Halloween – or Samhain, as it is spoken in the small-town Ireland of Kate Dolan’s stellar debut – is a time of change; a marker of the shift from summer to winter, the light to the dark. It’s also when, according to local folklore, the veil between our world, and the Otherworld, the realm of deities – and the dead – is at its thinnest. When, as horror dictates, we are most at threat, not just from sinister spiritual forces, but ourselves too. And it’s in this multi-layered approach to genre; the deeply personal overlaid with the fantastical, that Dolan’s first feature stands out as a truly powerful piece of horror storytelling.
Set on the greying streets of a suburban housing estate, on the outermost edges of Dublin (where the industrial meets the rural), You Are Not My Mother follows struggling teen Char (Hazel Doupe) in the week leading up to Samhain, as her mother (Carolyn Bracken) vanishes from the family home, only to return suddenly out of nowhere, behaving rather bizarrely. What first comes across as a purely psychological problem starts to unwind into the unexplainable, and Char is forced to face up to her family’s hidden history, unearthing hideous secrets of the occult and other things her teenage mind isn’t yet ready to reckon with.
Like all the very best horror in this space, subtext is queen, and Char’s story – a coming-of-age wrapped in a family drama, sprinkled with the supernatural – runs incredibly deep. And with Char’s grandmother overseeing all as the matriarch of the piece too, Dolan not only marries the mental with the mystical here, but very much crafts a multi-generational story of women facing up to their legacies, similar in vein to Natalie Erika James’s 2020 Aussie chiller Relic.
But where YANMM diverts for the better, is in keeping its focus to the youngest of the family. The way Dolan folds hurried whispers of folklore in among Char’s struggles with womanhood, and the build up to Halloween as an almost countdown-to-annihilation/emancipation, echoes shades of Donnie Darko, with a realist twist. And much like Gyllenhaal back in 2001, Doupe is an outstandingly volatile lead, a rare young performer who masters the wobbly, stoney-faced unease of adolescence, whilst still giving the film the emotional backbone it needs. YANMM can be a hard watch, and just as much of that comes from Doupe’s vulnerability as it does Dolan’s scares.
There might be sharp flashes of nightmare fuel here and there (shot in a terrifying haze by cinematographer Narayan Van Maele, and marked boldly by Die Hexen’s beautifully uneasy score), but what really gets under your skin are those drawn-out moments. Like Bracken, mid-dance sequence, contorting herself into more animal than woman, a set piece that’s dominated the film’s marketing but has to be seen to be believed in its uncut form; a perfectly hair-raising piece of performance that Dolan and her team deliver brilliantly.