Malum (2023)

Score: 4.5 / 5

An unexpected remake of 2014's Last Shift, both co-written and directed by Anthony DiBlasi, Malum dropped last year with no fanfare and it took me some time to even learn it existed. I've been a vocal fan of Last Shift for a decade now, and it still shocks me how few people have seen it; as such, this will be a review for both films. They are remarkably similar, including their setting, plot, characters, and theming, but they divert in a few notable ways that will fascinate and delight genre fans. Fair warning: these are both suspenseful, violent and gory, and deeply unsettling horror films that aren't for the squeamish.

The premise is straightforward enough: a young woman named Jessica works her first shift as a rookie cop: the overnight watch at a decommissioned police station before it is permanently closed. Her father previously worked the same precinct until his death, a year prior, when members of a dangerous and violent cult were brought in and committed suicide. As she tries to settle in for the night, strange and frightening occurrences play with her perception of reality as she learns more about her father's history with the place, her own relationship with the male-dominated force, and the likelihood that the station is haunted. Both are fairly low-budget films but, under DiBlasi's masterful leadership, pack a gritty determination to scare the pants off you with earned fear. 

Last Shift surely had the smaller budget of the two films, providing it a gritty urgency and raw terror hard to shake. Lit mostly by aggressive fluorescent lights, flattening and almost blinding some of the tracking shots through white-tiled halls, it sometimes gives the impression of an uncommonly confident student film. Long takes in which the camera hovers over Jessica's shoulder give the impression of a survivalist horror video game, one that uncharacteristically allows her the option to fire her gun at will. Hypnotic cinematography isn't just a fun aesthetic here, though: it directly stems from and then informs the plot and our understanding of the protagonist. Much like in Mike Flanagan's Oculus, nothing in this film is as it seems or to be taken at face value. Nothing. 

Malum as a remake works mostly the same way. Taken on its own, it clearly has a larger budget for gory effects and more dynamic lighting. Its editing (also by DiBlasi in both films) is choppier; though occasionally off-putting to me, because I like long takes in films with isolated settings, it ratchets up psychological tension through increased manipulation of our perception of what's happening to Jessica. We're even less sure we can trust what we see when it's so clearly being cut in crucial moments. By blurring this clarity of sight, we feel more hopeless and less certain of reality, much like Jessica herself. This film also stretches certain sections to, arguably, increase the emotional trials Jessica has to endure, as it directly dramatizes her relationship with her father, his monstrous crime, and his untimely death. This makes the film a bit more standard in terms of the genre, but it also plays out less like a carnival haunted house or thrill ride due to our emotional investment.

Malum as a reimagining, however, pushes beyond the scope of the original film so much as to radically change the final act and metafictionally insert itself into the last six or so years of the genre. SPOILER ALERT: the Manson-esque cult that had been brought in a year prior worshipped a demon and shed blood to increase its power. Jessica's father saved three young women in the raid on their compound but failed to save a fourth, making his guilt unbearable and leading to his slaughter of several other cops and himself. Jessica's endurance of the haunt reveals that the cult is likely still alive and well, determined to complete their ritual of blood sacrifice as the city outside the station erupts into violent chaos and the cult's ghosts (and a few invading members) assault Jessica to provoke her violent reactions.

It's an artistically and creatively satisfying concept. Not only to have imagined and realized a single-setting thriller with a horrifying mystery slowly explored over a brisk 90-ish-minute runtime, and to have crafted it with extraordinary filmmaking skill and flair, but to have revisited and reimagined it almost a decade later as essentially the same thing but with updated technique and delving into variables before letting them organically conclude themselves. The first is much more psychologically devastating, its horror focused on the individual woman against her sexist surroundings while attempting to fend for herself and clearly perceive an indefinable threat. The second launches straight into religious horror, going so far as to literalize the ghosts and physicalize the demon itself in one of the most jaw-dropping reveals I've experienced in a film like this.

What else is there to say? So many clues and red herrings (well, are they really herrings?) pile up that the film is less a roller coaster than a slide, constantly building its own tension in increasingly unhinged and violent set pieces. Both films do this, actually. Earned, effective jump scares abound, and the acting from every featured person is pitched to unsettle Jessica and the audience. Your mileage for the final act -- in either film -- will vary based on what interests you more: the dissolution of Jessica's mind or her desperation to prevail over the invading forces of evil. The former feels like Oculus or Amulet whereas the latter hints at something like Hereditary or mother! in effect. Neither is "better" and both are more than worthy of a watch. I'll resort to double featuring these every damn time: one is a threadbare nightmare with acoustic score and straightforward storytelling tricks, the other is a giallo-like maximalist descent to hell with droning synth score and gory excesses. The most amazing part is that both films work so well, even as companion pieces. Especially if you like unexpectedly and astonishingly brilliant cinematography.