Bring Her Back Movie Review: Sally Hawkins delivers a masterclass in subtle, skin-crawling acting in this brilliant horror

Bring Her Back

‘Bring Her Back,’ directed by Danny Philippou and Michael Philippou, was released in theatres on 22nd August and stars Sally Hawkins, Billy Barratt, Sora Wong, Jonah Wren Phillips.

Comfort that conceals fear

In ‘Bring Her Back,’ the real horror doesn’t come from shadows or anything supernatural—it’s sitting right there at the family dinner table. Danny and Michael Philippou trade the jump scares of ‘Talk to Me’ for something slower, more unsettling, and often difficult to sit through. The fear here isn’t about sudden shocks but about watching love twist into control and care turn into possession. Most of the film plays out inside a house, and that confinement only makes everything feel tighter and heavier. By the end, you’re left with a kind of dread that doesn’t fade with the credits—a reminder of just how easily affection can blur into suffocation. It’s not the kind of horror that makes you scream, but the kind that lingers long after in silence.

A foster home with dark secrets

Andy (Billy Barratt) and his younger sister Piper (Sora Wong) lose their father and wind up living with Laura (Sally Hawkins), a foster mother who seems on paper to be a godsend—warm, attentive, and endlessly patient. For a while, you almost believe it. But things don’t add up. There’s Ollie (Jonah Wren Phillips), a withdrawn boy who’s technically part of the household but never seems to belong anywhere.

There are rules that shift without warning. And there’s the constant sense that Laura’s affection isn’t freely given but conditional, maybe even rehearsed. Andy tries to step into the role of protector, even when it’s clear he’s in way over his head. Piper’s partial blindness is folded into the tension, not in a cheap way but in the way it makes the audience more anxious about every move she makes. The setup is familiar—kids in a home that isn’t safe—but the way it unfolds is grimly patient. You feel trapped right along with them.

Atmosphere over shock value

The film is shot and scored in a way that constantly keeps you on edge. The film is designed to feel tense from the start. The camera often sits slightly off to the side, making you feel like you’re secretly watching, and scenes hold longer than expected, turning normal spaces into something suffocating.

Every sound is used to unsettle—footsteps where they shouldn’t be, a door shutting out of place, or someone breathing too close. Even daylight offers no comfort; it only washes the rooms pale and fragile. The heavy rain in the climax only adds to the tension. The Philippous rely on silence as much as sound, not to set up cheap scares but to stretch the unease. And when things finally snap, they don’t explode—they fracture in ways that feel inevitable. It’s a more assured piece of filmmaking than their debut, one that lets atmosphere do the heavy lifting.

Characters that leave a mark

Sally Hawkins doesn’t play Laura as a monster from the start. She’s gentle, even endearing at first, but something in her energy feels slightly off, like her kindness is a little too rehearsed. Hawkins leans on small gestures—the pause before she answers, the way she grips a hand for just a second too long—and it’s enough to make the skin crawl.

It’s the sort of performance that doesn’t scream “villain,” but it makes you wish you could back away from her all the same. Hawkins delivers a performance that could easily earn her an Oscar nod. Billy Barratt gives Andy a fragile toughness that fits a teenager forced to grow up fast, and Sora Wong makes Piper’s resilience believable without overplaying it. Jonah Wren Phillips, as Oliver, mostly lingers at the edge, but his silence works like a ghost in the house. The cast clicks together in a way that makes the whole thing more suffocating.

A whisper that cuts deep

The film doesn’t fully break away from horror clichés—the climax touches ground we’ve seen before—but that hardly matters because what lingers afterward is far more powerful. ‘Bring Her Back’ cares less about big payoffs and more about mood, showing how simple acts of care can twist into something dark when grief takes over.

It’s not built to please everyone; it’s the kind of horror you respect, even if you wouldn’t rush to watch it again. That’s not a flaw—it shows the Philippous are pushing themselves, choosing to unsettle rather than just entertain. And Hawkins, balancing warmth with menace, makes it all land. If ‘Talk to Me’ introduced the directors, ‘Bring Her Back’ proves they’re here for the long run.

Rating: 4/5