Tribeca Review: Emelie is a Mean Little Movie

 

Though naturalistic in its style, Emelie can’t help but seem supernatural—a little like folklore. Maybe that’s part of accepting how someone designed to be a caregiver can be so insidious in intent, but it’s also that Sarah Bolger’s devious turn as the evil babysitter feels like a character out of a fairy tale or urban legend. Mysterious in her dark goals, enchanting to terrible end, using animals in horrifying manner, Emelie is like a witch who invades authentic suburban existence, come to do her worst on vulnerable children. 

Emelie does her worst from the very beginning. The film opens with a patient, watchful tableau as citizens of the suburbs go about their business and a young girl named Anna talks away on her phone. A car stops, a sweet voice emanates and within seconds, Anna is surreptitiously chloroformed and abducted. The surrounding residents are none the wiser as the camera makes its first turn, following the car and then diverting when a young boy on his bicycle whisks by. It’s a classical expression of the horrors lurking beneath the nose of everyday existence, a serene scene whose frame doesn’t shake or transform upon the attack. It’s almost mundane and all the more jolting.

Emelie is taking Anna’s place for the night. She’s a deranged soul assuming the form of a regular old teen babysitter so as to enter the home of Dan and Joyce, and assert control over their children, Jacob, Anna and Christopher. The children are authentic and sweet in their actions, spontaneous or angsty (especially Jacob, on the cusp of teenage). The camera lingers to capture their bursting, silly thoughts. They are delightfully ordinary. Emelie is frightfully extraordinary, and so much so that her archetypal teen girl wardrobe plays like a costume, the only aspect of which genuine to her is a purse; a sort of bag of tricks. It only once leaves her person, and proceeds to be a detriment when it does.

As in the opening scene, director Michael Thelin follows Emelie’s actions throughout the night in blatant manner. Shots hold, or follow extensively, winding throughout the home. It’s pure, old-fashioned suspense, as we see Emelie’s little actions and transgressions for what they are. The same goes for when the oldest, Jacob, begins to catch on. There’s nothing to cheaply reveal throughout, so the true dread and tension comes from understanding Emelie’s purpose and how it’ll eventually clash with the children.

Much of the anxious delight in Emelie comes from the black comedy early on; the ways she wins or loses their affections, or pits them against one another. With Jacob, she leans toward both his budding sexuality and older sibling loneliness. This culminates in a sharply constructed, unsettling sequence between a python and a hamster— Jacob’s and Anna’s pets, respectively. Not only does this prominently feature the most stunning bit of hamster acting you’re likely to ever see, but upon the tiny animal’s devouring, Thelin cuts away from the actual attack. He instead gives a lone, brief glimpse of the snake slithered and tightly wrapped around it, an in-movie visual symbol of Emelie’s hold.

What is revealed is some of the babysitter’s backstory, which unfolds in flashback just fleeting, blurred and starkly colored enough that she still seems a mystery from another, mythical place. She narrates her own history, accompanied by a crudely drawn fairy tale, and has an unnamed man out to do her bidding and watch over the children’s parents on their night out. She refers to him as a skinny hyena in her little tale. Coupled with the snake sequence, it’s like Emelie has familiars. That’s not to mention when she twists the cool babysitter attitude on Jacob, Grimmly making him eat every single cookie in a package

When the more overt violent conflicts—like an unexpected visit or hiding in the house—rise, Thelin remains restrained. A physical confrontation inside of a car is framed static, but is no less aggressive and brutal. Even when Jacob begins to enact a plan and the film recalls a parentless, 80s kids-in-peril film, only a faint hint of synth is heard. Thelin clearly doesn’t want to go overboard with style or homage. He and cinematographer Luca Del Puppo keep the world grounded so that Emelie herself may be the heightened, evil figure. Since the film never goes totally over-the-top, there are moments here that feel like Inside-lite. It’s still, however, an entirely mean little movie.

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