at film festivals around the globe. Both of his movies — abridged and full-length — possess the same moniker as a mumblecore effort starring Greta Gerwig before she was directing Lady Bird, Little Women and Barbie. That's where the similarities between 2008's Baghead and 2024's end, but the new Baghead doesn't stop conjuring up thoughts of other flicks. The director and screenwriters Christina Pamies (another debutant) and Bryce McGuire (Night Swim) make grief their theme, and with commitment; the pain of loss colours the movie as much as its shadowy imagery. But, despite boasting two dedicated performances, Corredor's Baghead is routine again and again.
At The Queen's Head in Berlin, Owen Lark (Peter Mullan, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power) oversees a ramshackle four-centuries-old pub where customers aren't there for the drinks. The basement is the big drawcard for those in the know, with the being that resides in it, in a hole in a brick wall, luring punters in the door. Everyone who arrives with cash and a plea for help is in mourning. When Neil (Jeremy Irvine, Benediction) makes an entrance, he knows exactly what he wants. Baghead begins not with Owen letting his latest patron meet the entity that shares the movie's title, though, but with him endeavouring to vanquish it. If he was successful, there'd be no film from there. Because he isn't, his estranged daughter Iris (Freya Allan, The Witcher) is summoned to the German city by a solicitor (Ned Dennehy, The Peripheral), becoming the watering hole's next owner.
It's thanks to Neil that Iris discovers Baghead's namesake. In addition to being determined to talk to his deceased wife, he's persistent. And yes, the witchy being does sport a sack, which is removed when it is spends 120 seconds transforming into another soul. Also, the $2000 that Neil is offering is more than a little helpful for the twentysomething who grew up in the foster system after her mother's (Saffron Burrows, White Widow) death, just had her landlord change the locks on her and only can only lean on her best friend Katie (Ruby Barker, Bridgerton). Potential financial benefits, plus a roof over her head, are why she agrees to sign up for taking over the bar to start with. No amount of money could compensate for becoming saddled with a necromancer that doesn't want to be holed up underground and has a bag of tricks to mess with anyone willing to use its eerie skills, however. A VHS tape from Iris' dad detailing instructions can't stop Baghead, either.
As Scream satirised three decades back in the slasher realm but horror loves in general, there are rules. There's also consequences for not abiding by them. Exceed the time limit with Baghead and the malevolent creature could spirit up anyone. Going into the cavern beneath the tavern is also forbidden — and so is Iris trying to snatch time with her own lost loved ones now that she's the entity's guardian. With the basics laid out, and viewers knowing that all of the above will happen, the predictable plot's expected beats become a matter of if rather than when. There's no subtlety to the storytelling, nor to the tension-courting score or gloomy visuals. Luckily, Baghead does have both Allan and Mullan, even if the latter isn't around for long (but longer than getting bumped off in the introduction would mean if this wasn't a flick about conversing with the fallen).
In her first lead film role, as well as just her ninth screen credit — The Third Day and Gunpowder Milkshake are among the others; Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, the fourth flick in the current Planet of the Apes franchise, will become the tenth within months — Allan takes convincingly to being a horror heroine. Iris is also a horror-movie character who has clearly never seen a horror movie in her life given her choices, but emotion anchors Allan's performance. The star best-known as Crown Princess Cirilla of Cintra to-date tries to help the film overcome its many cliches; that it can't is never on her shoulders. Mullan, one of Scotland's great acting talents since the 90s, is also crucial, particularly for getting audiences paying attention at the outset. Baghead doesn't match his intensity, but it's better for having him brooding within its Cale Finot (Leopard Skin)-lensed frames.
If viewers only had two minutes to choose a recent back-from-the-dead feature to watch, Baghead isn't the pick. That said, although it hardly dives deep or does much with it, it understands grief. That the picture's protagonist is another of Baghead's characters with unresolved emotions tied to losing someone might sound too neat, yet thankfully it isn't. Setting up a sequel proves clunky. Attempting to add a feminist spin plays too conveniently. Facing loss: that resonates. Corredor, Pamies and McGuire know how pervasive that mourning is, and how universal that grappling with mortality is, too. In fact, if Iris didn't have her own brush with loss, as everyone has, that'd stand out. If only Baghead's creative forces knew how to build a film that wasn't so by the numbers around its premise — and for 94 minutes.
