Bring Her Back isn’t just a horror film—it’s a harrowing, deeply affecting descent into grief, loss, and the desperate things people do to outrun them. Directors Danny and Michael Philppou’s follow up to 2022′ Talk to Me is as emotionally jarring as it is viscerally terrifying, carving a space in modern horror where raw human pain is as central as the supernatural.
What truly separates Bring Her Back from its genre peers is its devastating emotional core. While many horror films use grief as a narrative device, the Philippous make it the engine of the story. Every chilling turn, every moment of dread, is anchored in the very real agony of mourning. This grounding gives weight to even the film’s most surreal and unnerving sequences, making them not just scary, but gutting.
Billy Barratt delivers a breakout performance as Andy, a teenager spiraling in the aftermath of his father’s untimely death. His portrayal is startlingly layered—equal parts vulnerable and volatile—and he brings a sincerity that makes his descent all the more heartbreaking. Matching him note for note is Sally Hawkins, in one of her most haunting roles yet, as the grieving mother clinging to any thread of hope, no matter how dark. Hawkins radiates quiet despair and desperation, grounding the film in humanity even as the supernatural begins to overwhelm the frame.
And overwhelm it does. The film’s creep factor is relentless— a pervasive sense of wrongness that lingers long after the credits roll. Yet the scares never feel cheap. Each one is earned, carefully built from the film’s strong storytelling and thematic weight. The sound design deserves particular praise, heightening the unease without ever overpowering it.
By the time Bring Her Back reaches its gut-punch of a finale, it’s clear this is a film less interested in jump scares than in exploring the slow, painful horror of not letting go. It’s disturbing, yes—but also beautiful in its unflinching look at grief’s toll.
In a year full of horror hopefuls, Bring Her Back is the one that stays with you. Not just because it scared you—but because it hurt you. And that’s what makes it unforgettable.
