Censor (2021)

The video nasty era in Britain is oft-mocked, especially in other countries where the idea of treating kids swapping violent VHS tapes on the playground like unregulated drug trade isn't seen in a great light. But hey, every country has its own population of crazies who blame everything bad that happens on things like video games, cell phones, homosexuality, or government mind control. Despite what the IMDb summary may tell you, none of this really has much to do with Censor, one of few films from 2021 that blew me away and represent something of a renaissance for psychological horror. Censor is a great deal more complicated and well thought out than that. The thematic connections are as obvious as you'd expect, and it almost feels like a House of the Devil or The Scary of Sixty-First in terms of faking you out into expecting one thing, but then delivering something totally different. But if you examine the film closely, you'll see that this is, after all, a film about censorship and the people that may be assigned such a task. It brings all the complicated social anxiety and moral panic and he-said-she-said back into the realm of the human psyche, where all that complicated bullshit springs from in the first place, and tells us that our need to censor actually comes from somewhere deeper than simple misplaced responsibility.

So yes, it's a little spoiler-y to say so, but this is indeed a true-blue psychological horror film. A character study that is grounded in the era of the video nasty but doesn't limit itself simply to rendering a verdict on the subject, it uses the visuals and imagery of the video nasty to create something truly inspired. A retro throwback that wallows in empty recreation of the look of old films this is not. Everything centers around our protagonist Enid, and she stands tall as one of the most fascinating heroines of any psychological horror film to date, which is already filled to bursting with such characters. Enid feels perfectly thought out, completely real, with ticks and body language that suggest so much about what's going on underneath. At first, she's a stereotypical British spinster, but her tight, composed exterior is picked apart slowly over the course of the film until she ends up in places you would never have expected based on the premise and opening scenes of the film.

The third act of the film pays off a relatively slow affair with some genuine shocks and one of the most chilling endings in modern horror history; something that almost felt like one of those creepy Adult Swim shorts that play at 2:45 in terms of its unfettered creativity and ability to unsettle. Reality and fiction collide in a spectacular fashion and a throwaway shot of a VHS cover halfway through the film comes to life before our very eyes at the very end. The detail in everything is incredible from the invented scenes from fake video nasties to their wonderful box art and taglines which really help sell the concept and the world the film takes place in, even once the story has moved far beyond simple referential film-nerd porn and into the realm of the human psyche in all its ugliness.

The color palette begins quite natural before slowly becoming quite striking with its mix of Bava-esque red and blues all over the place; even the clothing worn by characters onscreen becomes slowly more colorful and vibrant over time as opposed to the dull greys and creams of earlier scenes. The cinematography is wonderful and perfectly in tune with the other aesthetic elements. Intelligent editing decisions, like the aspect ratio trick, make it seem almost like lightning in a bottle. Music is very low-key and chilly in a way that works wonders with the disturbing atmosphere. The music track that plays over the ending is one that was also used in A Field in England, and it's used to even better effect here and helps sell the nightmarish ending. Niehm Algar is a revelation in the lead, and though that's not to say the rest of the cast didn't kill it, she gives such a wonderfully lived-in performance that it simply demands attention. Indeed, nothing is out of place, and it all works together to create something with unbelievable depth. I've seen the film about four times since my Vinegar Syndrome blu-ray arrived (which, coincidentally, may very well be the coolest blu-ray I own currently) and I really can't get enough. Censor is a gem, and it along with the equally brilliant Saint Maud, also from this year, signal something of a renaissance for the psyche horror film.