Mark Reviews Movies: RESURRECTION (2022)

Resurrection, IFC Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | July 28, 2022

Margaret (Rebecca Hall) has everything under control. She's a star at her office, where everyone listens to her pitches and at least one intern admires her enough to ask for personal advice. She's an attentive, caring, and protective mother to a teenage daughter, who's soon to go to college—so the parenting clearly has been successful in some way. Margaret does it all on her own, too, as a single woman and parent. When it comes to men, she doesn't need one, but if she wants one, that's on her terms, as well.

All of this is important to note in the early section of Resurrection, writer/director Andrew Semans' eerie study of how damaging control can be and how easily it can be relinquished. Here, our protagonist is both in complete control of her life and aware of how to keep her sense of control in orderly balance. When someone who once held complete sway over her returns into her life, though, Margaret's life and power begin to spiral, and we don't just witness how she loses the control she had. We also see what was beneath her need to have everything about her life in such a precise order.

We'll eventually get to that other character, whose existence is such a terrifying prospect that Semans' film almost instantly becomes a horror story. First, though, there is Margaret and her seemingly ordinary but perfect life. The specifics of her job are unnecessary (It has something to do with pharmaceuticals, and she's an executive of some kind), but it's important to note her success there and the influence she has over others.

There's that intern (played by Angela Wong Carbone), who's vital to our introduction to Margaret. The young woman is having relationship issues with a boyfriend who won't stop mocking her, and Margaret's advice is right to the point: If he won't listen, he doesn't care, and if he doesn't care, it's best to just dump him. She's right, of course, and of course, Margaret must know that all too well, since she's raising Abbie (Grace Kaufman), her college-bound daughter, on her own and having a secret affair with Peter (Michael Esper), the married co-worker whom she kicks out of bed if he's not up for another round.

Hall shows such precision in her performance here, and that goes a long way to reflecting just how precise Margaret is in every aspect of her appearance, her manner, the way she speaks, and her life in general. The straightforward and to-the-point way she communicates is one thing, but Hall also imbues Margaret with a tight, focused physicality (It's most apparent, perhaps, in her morning runs—arms sharply angled and swinging in perfect rhythm). Hall embodies a sense of order in everything about this performance, and that only makes its gradual collapse all the more recognizable and troubling.

The source of that eventual fall is David, whom Margaret spots at a work conference and then at a store while shopping with Abbie and then on a bench in the park outside her office building. That's when she finally confronts this man, whom she knows and warns to leave her and Abbie alone, only for him to say that he doesn't know her at all.

David is played by Tim Roth in a performance that's like a reflection of Hall's, except his control seems to be entirely internalized and disarmingly calm. His voice is soft when he finally reveals that he knows Margaret and, yes, even her daughter's name—not by accident, of course, because there are no accidents for people with this much power over themselves. The smile he displays, because it is a show, after her warnings and implicit threats is particularly haunting—and not just because this is the wrong context for such a look. There's the matter of what's missing from that smile, which Margaret recognizes from an odd discovery in Abbie's wallet. It's impressive how much tension Semans creates from a simple detail of an implied, albeit unthinkably extreme, act.

In a certain way, that's the filmmaker's general approach to this material. It deals with a dreadful history—and the ongoing effects—of psychological and physical abuse, as well as a twisted game of Margaret and David battling for power (She knows she can only try to control herself and can't control him, which gives him a terrifying advantage).

To an extent, this is a thriller, in that Margaret is trying to defend herself and Abbie from an external threat. It's only one as much as is necessary to pit Margaret and David against each other, while throwing Margaret's life out of balance. The real point, beyond how tranquilly frightening and domineering David actually is, is watching as all of this transforms Margaret's need for control into a detriment for herself and her relationship with the daughter. It's a showcase for Hall and Roth, too, who spar from opposite ends of a personality spectrum, while skillfully communicating their respective character's drives.

At the center of it all is a long-held secret, which won't be revealed here (Hall discloses it in a monologue that's a single take of a close-up, and it's an incredible moment of the character trying to hold together her external appearance under internal torment). The secret is equally horrifying and, at least in David's telling of it, ludicrous, but the absurdity of the man's statements and conviction only add to the larger terror of how much he can do to Margaret.

The climax of Resurrection takes the whole thing to a demented punch line. It's daring, disturbing, and weird, to be sure, but it's also the logical end of a specific absurdity—and, in a way, the absurdity of thinking one can control anything or anyone in this life.

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