Unwelcome | Little White Lies

Unwel­come

24 Jan 2023 / Released: 27 Jan 2023

Words by Anton Bitel

Directed by Jon Wright

Starring Colm Meaney, Douglas Booth, and Hannah John-Kamen

A man and woman in a dimly lit room, the woman appears to be embracing the man.
A man and woman in a dimly lit room, the woman appears to be embracing the man.
3

Anticipation.

Liked Wright's last film, Grabbers.

3

Enjoyment.

More serious and psychological than its predecessor.

4

In Retrospect.

The mother of Irish folk horror.

A young cou­ple reel­ing from a vio­lent attack play host to strange house guests in Jon Wright’s Irish horror.

When Maya (Han­nah John-Kamen) learns that she is preg­nant, her hus­band Jamie (Dou­glas Booth) pur­chas­es a cel­e­bra­to­ry bot­tle of alco­hol-free Pros­ec­co from the cor­ner store, unwit­ting­ly pick­ing up a trio of vio­lent thugs who fol­low him back home and break into the couple’s Lon­don apart­ment. Over­whelmed and vicious­ly beat­en, Jamie is left to watch help­less­ly as Maya is also attacked and fails to take an oppor­tu­ni­ty to stab the gang’s taunt­ing ring­leader. Only the arrival of the police saves them. Cut to a lit­tle under nine months lat­er, and the cou­ple, still rat­tled by this har­row­ing event, moves to the idyl­lic Irish coun­try­side, where Jamie has inher­it­ed a house from his recent­ly depart­ed Aunt Maeve.

Like its new own­ers, the house is in a state of dis­re­pair, but there is hope here for build­ing a bet­ter future. The local pub’s land­la­dy (Niamh Cusack) warns that an offer­ing of meat must be left in their back gar­den every night to keep at bay the far dar­rigmyth­i­cal lit­tle peo­ple in red caps. Yet Jamie and Maya are soon more pre­oc­cu­pied by the dys­func­tion­al fam­i­ly – Dad­dy Whe­lan (Colm Meany) and his adult chil­dren Kil­lian (Chris Wal­ley), Ais­ling (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell) and Eoin (Kris­t­ian Nairn) – whom they have hired to fix up the house, and whose bul­ly­ing delin­quen­cy will quick­ly prove a trig­ger for the trau­ma of both raw Maya and angry, emas­cu­lat­ed Jamie.

Any­one who has seen direc­tor Jon Wright’s pre­vi­ous boozy crea­ture com­e­dy Grab­bers might expect Unwel­come to resem­ble the mad­cap chaos of Grem­lins or Ghoulies, but while there is a bit of that, the tone is more sober. For here, like in David Bruckner’s The Rit­u­al, a trau­mat­ic urban scene is replayed and reprocessed in a wilder set­ting. As one home inva­sion in inner city Lon­don is fol­lowed by anoth­er in back­woods Ire­land, in this bloody reprise of all past anx­i­eties, the now heav­i­ly preg­nant Maya is test­ed as to just how far she has ges­tat­ed into a mam­ma bear’.

Much as Aunt Maeve’s house and gar­den are sep­a­rat­ed from the wild woods by a stone wall, the psy­cho­log­i­cal and the super­nat­ur­al sim­i­lar­ly abut one anoth­er as two sides of the same divide. Though pre­sent­ed as mur­der­ous mis­chief mak­ers, the gob­lin-like Red Caps are also vivid metaphors for the trau­ma which suf­fer­ers can nego­ti­ate only at a cost­ly price. If this is a tale of two fam­i­lies, one civilised, the oth­er fer­al, the far dar­rig bridge the dif­fer­ence between these two clans with their own grotesque par­o­dy of a fam­i­ly. For not unlike the Whe­lans, these tiny, child-like crea­tures are defined in their sav­agery by the absence of a moth­er to nur­ture them – and Maya will step in to fill that gap with her own immense capac­i­ty for both lov­ing and fero­cious protectiveness.

So Unwel­come unfolds in the fairy­land where Straw Dogs and Wrong Turn meet Irish folk hor­ror, as an Eng­lish woman comes to realise the sac­ri­fices that it takes to become a true Irish mammy.

Lit­tle White Lies is com­mit­ted to cham­pi­oning great movies and the tal­ent­ed peo­ple who make them.

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