Survival horror works by pitting humanity against nature and the elements. The sub-genre, therefore, taps into fears of the unknown, the uncontrollable, and the insurmountable. This could be a mountain, a river, the sea, or a cave, and dangerous beasties are optional.
QUICKSAND, directed by Andres Beltran and written by Matt Pitts, takes this premise and makes the threat, surprisingly enough, quicksand, the fuel of many a nightmare. A fear of quicksand is entirely logical, as it involves the ground beneath your feet literally being unstable and treacherous, and if trapped there you could effectively drown in earth. Scientific research has identified that it is actually impossible to drown in quicksand, but this does not stop the concept from being uncannily terrifying, quicksand being both land and water, looks like one, behaves like the other, is somehow a combination of both, and yet something all of its own. Thus, in popular culture, quicksand remains less terra firma than firmly terror.
The drawback of a narrative is that quicksand involves being stuck. It’s a single location, and threats must either be from the immediate environment or externally introduced. What dramatic dimensions does this allow? In the case of QUICKSAND, the answer is reasonably dramatic, up to a point. We open with a pair of apparent ne’er do wells in an appropriately ominous forest, spooked by something that suggests dangerous creatures, and one comes a cropper. Then we meet Josh (Allan Hawco) and Sofia (Carolina Gaitan), a couple preparing to divorce. They return to Sofia’s native Columbia for a medical conference, both being doctors. The tension between them is quickly established as they clash over communicating with their children, their accommodation arrangements, as well as how, when, and who will tell their friend Marcos (Sebastian Eslava) about the divorce. Despite this tension and perhaps more in the interests of the plot than anything else, although this is narratively justified, they take a hike near but crucially not in a dangerous area. The film, therefore, avoids the standard recklessness and stupidity that often characterises horror film characters, and instead, things take a turn for the unfortunate. As a result, Sofia and Josh end up in, well, where else?
This terror could have been emphasised with more intimate sound design and closer attention to the actual sense of being stuck, allowing the audience to empathise more with the physical situation
The writing and direction are efficient in getting our characters to where we expect them to be while also providing sufficient character depth. Once Sofia and Josh are in the titular colloid (look it up), much of the drama depends on the interaction between the characters. This is effective, as recriminations, recommendations, and power dynamics shift between them. A thick soup of water and earth may not be the best place to have a heart-to-heart, but the director and actors make it work, investing us in their plight as well as their relationship. DOP Santiago Otoya helps matters with a muted colour palette, as does production designer Sofia Guzman, their efforts turning the forest, the mist, and especially the quicksand itself into a grimy, atmospheric, and effectively gloopy environment.
The survival aspect works as Josh and Sofia must adapt to their surroundings, encounter some grisly relics in the bog, and try different strategies to escape. The film is most effective when it focuses on their fractious relationship and how this translates directly into their survival situation. It loses its way when other elements are introduced, most especially an ophidian interloper. Being fussy about biological details will lead to a viewer being annoyed, but then again, is any film really scientifically accurate? That said, the film does take pains to mention that the dangers of quicksand are hypothermia and dehydration rather than suffocation, so when the threat of an animal is over-dramatised, it feels excessive. More importantly, this aspect feels forced, unlike, say, the sharks in OPEN WATER who are properly foreshadowed and more organically encountered. An attack by ants is more centered in the situation, but this seems to be included in order to introduce a history of alcoholism that goes nowhere.
A bigger problem is some dreamy reveries where our characters seem to almost float away from their dire situation. These have the appearance of hallucinations or even near-death experiences, but they take the viewer (literally) out of the marsh as well, and the terror in a survival horror is feeling the visceral threat of death. In the case of QUICKSAND, this terror could have been emphasised with more intimate sound design and closer attention to the actual sense of being stuck, allowing the audience to empathise more with the physical situation. As a result, the dread and terror inherent in quicksand is not explored as far as it could be.
That said, the relationship aspect of the film is well handled, as is the wider context of tourists in an unfamiliar area and the human as well as natural threats they can encounter. As a result, QUICKSAND certainly does not suck, although in some respects it might have benefitted from sucking a bit more.
Quicksand is available to stream on Shudder
Vincent’s Archive: Quicksand (2023)
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