Undertone, in many ways, feels like an inevitability; the horror genre has a rich history of encroaching on normalcy, of taking a universal—and occasionally mundane— experience and twisting it in such a way as to cultivate a lingering (and exploitable) discomfort within an audience. And given just how rapidly podcasts have become ingrained in our culture (it’s estimated that over 50% of the U.S. population listens to podcasts each month), the ultimate existence of a horror film leveraging the medium and infringing on the comfort they provide has long seemed inexorable, like a when as opposed to an if.
And Undertone, the debut feature of writer/director Ian Tuason, is, in this regard, the first ‘mainstream’ horror film to explore the fears inherent to the burgeoning medium, as it’s the first wide-release to delve into the abject horror of a boring person with a podcast.
There’s been a steady hum around Undertone since its premiere at last year’s Fantasia International Film Festival; auteur purveyor A24 snatched up the film’s worldwide rights in a seven-figure deal shortly after its debut, and the film garnered some additional buzz after it was selected to play as part of the ‘Midnight’ program at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. It’s not as though the hype is wholly unwarranted, as Undertone, warts and all, is a well-crafted debut that throws its litany of (occasionally derivative) ideas at the wall in a myriad of innovative ways; it’s ultimately a film, however, that’s less than the sum of its parts, that’s disparate concepts and themes don’t fully coalesce into a satisfying whole and is arguably inhibited by the inherent restriction of its premise.
How one reacts to Undertone‘s opening moments will likely mirror how they react to the film in its totality; Evy, portrayed superbly by a breakout Nina Kiri, sings “Baa Baa Black Sheep” to her bedridden mother before going downstairs to record another episode of her paranormal podcast. The skeptic there to contrast her co-host’s unabashed belief in the supernatural, Evy approaches each subject discussed on the program through the lens of logic and reason, but there’s just something… different about a batch of audio files sent to them from an incoherent e-mail address. Lingering long shots in which the camera pans around the house help to create an air of tension supplemented by the unsettling recordings, which the viewer experiences for the first time alongside Evy and co-host Justin. The two get a bit overwhelmed after listening to the first few sound bites, and thus is born the cycle of ‘uncanny recording session, strange things happening to Evy, repeat’ that encompasses the rest of the movie.
If this opening sequence hooks you—if the immersive sound design and adequate visuals are enough to enthrall you in the film’s intended atmosphere—you’ll likely be on board for what the rest of the movie has to offer. If it fails to capture you, however, its structure quickly becomes monotonous; as the substance of the recordings begins to eerily overlap with Evy’s personal life, Tuason doubles—and triples—down on his atmospheric visual techniques, continuing to utilize prolonged shots that encompass wide areas of space as to suggest to the viewer that there may be something lurking in the darkness, just out of sight. If this worked for you initially, there’s little reason why it wouldn’t continue to do so as the narrative deepens and unfolds; if you weren’t immediately absorbed into the environment and tone, however, you’re likely in for a long 94 minutes.
Undertone isn’t wholly without bright spots for those who weren’t fully immersed in its atmosphere, as the sound design is genuinely exceptional. A24 is marketing the film as “the scariest movie you’ll ever hear,” and this isn’t a hyperbolic oversell; it’s an auditory nightmare, with both the substance of the recordings and their mixing producing consistent unease and serving as a pillar on which this film survives as it eeks towards its conclusion. Kiri’s performance is its other pillar, as her task was, on paper, gargantuan; isolated from others both physically and emotionally, Evy does not interact with another conscious on-screen person throughout the entire film, making her the sole focus of nearly every frame. Large portions of the movie’s tension derive not from dialogue or unsettling visuals, but from Kiri’s facial reactions—physical manifestations of her emotions that blossom as the recordings grow steadily discomforting. These scenes—in which we progressively see Evy reacting to what she’s hearing and subconsciously questioning everything she knows about herself on what may be a hastened descent into madness—are unequivocally the film’s most effective, and their efficacy can be attributed, in large part, to Kiri’s performance. To center a film around a single character who does not physically interact with any other conscious individuals throughout its duration is an inherently risky proposition that falls apart with anything less than an excellent lead performance; fortunately for Undertone, Kiri holds up her end of the bargain.
The writing is ultimately where Undertone falters, as too often does its narrative feel contrived and pacing artificial. What makes the podcast as popular a medium as it is today is its accessibility; anybody with a microphone and an idea can make one, and thus, there’s almost an assumed cursory knowledge with regard to their production. The way in which Evy and Justin produce their podcast—a paramount plot point that results in the bulk of this film’s scares—isn’t necessarily nonsensical, just convoluted; they record in 10-15 minute increments over the course of several days, a structure that, narratively, allows Evy to slowly realize the growing overlap between her life and the recordings, but practically, seems artificial and thwarts immersion. The explanation is that the characters are so deeply impacted by these particular recordings that they can’t bear to stomach more than a few in a single session, but given that they’re 90 episodes deep into a paranormal podcast, it seems a bit forced for them—particularly our skeptic Evy—to fall so quickly under the proverbial spell of one individual case. There are also plot points throughout the film that arise and are communicated in wholly unnatural—and at times, startlingly laughable—ways, to the point that one can’t help but be reminded that they’re watching a fabrication, a fiction. Is this perhaps a nitpicky critique? Sure, but when tension and atmospheric immersion are so crucial to what a particular film is attempting to accomplish, it’s discouraging to see said film actively impede on and dampen its environment, which is what Undertone often does with its narrative contrivances.
Undertone also attempts to juggle several themes—those of responsibility, guilt, isolation, motherhood, and religion, among others—but doesn’t necessarily make a cogent or novel point about any one in particular. Evy is our vehicle through which these ideas are explored, but despite Kiri’s best efforts, she’s not all that compelling a character. The viewer empathizes with her based on the scant information they’re given, but there’s just not enough presented to make her a fully developed character, a breathing individual acting of their own volition as opposed to a product of the plot. It’s not as though she’s inherently uninteresting, just underdeveloped given the film’s temporal resources, which is, holistically, perhaps the more frustrating offense.
And while Tuason is not wholly exonerated of blame for what is, at times, underwhelming writing, it’s not solely his fault, as he does explore the breadth of his premise—it just quickly runs out of steam. Though the product of several sensory motivators working in harmony, film is fundamentally a visual medium, and to prioritize audio when making a movie is a bold choice that certainly deserves commendation; this isn’t to say that the visual portion of film can be an afterthought, however, which it, in Undertone, too often is. There are, again, a few shots throughout that aid in the film’s atmosphere—wide-angle shots that pan around the house as to imply that something is there, dutch-angle shots to communicate Evy’s declining mental state, etc.—but they’re repetitive, and if the movie fails to grab you, they quickly grow tedious and uninteresting. Effective usage of negative space grows dull if it’s what the viewer is consistently meant to be looking at. Undertone perhaps would have made an excellent short film or audio drama, but as a 94-minute narrative feature, its substance doesn’t justify its runtime.
Tuason does show promise as a filmmaker, particularly in the climax in which the film’s auditory excellence coalesces with several of its then-alluded to ideas and genuinely interesting visuals to produce a rather memorable sequence; without delving into spoilers, this, too, is undermined by a rather rapid conclusion that will leave some satisfied and others underwhelmed. The director is already signed on to direct the next Paranormal Activity film for Paramount, so it will be interesting to see if he can build on the foundation he laid in Undertone in what is his first proper studio production.
It’s difficult to put a rating on Undertone, as perhaps more so than the average film, your opinion of it will hinge on your experience. If you immediately grow immersed in the film’s atmosphere and let it overcome you, there’s enough tension in the audio and visuals to produce for you a consistently spine-chilling and genuinely memorable experience; if it doesn’t grab you, however, its deficiencies quickly become glaring, its admittedly enthralling sound design not enough to effectively supplement what are generally rather insipid visuals and an, at times, eye-roll inducing story. Kiri’s performance and the film’s technical craft elevate what is ultimately an undercooked and contrived narrative, and while it’s certainly not without artistic merit, it’s more an interesting experiment in subverting filmic conventions than it is a genuinely remarkable final product.
