MIDNIGHT REVIEWS Umma
Midnight Reviews features reviews and thought pieces written and edited by a parent, at night, after bedtime.
This afternoon’s movie…
“Another Daddy Story, Daddy.”
“That’s six stories Daddy’s made up now. Shall we play with some toys instead?”
(bursts into tears)
Review: Daddy Stories are, from word of mouth, bringing people back to story time, distracting them from other more modern playthings like the broken Buzz or building blocks. However, by the ninth instalment (Daddy Buys a Snickers) the series does suffer from the law of diminishing returns.
The evening review…
UMMA (1hr 23mins)
Directed by: Iris K. Shim
Featuring: Sandra Oh, Fivel Stewart, Dermot Mulroney
Synopsis: Amanda (Oh) and her daughter Chris (Stewart) are beekeepers whose business selling honey whilst living off the grid has recently made great strides. However, the delivery of her mother’s remains leads to Amanda’s home being haunted by the mother’s malevolent spirit. This is further complicated by Chris hoping to leave for college, despite the fact this will leave her isolated mother almost completely alone.
Review: Umma starts off tensely, making me decide that the bad thing about having a review blog that involves watching movies late at night… is that I had to watch Umma late at night. Is this an admission of my immature, unmanly nature, leading to a boyish quality that some might say is charming or irritating, or is it a slight against the film?
The answer to this question involves another question: the inclusion of Sandra Oh, and Sam Raimi as producer, gives Umma the solid names it needs to catapult it up the watchlists of Netflix. But are these names the icing on the cake, or are they crutches Umma uses to limp to the finish line? Like all review writers who think highly of themselves, I will not be answering this question.
The first third does the standard fare very well. The flashes of lightning as Amanda fears the shadows in the dark, a motif carried by the electricity that fuels a supposed medical condition, is something you want to appear so the room is lit up, and at the same time is chilling due to the secrets it will reveal.
The script’s intricacies occasionally become as inconsistent as the film’s general tone.
There are flashes of other films here as well, most notably Jordan Peele’s Nope, but with gothic overtones to run alongside the modern staging. We have a first third that is incredibly tight and does terrifically terrifying things with lighting and framing, albeit sometimes with distracting Dutch angles that seem rote in comparison to other, more atmospheric horror. This is followed by a highly emotional two thirds that feel like a different film altogether. It’s just a shame the film can’t combine these two elements to create a greater whole.
Umma, like a lot of horror movies (and horrific events in real life), introduces someone trying to, insisting on, living normally in abnormal circumstances. Amanda’s fear of electricity is clearly something to do with flashbacks featuring a child’s voice and a hurtful mother and it’s here that Umma reveals what its story is really about. Trauma, like lightning, may be far away at times but it is there, distracting from everything else and seemingly impossible to deal with. An effective metaphor, even if it does actually distract from the horror elements.
It’s Sandra Oh, at times sympathetic and antagonistic, who takes the spotlight.
In attempting to remain scary, the script’s intricacies occasionally become as inconsistent as the film’s general tone. But it effectively uses the set-up of a haunting to show Amanda’s fear: that each generation is doomed to repeat mistakes, that she too will end up refusing to let her daughter leave, clinging on to her whilst slinging horrible, guilt-edged words at her just like her own mother did.
Memories are haunting her, but there are also the things she can’t remember; the things she can’t see that are behind her or just out of frame. If she could see them and confront them she might be able to deal with them. But it takes a lot. By the end, the horror is almost forgotten and is replaced with deep-set sadness and finally triumph at how Amanda attempts to leave it all behind her. The film can’t be faulted on the emotional front.
Stewart as the daughter struggling to break free and Mulroney as the friend stuck in the middle are effective, but it’s Sandra Oh, at times sympathetic and antagonistic, who takes the spotlight. Amanda confronts her mother’s spirit most often in the context of her daughter leaving or being in danger, and often mistakes one for the other, in the same way she mistakes her daughter for her mother. You can see this confusion, this inner monologue, play out in every little twitch Oh lets us see.
Ultimately, Umma as a movie is as lost as its main character. It’s probably best recommended to viewers looking for an effective, heartfelt drama as opposed to out-and-out horror fans. Hopefully it can find the audience it needs.
As of writing, Umma is available to watch on Netflix.
