Leave (2022) surprising blend of Nordic noir, supernatural chiller and social commentary (Review)

Norway is a remarkable country, beautiful and foreboding all at once. The mountains and fjords speak of a wild landscape, while the universal health care and welcoming cities indicate a peak of civilisation. It is a country with a strong religious history, with over 60% identifying as Christian and only 11% as atheist. Norway is also the nation credited with creating the modern black metal music genre. Thus, like any country, it has contradictions and tensions, and such tensions are prime fodder for cinematic exploration.

Looking at the synopsis of Leave, written by Thomas Moldestad and directed by Alex Herron, the social divisions of Norway might not seem that prominent. We open with a 911 call that brings a police officer to a cemetery in Massachusetts in 2002, where he finds a baby abandoned among the graves. The title sequence then presents a montage of flaming words and satanic images, suggesting a story of occultism or a demonic presence. We then jump forward twenty-odd years to meet Hunter White (Alicia von Rittberg), about to head off for college in Georgetown (which might remind the horror-literate viewer of The Exorcist). But rather than driving a long way south, Hunter takes a plane east, landing in Bergen, Norway where she sets out to learn the truth about her parentage.

Certain questions quickly arise as to how Hunter knows where to go and what to look for, but Moldestad’s script is smart and efficient enough to drop these details in without the need for heavy exposition. This is part of Leave’s strength, because Hunter’s investigation (granted, her name is rather on the nose) involves gathering crucial but not obviously connected details from Cecilia (Ellen Dorrit Petersen), Kristian (Morten Holst) and the Norheim family, Torstein (Stig R. Amdam), Stian (Herman Tømmeraas), Olav (Gerald Petteren) and Lillian (Ragnhild Gudbrandsen). Never does the film become bogged down in long descriptions, and the gorgeous interiors by Andrea Christina Røsset are beautifully shot by Sjur Aathun, ensuring that Hunter’s journey is engaging and entertaining, albeit melancholy and increasingly sinister.

Indeed, the welcoming homes steadily become more threatening, as secrets of the past emerge and Hunter finds herself haunted. Herron maintains a pleasing ambiguity throughout much of the film, leaving the viewer uncertain whether the malevolent images are psychological or supernatural. They are certainly frightening, as Hunter is haunted by visions of mysterious flames as well as a figure that both turns keys and slides blackened hands across her shoulder. Some of these hauntings are presented as dreams, but the line between dream and something else becomes increasingly blurred. Similarly, expectations about particular groups and indeed symbols prove to be little more than prejudice. What do we expect of black metal musicians, mental institute patients and wealthy families? This will vary according to your genre knowledge, but Leave still offers surprises for different audiences.

These surprises are all the more impressive when Leave combines elements from such disparate films as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Ring, Lords of Chaos and Crimson Peak. yet manages to feel fresh and vibrant. At times it is creepy, with occasional overplayed beats such as pages fluttering in the breeze caused by something passing that we cannot see, but for the most part suggestion is the order of the day, with shadowy corridors, torrential rain and Hunter’s aforementioned dreams creating an unsettling atmosphere. There are some points where the film turns out and out horrific, with genuine jump scares as Herron shows a strong command of cinematic space where a sudden appearance places the viewer in Hunter’s startled and vulnerable position. There are highly stylised sequences to show past events, revelations that may leave the viewer sucking air and also a very uncomfortable scene that is shot with a straightforward banality to fully express the all too human horror taking place. At other points, however, the film is touching and emotional, Hunter’s bonding with the different people she meets is expressive of her need for connection. Perhaps less forgivable are some cliched moments of horror film characters being unnecessarily stupid, but these are at least contextualised. There is sometimes a smugness among viewers to say, ‘I wouldn’t do that’, but the characters have done it, so either we go with it, or don’t.

Part of whether we go with it or not comes down to the cast. All the performances are strong, working with understatement rather than histrionics. Alicia von Rittberg is an engaging protagonist, demonstrating capability and naivety in equal measure. Close-ups of her face point to the deep troubles within her, as well as the open personality that encourages others to respond. Ellen Dorrit Petersen provides a non-nonsense resolve combined with genuine compassion, while Ragnhild Gudbrandsen imbues Lilliam with the warmth that makes you want to have tea with her. As Stian, Herman Tømmeraas conveys tearaway youth vibes, flaunting his privilege but also resentment towards the older generation that makes his bond with Hunter understandable. Morten Holst is somewhat underserved by the script, but the grief and anger that he expresses as Kristian feel genuine and we are left as affected by his outbursts as Hunter. And in the role of Torstein, Stig R. Amdam radiates a quiet authority which influences all around him, even when Hunter defies his wishes and keeps digging.

Despite its name, which echoes Get Out but also proves to have further meaning, Leave invites the viewer to stick around and join Hunter in her, well, hunt, offering scares and revelations along the way. With its combination of memories, investigation and horrors, Leave is an intriguing, gripping and genuinely surprising blend of Nordic noir, supernatural chiller and social commentary.

Vincent’s Archive: Leave (2022)