Bryce Hirschberg would probably be well off just being an actor. He has an easy charm, looks good on camera, and holds it with his emotions too. But Hirsch is more ambitious than that. That’s why he not only acts in his films but also writes and directs them. In his latest, entitled JACKALOPE, he even handles the sound design. If he also manages the catering, I’m sure his crew is well fed. You can tell he loves movies and all the various parts it takes to make a good one, and in his latest, a horror film, he finds ways to showcase his affection for the genre while subverting many of its tired tropes and clichés.
Right off the bat, Hirschberg plays with our expectations by placing us in the car on a bright, sunny day and introducing us to two thirtysomething brothers named Aidan and Conor. It doesn’t seem disturbing at first, but their banter is a bit stilted, with awkward pauses, and an edgy sound design slowly creeps into the soundtrack as the bros struggle to connect. Something happened in the past, and yet neither bro can talk about it. The hesitations and discomfort build until something truly disturbing occurs: they discover a stray dog standing smack dab in the middle of the road.
Aidan (Hirschberg), the easygoing older brother who’s driving, sees nothing wrong with picking up the homeless animal and quickly adopting it as their pet. He even dubs him “Handsome” after he calls him a “handsome boy.” Conor (Alex Mandel), on the other hand, isn’t so sure it’s the best idea, but then he isn’t sure that this getaway to their old family home in the middle of nowhere is the best weekend plan either. The house now seems a bit foreign, as it’s been converted into an Airbnb, and despite Aidan’s assurances that the nostalgia, woods, and fresh mountain air will help his angsty brother get over his divorce, Conor gives him little reason to believe so. Still, Aidan is a glass-half-full sort and cajoles Conor into giving things a chance.
Now, most filmmakers who introduce a stray hound in a horror movie do so to add a sinister element to the mix, but not Hirschberg. It’s the first sign that the filmmaker has other things on his mind, because the dog is a good pet and not some sort of hellhound that will usurp the weekend. No, that character is a woman, a stranger who enters the mix and will turn the brother’s world topsy-turvy. Lilly (Catherine Corcoran) is a model who’s booked the Airbnb for the weekend, unbeknownst to the siblings, and she seems easygoing enough to seem harmless. Aiden even suggests they share the night’s setting, a clear nod to the movie BARBARIAN. Aiden even thinks having such a beauty around might help Conor get out of his depression.
Hirschberg does something clever when he introduces Lilly as well by not showing her face for a minute or so. That way, despite her charm and conversation, the scene is unsettling. It creates some mystery and encourages the audience to start questioning more and more of what is being presented. It’s Hirschberg’s Hitchcockian way of having fun with us in the audience, and cajoling us to get a smidge ahead of his characters onscreen.
To tell much more of the plot beyond this point would spoil too much of the dread and suspense. Suffice it to say, not everyone in the house is all that they pretend to be, and soon enough, a fun night of booze, hot tubs, and banter will take a turn for the worse. Eventually, the woods will reveal themselves as a very dangerous place, loyalties will be tested, and the easygoing smile Aidan presents to the world will be wiped from his overly assured face.
And as the horrors ratchet up, Hirschberg delivers the frights without things ever landing in a predictable way. Much of the violence occurs off-screen, dread hangs over every scene but not necessarily death, and much of what was teased in random cutaways early in the film comes back with detailed explanations, albeit not the kind we were expecting at all. And still, shockingly but effectively, most of the scares occur while the sunny countryside setting continues to dominate the story.
Mandel may be playing a bit of a noodge, but he never becomes an obnoxious sloth. Corcoran keeps her character enigmatic and full of surprises, even when blood starts flowing. And Hirschberg keeps Aidan’s blitheness sweet, never an idiot “asking for it.” Instead, what happens in 24 hours would probably never occur to Aidan, and frankly, probably never to us watching. Hirschberg ensures the jump scares feel earned, the twists make sense, and the characters’ actions never lose our empathy. Evil is at play here, but it’s smarter, slyer, and subtler than in most horror films. The three main characters all are hiding truths, and when they come out, we understand why the brothers can’t connect, why Lilly showed up when she did, and why Handsome is as much a symbol as a character.
Granted, some scenes could stand a bit of editing, and Hirschberg’s script may present a few ideas that aren’t wholly necessary to the story. But overall, this is remarkably assured filmmaking for only a second feature as a director. Hirschberg knows how to place the camera, direct performances, and choreograph them. He even introduces a couple of terrific, shocking special effects in the last act. And the director never lets us forget that perhaps the scariest parts of life are those lies we tell ourselves, and how willing we are to bury all kinds of pain until it starts to overwhelm us.
JACKALOPE is as ambitious as Hirschberg is and can rightfully take its place as another strong entry in a banner year for horror at the Cineplex. It’s hitting festivals now, but I encourage you to keep an eye out for it at a theater near you. And don’t be surprised if you hear a lot about Hirschberg in the coming years.
