IT FOLLOWS: STDos and STDon'ts

Director: David Robert Mitchell
Writer: David Robert Mitchell
Cast: Maika Monroe, Keir Gilchrist, Olivia Luccardi, Lili Sepe, Jake Weary, Daniel Zovatto
Runtime: 100 mins.
2015

The first and only thing I knew about It Follows before walking into the theater was that it is an allegory for STDs. That's already interesting, but what breaks the movie out of "interesting" and into "fascinating" is that it's so much more than that. Just when you think the film is sinking into its subtext, it's abandoned for pure horror movie thrills. Not to worry though, it always returns to its themes in more complex and circumspect ways than you could reasonably expect from a slashy horror film starring beautiful, sexually active young people. It Follows doesn't fall into the oldest of horror cliches: sex is bad, if you have sex you get killed. Instead it makes that trope the premise, thereby setting it on a pedestal for us to examine its subtleties.

It Follows is a horror movie with a lot on its mind that never forgets to be a horror movie.


One of the stalwart features of the film is its juicy premise. In the same way that zombie fiction is such an inspiring imaginative template that it has provoked endless conversations about what you and your friends would do in such an apocalypse, It Follows provides a comparable internal logic that is just begging you to solve its snaggles in your own individualized way. I've had several lengthy conversations about it with folks who haven't even seen the film; I can't remember people latching so readily onto a plot summary as they do with It Follows.

Instead of talking about talking about it, why don't I just talk about it so you can join in the fun?

Here are the rules. It is passed along by having sex. Don't ask what "it" is, because it is ill-defined. Call it a curse, or a demon, or a force of evil. Or a disease. Whatever it is, it takes the physical form of a human, perhaps a trusted friend, perhaps a complete stranger. Only the bearer of "it" can see this being, and this being is always following you, slowly, steadily, in as straight a line as physically possible. If you let it catch up to you, let it touch you... that's it for you. Everyone who has had the curse and has passed it along can also see the being. The being interacts with the physical world normally--it cannot get through strong locked doors, but it could break a window, just like a normal human being. It is unflappable. It does not communicate. It merely walks, constantly, eternally, towards you: until you pass it along by having sex with someone else. And if that person gets killed by the thing? The curse reverts back to you. And if you get killed, it reverts to the person who gave it to you, etc. etc. forever and ever amen.

The beautiful thing about this premise (and the film it inhabits) is that it is jerry-rigged to bypass cliches. By that I mean the movie delivers every single piece of exposition in a compelling and natural way. The mythology is such that it benefits the cursed person to communicate with the person they pass the curse along to. Otherwise that person will just get killed and the curse will revert. This makes exposition necessary, crucial, and immediate--the holy grail of narrative storytelling. Like everything else in the film, it reflects back upon its central metaphor: You're going to have to communicate about that STD you passed along, but if you do it up front your partner might not want to get it on with you, so maybe you just want to wait until after... This is the kind of screwed up attitude that It Follows places under a microscope. The ethical conundrums on display are all the more potent because they are swirling around characters who you actually care about, and whose fate you're invested in. This is the stuff film was made for.

Another gift we receive thanks to strong writing and a kick-ass premise is characters who don't fall into that other age-old horror trope of putting themselves in situations no human in their right mind would consider. Every moment of conflict in this film feels real, plausible, and generative. When a character puts themselves in danger because they don't fully believe in It, we don't roll our eyes--we recognize that they have none of the reasons to be wary that we have. When a character traps themselves in an inescapable environment, it feels like a last resort. When a character generates an idiotic plan, it feels true to their youth. When a character fails at predicting the behavior of the being, it's because the creature is a fascinating blend of known mythology and unknown capacity. What is this thing, and what is it capable of? Unlike more established horror subgenres with familiar foes, we're trying to figure out the monster right along with our protagonists, and the effect is electrifying.

I haven't seen Mitchell's other film (The Myth of the American Sleepover) but it's obvious the guy is a gifted storyteller. The movie never drags or lags or slags. The storytelling is economical in all the right places. It knows when to skip over information that isn't germane to the central conflict, and it knows when to attend to key moments with laserlike focus. This movie could have so easily been dragged into a morass of cliches, but there isn't a whiff of schlock in the thing. It's a movie that knows what it's about, which is one of the highest compliments I can give.

As if all that weren't enough to recommend this film as a standout in a stagnant genre, the cinematography and soundtrack are killer. Mike Gioulakis' camera has a muscle-tensing habit of waiting and watching. So many still shots of landscapes, buoyed by silence, or the wind rushing through the trees. Will a solitary figure congeal out of the darkness? It's more effective than a dozen jumpscares (of which there are few in this movie, and they work like gangbusters).

The movie even has a signature shot! Watch for the moments when the stationary camera begins spinning, slowly, showing us an entire 360 degree panorama in one unbroken shot. It's ridiculously effective. It makes us feel like we are looking over our shoulder, scanning the environment for that telltale stride. I've never seen a camera motif like it, a more sophisticated version of the classic "we can see what's behind the character but they cannot" shot, and the tension it builds is unreal.

And the soundtrack! Disasterpeace crafts an ominous synthy throwback score that pulls you in and doesn't let go. I'm listening to it now. The rhythms and atonal strains are jarring yet hypnotizing. It feels like an homage that manages to be something unique to itself. The only comparison I know of is the soundtrack for Maniac. The comparison is a fruitful one because in some ways these movies are antitheses of each other. It Follows is about the paranoia and desperation of she who is followed, and Maniac is about the perversion and torturous march of the follower. They would make a kick-ass double feature, though I guarantee your nerves would be shot to hell by the end of it all.

It's only fitting that It Follows is a movie that sticks with you. As the implications of that captivating final shot sink in, you feel as if you've gone on a journey. A journey from which there is no return.

3.5 / 5  BLOBS