Our tortured hero is true crime novelist Ellison, played by an almost unrecognizable Ethan Hawke. I say unrecognizable not because of his facial hair, but because he genuinely did a great job of disappearing into the role of an everyday family man-slash-true crime novelist. He's an enjoyable character to get to know, and that's a good job as we do spend a solid hour and a half of the two hour run time with him alone. He may not be the best of family men, as he has dragged his family along with him on his latest project, which includes relocating them into the house of a recently murdered family. He's likable though; he swears, he drinks. He argues with his bitchy wife and noisy kids. He worries about his writing and his skill and his ability to provide for his family. He is believable.
As night falls upon Ellison in his new house, we come to the meat of the whole story, and that is the box of home footage mysteriously left behind in the attic. Watching back the old super 8 films on a noisy projector (In his office. Alone. In the dead of night.) Ellison observes four tapes of morbid events that will stick with you long after you've left the theater. These tapes are where the film shines its grisly darkest.
What Ellison has stumbled upon are the home videotapes chronicling a series of murders. Each tape begins with a family about their daily lives, watching TV, playing by the pool, in the back yard, before each one then changes abruptly to the moment the family was murdered. This is no monster movie junk either, these are commonplace, incredibly realistic methods of death. The way people could be killed any day of the week, anywhere, by anyone. These tapes are nasty, disturbing and you can't fucking look away.
At this time I'll also have to point out the film's score, which did wonders for the atmosphere. The hectic life of Ellison is accompanied by strange, almost a melodic tones just as erratic as his life, whilst the viewing of the tapes are wallowing in a haunting distorted chant. The music is never invasive or dominating of the scene, it is just there, and calculatedly compliments the visuals.
Ellison is disturbed by his discoveries in the tapes, leading him on a frenzied search for further clues and links between the murders. By sheer accident, he stumbles upon a thread between them. It is here that Sinister introduces its antagonist, the Freddy, the Leatherface etc. A leering figure appears in each video, if only for a frame or so- the only apparent connection between the crimes. Clues begin to be dropped from here on in that tie up the film's twist awfully nicely, and I admit I was thrown by it. So many red-herrings are so carefully placed that nothing feels forced or obvious. Are we really watching what's going on with Ellison's family whilst he and his wife argue over the night terror outbreaks of his teenage son? We should be.
The entity within the pictures, as well as the appearance of an iconic occult symbol (A great bit of graphic design, whoever was responsible for that. I see tattoos happening.) leads Ellison to contact the helpful professor of occult studies at the local university (What university is this? Miskatonic?) to find more information. Naturally, Ellison gets more than he bargained for.
I liked how they handled their villain. The problem with so much horror is that nothing remains scary for long. Once we've seen a killer take out his victims scene after scene through a feature length show, we've long lost any fear of mystery. The mysterious figure in the tapes, a Babylonian deity known as Bughuul, is rarely used, almost never directly seen, and rarely even mentioned. He retains the mystery factor right till the end of the film. We know sparse, scattered details of the entity. But we do find out that so little information exists about him, as it has all been destroyed in superstitious paranoia. You see, Bughuul exists within any image of himself, and from those images his influence can be exerted. Possession. Abduction. Even manifestation. Ellison learns about this long after he's watched the tapes and placed images of the entity upon his walls. Brilliant.
Some might not like how Sinister wraps up. It is certainly unexpected, and unlike the rest of the film's slow subtle pace, the finale takes its final turns at breakneck speed and is over before you even realize it. That's the definition of a crescendo of course, and I think it fit. It's ballsy, it doesn't bail out on its convictions at the last moment like you expect it to. The story is told and it all ends in a bloody flash.
Sinister will fill a bit of the gap left by shitty modern horror films. If things go this way, perhaps we'll start seeing a change in the genre, which more than any other out there, desperately needs a shot in the arm to stay alive.
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