With a screenplay rich in social horror and adolescent psychology, you may think Slapface would trip over its complexity. But surprisingly, it doesn’t. Kipp ties together multiple thematic strands to create a compelling and haunting mix of drama and horror.
If A Monster Calls (2016) showed the healing power of an invisible monster in the life of an angry, lost young boy, Jeremiah Kipp’s complex and harrowing Slapface shows its dangers. Based on his 2018 short film of the same name, Kipp’s feature-length movie builds on the themes of childhood trauma, folk horror, and emotional turmoil from his short, asking what happens when fantasy replaces reality in the life of a troubled young teenager.
Slapface opens with two brothers sitting alone in a rundown house: Tom (Mike Manning), the older, sits opposite Lucas (August Maturo), and nothing but silence surrounds them. Tom then asks if Lucas is ready to proceed. Lucas nods, and Tom slaps his face. Lucas then returns the slap, and the cycle continues, with each strike harder than the last. This brotherly ritual is called slapface, a physical manifestation of internal emotional pain. But why does this closed and secretive ritual exist?
Lucas and Tom are alone, and their brotherly bond is all that holds their lives together following the death of their parents. But this bond is fractured, problematic and rooted in repressed anger and grief. Tom spends his days working as a labourer and drinking, picking up women in local bars, while Lucas wanders through the woods, trying to forge friendships. Lucas’s only real friend is Moriah (Mirabelle Lee), but she is also friends with two local twins who taunt and bully Lucas at every opportunity, ridiculing him and isolating him at every turn.
Seeking escape and comfort, Lucas becomes obsessed with the legend of a Witch said to haunt an abandoned building, and, following a dare, he discovers the rag-covered Witch is indeed real. But as the link between the Witch and Lucas grows, the divide between reality and the supernatural becomes ever more tenuous as the Witch enacts Lucas’s most profound and darkest desires while the boy silently screams for escape.
Kipp’s film maintains a purposeful distance from Lucas and his brother’s past, providing the audience with small but significant clues; for example, Tom’s drinking clearly reflects the influence of their late father. From the outset, it is clear that this is a damaged and fractured family unit rooted in unspoken pain, whose roots are still raw and sensitive to the touch. However, Kipp offers us a glimmer of light when Tom brings home a new girlfriend, Anna (Libe Barer). Here, the house’s stifled emotions are suddenly lifted by a woman who sees the pain and hurt in both boys. However, Anna is held captive by Tom’s inability to accept the problems at the heart of his relationship with Lucas.
With a screenplay rich in social horror and adolescent psychology, you may think Slapface would trip over its complexity. But surprisingly, it doesn’t. Kipp ties together multiple thematic strands to create a compelling and haunting mix of drama and horror. Kipp is unafraid to tackle themes of abuse, isolation and anger, ensuring Slapface transcends simple genre boundaries. The result is an outstanding social horror that explores the damage of unresolved trauma, isolation and bullying in adolescent development.
Follow Us