Martyrs Lane is a gripping new horror film that captivates and mystifies consistently. Atmospheric, puzzling, and ultimately tragic, there is a delicacy to its craft and themes that make it as ominous as it is thought provoking. It is another addition to the ever growing line-up of impressive contemporary horrors from emerging female filmmakers.
Leah (Kiera Thompson) is a 10-year-old girl suffering from loneliness and a sense of rejection. Her mother Sarah (Denise Gough) is severely strict and distant; her father Thomas (Steven Cree) is an overworked vicar for the local church, and her sister Bex (Hannah Rae) can go from protective of to bullying Leah within moments of each other. Add in an old, big house at the edge of the woods, and you can see why Leah is feeling so glum.
Yet Leah becomes entranced with a locket her mother keeps – a locket containing a lock of hair. When Leah loses it by accident, she is visited by a young girl (Sienna Sayer) who wants to play games and offer suggestions as to where she left the hair. The mystery of this child, and the contents of Sarah’s locket, become intertwined, culminating in a horrible revelation.
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Written and directed by Ruth Platt, Martyrs Lane has drawn comparisons to Jennifer Kent’s excellent 2014 horror film The Babadook. They are not unfounded. Both films are based on short films conceived by their respective filmmakers. Furthermore, both films tackle the common horror theme of grief through parent child dynamics. If The Babadook is about grief through the eyes of the parent then Martyrs Lane is about grief through the eyes of the child.
The youthful perspective that informs the film’s narrative makes the symbolism, scares and themes of Martyrs Lane even stronger. It is easy to forget how scary it is to be a child, especially when those around you seem to neglect or berate you for one reason or another. It might explain the otherwise simple characterisations that make up Leah’s family, as their worst qualities can be emphasised from a child’s viewpoint.
Regardless, there’s still plenty to admire, least of all the stunning performances from the cast, particularly from Gough as Sarah, and young Thompson and Sayer as Leah and the mysterious child respectively. These are among two of the best performances from young people I have seen all year. Able to juggle playfulness, despair, anger and everything in between with the skill of people twice their age.
Platt’s direction and the encompassing craftsmanship only further fuel the film’s eerie atmosphere and sensations of suspense. The music and sound design are precise and chilling. And the murky lighting adds a gothic feel to the immersive set design and cinematography. Even the costumes on Thompson add a grizzly element that only grows as we discover more about her character’s purpose and origins. They make for dark visuals and interesting religious parallels that add dimensions to what Platt is exploring and showcasing through her film.
Love is the most predominant theme I believe Platt is examining, one that is interlinked with the aforementioned theme of grief. One of the best scenes involves Leah’s father explaining to her that, to him, hell is not a nightmarish place of fire and brimstone, but rather a never-ending darkness devoid of love. This imagery informs both the look and feel of the film.
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This is ultimately a story of acceptance between mother and child, where Leah must find her self-worth and Sarah must reconcile with the past so that they can be better for each other. It’s a touching narrative that reveals itself after navigating the storm of terror and chilliness that permeates the rest of the film. What it amounts to is a film that rocks the core and engages the mind through its inventive atmosphere and powerful storytelling.
The film does occasionally fall into states of insecurity, notably towards the end where it spells out what the ultimate revelation is to the audience through dialogue when we, or at least I, had already pieced it together through visuals, and the impact was strong enough as it was. Nevertheless, this is another strong feature from Platt, who deftly explores classical themes within the horror genre to share messages of family and how to conquer shared trauma. I’m eagerly looking forward to what she gives us next.
