We all die in the dark. Such is the chilling, multilayered tagline to The Outwaters (2023); an intensely scary, disorienting, and engulfing incubus that submerges an unsuspecting viewer into the immeasurable abyss in a fiery, hellish manner that hasn’t been experienced in quite some time. So, let’s get into it.
Even though it’s reached an undeserved amount of vitriol over the years, there’s still something noteworthy about the sub-genre of “found footage” horror that irrevocably shakes, stirs, rattles, and rocks the core of your eyes and soul. Despite the ebb of contemporary or linear structure, framing, and pacing, there’s an unflinching, in-your-face visceral execution that brings the unfathomable as close to you as humanly possible. Plus it allows filmmakers to test their ingenuity in the process of crafting these features. Especially on minimalist production budgets. There’s even a certain unforeseen and unwritten leeway that exists for them to effectively do so without being tied down by conventional methods and formulas. They’re allowed the figurative or metaphorical space to tell a story through imagery and defined scope, shirking script and dialogue placement for commentary and perspective. Should they choose to do so. It’s tough to deny the sub-genre possesses an unmitigated power that, when done correctly, can morph innovative concepts of horror into something that restlessly lingers within a psyche. Which is palpable in this modern age of instant yet fleeting gratification.
Which means that director, writer, producer, cinematographer, editor, and actor Robbie Banfitch emphatically knocked it out of the park with this debut.
In the same token, lovecraftian or “cosmic” horror as it’s referred to is an entirely different bag altogether. This sub-genre often deals with all stages of the orbital and otherworldly unknown. The relentlessly grotesque and even gorgeous mysteries etched into the fabric of existence, time, dimensions, and humanity’s displacement within all of it. At its helm, the anxieties, isolation, and inconsequential nature of perception is merely a foregone conclusion of opening the door towards the aforementioned unknown, and what ultimately resides inside, waiting to be unleashed. If it isn’t there already, infecting everything around it. A result that varies in mutilation, transmutation and even rebirth, which intertwines, twisting the world (and people) into unnatural and brain-melting forms. While this particular horror is based on the iconic writings of H.P. Lovecraft, many other creators over the decades have taken the building blocks of his timeless work and absorbed them into many elements, tropes, and even monstrosities in the horror genre.
And in that regard, Banfitch takes these two sub-genres, and crafts his own perilous journey into the seething unknown with this feature, showcasing not only the heights found footage can still reach in the process but garnering such an inspired product that it can stand next to other conceptual hybrids that drew from the same influences. Works like Event Horizon (1997), The Void (2016), Wounds (2019), Color Out of Space (2019), The Lighthouse (2019), Underwater (2020), or even In the Mouth of Madness (1994). Just to name a few.
As the story goes, four friends decide to trek to the mojave desert to camp out and shoot a music video. Upon their arrival the group starts to notice eerie happenings in the area that can’t be explained. Once night falls, they are woken up to the sound of multiple booms in the sky. Writing the noises off as thunder, the foursome stays to continue their work, only to regret that huge mistake as all hell breaks loose. One long walk into the desert ensues.
Right off the bat, after one of the most disturbing introduction scenes ever put together, Banfitch starts to lay the foundation of the story by introducing our characters and settling into the style of footage we’re witnessing. Even as a slow burn that becomes rather tedious after awhile, there’s nevertheless an uneasy tension at play that starts to take shape. As our group makes there way to the desert, the tonal tranquility and scenic sights involved was a nice touch, but we know it’s a calm before the inevitable storm. And an earth-shattering storm it is, as when the hammer drops, it drops HARD, and our group enter an unending nightmare of darkness, sound, mind, fury, and insanity.
For a good chunk of the middle section of the film, it’s played out IN said darkness that’s thick and dense, with the only illumination being a small light on a videocamera. What the light captures within its radius is both revealing and hidden, as Banfitch gives us just enough visual breadcrumbs to spook and terrify, allowing the power of suggestion to take hold over the rest. We also hear everything around us, that suggestive intent running rampant in our minds. This is definitely some of the best sound designs ever put to film.
And then, just as we’re getting used to what’s in front of us, and start to examine it, multiple twists and turns rock the entire crucible, revealing a bit more of what is truly going on (as well as our theories and interpretation of it). Forget natural narrative progression, because that isn’t Banfitch’s primary goal. Instead he’s poised to construct an unpredictable, debatable atmosphere that consistently, frantically confuses and disorients. One that dives into sensory overload and deconstruction. And unapologetically revels in it. It’s clear what type of experience he wanted to craft, utilizing each horror element to its fullest. It’s ambitiously chaotic with unexplained purpose, cascading dread, and even unexpected beauty.
Unfortunately, this film isn’t without its flaws, as there definitely needed to be some fine tuning on its runtime. The tedium becomes apparent especially in the first acts, so there needed to be some cuts here and there. Also a viewer has to have a strong amount of patience on display as there’s little expositions or straight paths in the meaty part of the descent. Many who want their horror to be more clear cut and leveled will no doubt become frustrated over this presentation. Which is certainly understandable. Some films are rather experimental and wave bye-bye to easy answers or normal composition. And some films are, in fact, an acquired taste.
Yet at the end of the day, this found-footage feature’s near bottomless exploration into the massively complex and ponderous dark, (whether you’re prepared or not), is something demonically special. A blood-curdling, spine-tingling opus to those looking for something distinct in their horror, locking in and never letting go even after its incredibly wince-inducing and somber final scene. Robbie Banfitch has masterfully built a symphony of enigmatically cosmic terror, abandoned in the abyss it not only calls home, but permeates with contemptible aggression and transmogrifying abundance. Easily a contender as one of the best horror films of the year.
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Review by Marcus Wilturner
The Super Network 