Hush (2016) Mike Flanagan’s Early Suspenseful Horror, Reimagined

Aren’t you a lucky duck? With these words, writer-director Mike Flanagan and co-writer/star Kate Siegel introduce a special edit on this limited edition of their first collaboration, HUSH, originally released in 2016 on Netflix, and only now granted a physical release. And the owner of this edition is indeed most fortunate, for they receive two distinct versions of the film, as well as an embarrassment of riches in the bonus material that makes the long delay for this release just about worth the wait. 

The premise of HUSH is beautifully simple. A deaf author, Maddie (Kate Siegel) is alone at home when a murderous Man (John Gallagher, Jr.) comes a calling and a killing. Trapped in her house in the woods, Maddie must use her limited resources to survive this sadistic home invasion. From this straightforward set-up, Flanagan delivers a home invasion horror that is focused and taut, gripping and effectively nasty. Flanagan has demonstrated throughout his career a skilful balance between cruelty and kindness, and this balance is well-suited to the home invasion sub-genre that showcases humanity’s inhumanity and at times, its beauty. 

As Maddie, Kate Siegel is wonderfully humane. She is engaging and warm, frustrated yet creative. This serves to endear her to the audience, whether she is attempting to cook, summoning her cat or struggling with the ending to her novel. Though her interactions are limited, a brief FaceTime chat with her sister Max (Emma Groves) as well as a friendly talk with neighbour Sarah (Samantha Sloyan) make her empathetic, funny and relatable. In their brief appearances, Max and Sarah, as well as John (Michael Trucco) are clearly expressed, conveying Flanagan’s skill as a writer. Especially pleasing, none of these characters are stupid, the film avoiding that particular horror cliché. 

By contrast, the antagonist is chillingly blank, despite having almost as much screentime as Maddie. No explanation is given for his cruelty, and the Man initially appears inhuman thanks to his mask, before becoming all too human in his sadism. There is no frothing at the mouth, no explanation, not even misogyny or lust, here we have someone who likes to kill, but also plays with his victim. This toying leads to sequences of great suspense, as the Man stalks around the house, attempts entry, torments Maddie and drives her to greater extremity. Maddie’s ordeal is expressed through long takes, surreal touches, and instances of frame analysis horror as threat lurks in the background, sometimes in and other times out of focus. The suspense sequences climax with visceral moments of violence, with the right amount of blood to avoid going over the top, including a very nasty instance of hand trauma and various Chekhov’s [insert weapon here], all of which is part of the fun of the genre. 

Flanagan has subsequently worked with more sprawling scapes such as DOCTOR SLEEP and THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. Here, he shows the great potential for a contained space, the potential of which is further explored in the most innovative aspect of this release: the second edit of the film. Viewers may be familiar with the original edit, but this edition also comes with the Shush Cut, presented in black & white with an alternative audio mix. The monochrome palette makes the film starker and more unsettling, while the lack of music and revised sound design focuses attention on the intrusive nature of burning and alarms as well as metal slicing into flesh and blood sluicing out of wounds. This more focused sensory world generates further empathy for Maddie, the viewer denied particular features just as she is. This does relate to the one criticism of the film: it is a pity that the central actor is not actually deaf as this would have made for good representation. Aside from that, both versions of the film offer plenty to enjoy. 

As mentioned, this edition comes with an overload of extra features. The original edit features an audio commentary with co-writer/director Mike Flanagan, co-writer/actor Kate Siegel, and actors Samantha Sloyan, John Gallagher Jr. and Michael Trucco. The commentators are warm, lively and engaging, although with so many voices, it can be hard to keep track. As a solution to this, the commentary is also available as a Picture-In-Picture format, so the viewer can see the commentators talking and laughing together. Their reactions to key moments, especially instances of violence (watch out for that hand!), are especially fun. 

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The commentary and interviews are all recorded in 2024 at the studio of the Shout! Factory, which allows for extensive reflections and retrospective insights as well as offering a nice continuity. ‘The Dance Macabre’ features Flanagan discussing films he made with a camcorder as a child, and the inclusion of footage from these films adds to the charm he presents. His description of how the film came together in terms of production, such as working on the script with Siegel, casting and the design of the mask, show insights into the creative process, as well as the challenges of finding and using a suitable location and the practical demands that led to compromise. Fans of the director may chuckle at Flanagan’s reference to this being his first ‘hand-mangling’, and his delight over the opportunity for this revised version of the film is infectious. 

Siegel provides her own retrospective insights in ‘To Stand Alone’. Like Flanagan, she recalls the importance of their early date and what inspired the production. She is fun to watch both in terms of her enthusiasm and her self-deprecation (the flicking of her own forehead is hilarious). Her discussion of the character, as both co-writer and actor, provides intriguing and revealing insights into the production, and she beautifully conveys the experience of stunt work as well as ADR (more hilarity on the heavy breathing). 

Other actors Samantha Sloyan, John Gallagher Jr., and Michael Trucco also provide retrospective interviews, all with evocative titles. In ‘The Constant Reader’, Sloyan discusses connections between her favoured films and HUSH, as well her later collaborations with Flanagan. Footage from the shoot gives the viewer more information on Sloyan’s skill at acting dead, which is amusing. Gallagher relates his experiences in ‘The Shape of Silence’, such as when the script came for him, his fondness for horror and his reactions to the role. His discussion of using a crossbow as well as the Man’s skill (and lack thereof) add complexity and depth to what could have been a one-dimensional figure. In ‘Silent Witness’, Trucco mentions the significance of Flanagan at the time he was offered the role as well as the script being ‘very clever’. His discussion of rhythm and choreography for his part in the film, as well as how bladders and tubes worked on set, provides further insights into filmmaking. There is also fun to be had in spotting the materials in the background of these interviews. Look out for book titles, a familiar name as well as an iconic typewriter and sledgehammer. 

Producer Trevor Macy gets his own interview, ‘One Good Scare’, as do composers the Newton Brothers with ‘Violent Strains’, and cinematographer James Kniest in ‘One Terrible Night’. Macy describes the production of the film as ‘quiet’, seemingly no pun intended, due to its low-key nature of calling in favours and not approaching distributors early on. He gives a great description of Flanagan as a ‘360-degree filmmaker’, but also pays due attention to the various departments involved in the production. His reflections on the film, including the significance of the Shush edit, indicate the endurance of HUSH as an experience. The Newtons get their work highlighted through the very sound design of the interview video, and recount the extent of their work with Flanagan. They mention the influence of ambient sounds as well as the contrast between the musical cues for Maddie and those for the Man. For those unfamiliar with musical composition, terms like ‘neutral’, ‘organic’ and ‘gritty’ provide useful education about how music works. Kniest talks about his swift enthusiasm for the project and the opportunities offered by shooting in the woods. Behind the scenes footage of him lighting the scenes shows the house filled with people, which is an amusing contrast to the film where the spaces of the house never feature more than two people. Much like Macy, he mentions the enduring popularity of the film, conveying the sense that this is a film that instils a lot of pride and affection. The film’s original trailer as well as an image gallery caps off the extras on the HUSH edit. 

The Shush edit also comes with a charming introduction from Flanagan and Siegel, that provides fascinating background on how and why this edit was created. Their easy banter and gentle ribbing of each other carries over into the commentary (distinct from the commentary on the HUSH edit), from comments about asparagus and the need to change the film’s title, as well as creative decisions about framing, speed of performance and communicating without words.

In ‘Mike Flanagan Artist Talk’, a feature-length Q&A with the filmmaker recorded at Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal in 2024, Flanagan discusses the development of his career through different roles in filmmaking, as well as influences upon his work and his thoughts on particular characters of his creation. These intriguing anecdotes are likely to be especially interesting both to budding filmmakers as well as auteur fans, especially as Flanagan discusses the extent of his career, with a detailed but accessible delivery. Flanagan is joined again by Siegel in ‘Beyond Fest Q&A with Mike Flanagan and Kate Siegel’, recorded at Beyond Fest in Los Angeles in 2024. Their recollections and reflections on the production of HUSH, such as rehearsing in their home and then adapting the script based on shooting locations, are engaging, and of particular interest is the decision-making process for the Shush edit, such as why monochrome and the alternative sound mix work so well. Unfortunately, the long shot of both Q&As places the speakers at a distance, slightly overwhelmed by the environment. Also, the recurring appearances of Siegel and Flanagan lead to an overlap of material, so the presence of other voices is very welcome. 

Of these voices, the most welcome is author and critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, who presents visual essay ‘The Silent Mask’ that explores the film’s representation of deafness. Heller-Nicholas places her response to the film within her personal experience of deafness and links HUSH to her wider research. Her discussion of the film’s attention to different senses, including image, sound and even smell and taste demonstrate how certain impulses can be expressed through film, while using a psychoanalytic approach to blank masks in horror and the importance of the killer’s anonymity. The editing of the video essay intercuts footage from HUSH with other images including film posters and stills and, while most of the video essay is voiceover, there are some judicious inclusions of dialogue and other sounds from the film, giving the video essay a well-rounded approach. This is indeed a suitable summation of this edition, well-rounded in its coverage of multiple aspects of the film and definitely worth making noise about.

VINCENT’S ARCHIVE – HUSH