Fresh Hell

Bluesky

When one day historians discuss the point when humanity finally embraced the online world, they will probably look not at the academic engagement of the Eighties, nor the onset of the eternal September in the mid-Nineties, but at the impact of Covid lockdowns in 2020. It was this that pushed ordinary people out of their comfort zones, presenting them with a choice between isolation and new forms of interaction. This, in turn, complicated their perception of boundaries between the virtual and the material, the concrete and the imaginary. It’s no surprise that a number of horror films emerged from that experience. Fresh Hell is the latest, and like some of its predecessors, it relates those boundaries to those long supposed to exist between our world and the realms of the occult.

The set-up is simple. A group of friends who got to know one another in an acting class assemble on Zoom for a catch-up, but one of their number, Laura, is missing. When she eventually arrives, after the others have already spent some time talking and drinking, she’s blurred and distorted. A stranger (writer/co-director Ryan Imhoff) then appears on her computer. He says that he hasn’t seen another person since he was bereaved months ago, and this tale of woe persuades our heroine, Grace (Lanise Antoine Shelley) to invite him in – a decision which those familiar with occult lore will immediately recognise as fraught with danger.

What follows mingles elements of slasher horror (there is a specific credit listed for gore) with the structure of a paranoid thriller. We follow events from Grace’s perspective as she becomes increasingly concerned about Laura, whose whereabouts are unclear. The behaviour of the stranger has unsettled her and over time he appears to be stalking members of the group, but are the apparently violent acts she witnesses through her computer real? Are they performed as a form of trolling, in pursuit of amusement or power? Is deepfakery involved?

Framed by news clips – audio and sometimes visual – the film dives into the experiences of uncertainty and disconnection that affected many people during that period, and which arguably set the stage for the political crises of today. Reference is made to conspiracy theories, which has the dual effect of directly inducing paranoid thinking and of making one wonder about the mental stability of the various people with whom Grace is communicating – not just the stranger. How might isolation have changed them? Of course, she will come to question her own sanity as well. And beyond all this lies another question: what can she actually do about it? Here, watching acts of aggression or self-harm on a computer screen becomes not unlike watching state abuses of power on TV.

There’s quite a bit to explore here and having established its agenda, the film doesn’t always seem to know what to do with it, but it works tonally and, as such, remains worth watching. Shelley is an effective lead and Will Mobeley’s theremin-haunted soundtrack helps to maintain an unsettling atmosphere. Splitting the film into acts adds to the sense of unnatural rigidity and ritual imposed upon interactions which ought to be organic. At what point does violence become attractive as a return to the natural, the instinctive – even if one is on the receiving end? Sanity takes ongoing effort, takes courage, takes Grace.