When 'Hereditary' hit its peak in an unmissable moment that petrifies the soul, I was thrust through a torrid gateway to a suffocating dimension of childhood regret and trauma. If you are anything like me, chances are you were seized by palpitations and fits as an unforgiving bout PTSD took hold.
Lately the title “Horror Movie” has been awarded to films that just don’t deserve it. “Get Out” has a few gory moments in its final half hour, but it’s a suspense thriller. “mother!” includes its share of blood, but not the slicing and dicing found in traditional horror films. And neither provide the scares required for the genre.
Hereditary scared me. So it was good. 4.5/5. See you next time — Ok, all joking aside, Hereditary is a damn scary film that is scary in ways that are pretty against the grain for most modern horror, or at least American horror traditions. If The Conjuring is the thesis for exemplary use of modern horror tropes and traditions, Hereditary is its antithesis or rather a synthesis of them + writer-director Ari Aster's hatred of family and knack for complete subversions of general taboos and story expectations (see his short The Strange Thing About the Johnsons if you need proof of this).