Film Analysis: The Babadook

Truly horrifying experiences happen every day, in both theaters and public or private spaces. Home invasions and police brutality are just as horrifying as the concepts of a haunted house or spiritual possession. The horror genre of film works well because it incorporates the world around it and expands on these realities. The Babadook (Kent, 2014) is an Australian horror film that explores the ideas of motherhood, mental health, and fighting your “inner demons.” The movie is also an example of “true horror,” which can be defined as not only scaring the audience but creating discomfort and tension that lasts longer than simply the movies run time. That doesn’t mean just sleeping with the lights on either; it can be as simple as thinking about

memory different after seeing the film, or taking a different street home after work. This concept of true horror can be divided into three separate layers: the foundation of atmosphere and tone, the corruption of the environment and safe space, and finally the building of discomfort by creating an inescapable future.
Calling The Babadook true horror is subjective; however, by utilizing an extensive list of terrifying tropes, whilst also shaping them into images that are fresh, the movie places itself within the genre. One key aspect of the movie is the attention to color and its effect on the viewer. With a grey tone to the colors, the movie makes use of an atmospheric suffusion of solemnity. Subsequently, The Babadook removes the “pure” or “light” from objects and people alike, resulting in the “dark side” pervading most scenes. An illustration of this is the children’s book Amelia reads to her son; the shadows are deeper and darker when paired next to the muted palette. With the simple choice of altering color, the book itself becomes more sinister. Adding to the color choices, the clothing that the character’s wear has a faded look about them, and the movement is sluggish in many scenes. By taking the color and, by extension, even the life out of the movie as a whole, the audience is left with lightly decayed mise-en-scene. What remains is the grim “evil” of the world around the characters. Coupled with lighting techniques common in horror, and a production design suited to add a feeling of claustrophobia, the film forges the baseline tone. With regard to the assertion that film creates true horror, the cinematographic choices of the entire production are the foundation causing intrinsic anxiety. For that reason, The Babadook arguably creates “true horror.”
Associating the central themes clearly with corruption of an idea or object considered comfortable and safe creates a second layer to horror. Amelia (Essie Davis) and Samuel (Noah Wiseman) represent the corruption of safety and innocence respectively. Namely, Samuel is a young boy who is troubled and becomes even more so as the story progresses, whereas Amelia symbolizes a loss of motherhood and compassion. Her distant and worn down attitude takes her out of reality, where her reality is caring for a troubled child. And societal norms place the burden of being a safe place on the mother, even when she herself may not be able to offer that. Amelia is in that place in the movie, and scenes like the birthday party, or when Sam tells the woman in the store about his father accentuate this idea. The plot of the movie is also about the Babadook possessing her and causing her to kill her own child. This turns the concept of mothering in on itself, corrupting it in the process. Moreover, the loss of both is slow and the movie takes its time with the corruption. Especially considering the audience must watch the devolution of both characters, whilst simultaneously experiencing it with Amelia. The difficulty of being a single mother, with a child that is troubled no less, fosters sympathy for Amelia. The sympathy then gets tested as the movie moves forward and gradually rises in tension. Furthermore, the stress that Samuel causes is palpable, and one can’t help but wonder if Samuel is making it up. Overall, there are no cues about what, or how this, is happening. Not until the finale, when everything seemingly goes back to normal, is it understood the Babadook was Amelia all along, and her “evil” side. Also, she keeps it hidden away and locked in a basement. Horror really becomes terrifying when the environment, the haven around the character, becomes the monster itself. Loss of safety and the sudden assault of vulnerability is visceral, and numerous scenes play into this notion: the father’s clothes being laid out, the figure looming behind their elderly neighbor, the cockroaches pouring from the wall. Subsequently, a second layer of horror adds to the overall experience and the skeleton of terror comes together.
The final step is to construct tangible tension, or tension that causes physical reactions in one fashion or another. This can be accomplished by introducing the “inescapable future.” By removing the option of escape, the future becomes grim and the audience faces the question of “what will happen now?” as opposed to “will they escape?” Amelia moves through the movie seeking the solution to every problem presented. In fact, she is proactive in making sure that she gets medication for her son to try and stop what’s happening, and then goes to the police naturally when it’s believed she is being stalked. Both are natural responses to the situations that have arisen. However, the tension continues to build as these solutions are ineffective, and thus the inescapable future materializes as reality. Accordingly, the inevitable downfall becomes corporeal. In The Babadook, the actual “presence” itself becomes visible and there seems to be no escaping it. In fact, the movie climaxes with the full corruption of Amelia and it appears to be the end. Therefore, when the characters do overcome the horrifying situation it is not only far more surprising, but adds to the character’s strength by forcing them to survive whatever happens; done in part by placing them in real danger.
In comparison, the film Fruitvale Station accomplishes something exceedingly similar.

In fact, it can be called a horror film as well. By showing the cell phone videos at the beginning of the film, the audience knows what is going to happen at the end of the film. The future is physically, by including the initial footage, inescapable. Unquestionably, the Fruitvale Station shooting is horrific. That movie in various ways is a thriller/drama, but it is a horror film too. To an entire demographic it is represents a fear that permeates day to day life. Yet it is also horrifying outside of its effect on one group, because it is a real life event. It really happened, and that is horrifying in and of itself. Additionally, it follows the horror movie outline presented in this essay: it has the elements of the genre (especially found footage movies), and the environment, what is considered “safe” or “comfortable,” is corrupted, and finally makes the impending future inescapable. Oscar (Micheal B. Jordan) has a family that you know is going to lose him later in this film in one way or another, and when his mother suggests he take the train the audience is left with a sickening knowledge that guilt will follow her throughout the rest of her life because of that simple, innocuous piece of advice. The climax of The Babadook leads the viewer to think that Amelia, who has already killed the family dog, is going to kill Sam. At the last moment possible, Sam gets through to her. The

inescapable future is thus “escaped,” and the evil presences is banished. Though, in reality the inescapable future is simply diverted as the Babadook still lives; locked away in the basement, and fed by Amelia. Fruitvale Stations inescapable future is true though, and Oscars character gets shot on the station platform. Briefly, the viewer will think that there is a chance for Oscar, but he still dies in the hospital. These endings are not the same, but they carry a similar tone. Especially as the camera footage of Oscar’s memorial tribute is shown; both movies end with a subtle cliffhanger, the chance of both events happening again in the future. Using the “true horror formula” outlined, Fruitvale Station can be classified as a horror film, and for this reason, it is a perfect complement to The Babadook.
In the end, The Babadook takes the viewer through layers of horror to create it’s intended effect.

In a similar fashion, Fruitvale Station also tells a narrative that falls into the horror genre, just in an unfamiliar way. Creating the feel of tension, turning the surroundings against characters, and removing or obstructing a hopeful future allows a viewer to not only feel but also experience the fear and distress presented. True horror does not simply come from causing the audience to flinch or jump. It comes from sowing a seed of paranoia and unease within, and carefully cultivate those feelings to an extent that it becomes hard to not think about the movie and what you witnessed. It doesn’t matter if the film is based in the supernatural, the psychological, or the societal, because they all have the potential to form this feeling of fear. A viewer will think differently about race (for better or worse) after watching Fruitvale Station. The power of movies to affect a viewer is remarkable, and the horror genre clearly represents it. Like the cliché statement “It’s like watching a train wreck, I can’t look away,” horror films take on a role similar to watching a crisis happen; one can’t help but think about them, even after one is home and supposedly safe. Horror movies like The Babdadook and Fruitvale Station have simply tapped into the reality of the statement, and use it

effectively.