Pyewacket (2017)

Day 15 of Sobriety.
 

Well, it was Friday the 13th today, but I avoided the obvious and watched Pyewacket, yet another film that I found out about through the Discover the Horror podcast. I had never actually heard of this 2017 Canadian film until they discussed on their episode about “witch movies.” The name is apparently taken from the name of a witch’s familiar spirit that was mentioned by “Witchfinder General” Matthew Hopkins in a text he wrote in 1647.

The film is about a teenage girl called Leah who is a kind of goth/metal fan, and as sometimes goes with that territory, she is also interested in the occult. She has a difficult relationship with her mother (played by Walking Dead actress Laurie Holden), who is raising her alone following her father’s death in a car crash. After one particularly bad fight with her mother, she reaches in anger for one of her books on the occult and attempts to summon a demon to kill her mother. Unfortunately for her, it works.

I enjoyed this very slow-burn, low-key film. I liked the pervading depressive mood, and the film’s focus on human experiences such as grief, anger, angst, friendship, and family as much as supernatural horror and fear. The supernatural elements were handled pretty well, and even when we get to see the demon that is summoned it is done quite evocatively, rather than shoving a crappy CGI monster in our faces—so kudos for that.

One area I felt the film fell a little short, however, was in its depiction of Leah and her small group of friends as the school’s goth/metal/alternative misfit clique. Having been one of those kids myself, I thought the portrayal did not seem very authentic. Of course, times have changed since I was a teenager a million years ago, so who knows, but it seemed like some adult scriptwriter and wardrobe department’s idea of what such kids must be like.

In the film, Leah’s mother is heavily still grief-stricken over the tragic death of her husband, and in many of her scenes she is accompanied by an open bottle of red wine and a glass—perched ever-present on the table by her side, like her own evil familiar. The persistent appearance of the wine also ties in well with the mother’s volatile swings in temperament, as she tries to deal with her grief. In some scenes that struggle manifests as some particularly vicious vitriol directed at her daughter, which the mother then deeply regrets later, presumably once she has sobered up.

Of course, those scenes made me think about my own drinking. I was never a bad-tempered drunk, but I’m sure my own daughter also became accustomed to seeing the ubiquitous open bottle or can squatting on the table by my side. Glad those days are gone—even if it has only been a couple of weeks so far.