Hereditary ★★½

The most horrifying thing is the fact that Collette’s character would willingly send her daughter to a party like that — build around that and its ramifications and ripple effects. It is brought up later in one of the fiery exchanges between Collette and Wolff but it seems quickly discarded in order for the film’s pedestrian strangeness to win out, which is a shame. The depictions of trauma and grief blend nicely with the film’s patience and Aster’s respectable and playful formal chops, but when the film’s long game is revealed, everything predictably grinds to a hault. The competing tones don’t help either — the last act relies too heavily on a disappointing playbook of lifts, redundancies and lame shocks, all in the name of producing pull-quotes and throwing dirt on the film’s best bits: Collette’s palpable dismay, the crumbling of the family unit, etc. And it’s the same fucking ending as The Witch. Get used to it, I guess.

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