A group Skype session is invaded by an angry spirit in Unfriended, a clever and timely horror
film. It’s set on the one-year anniversary of a high school cyberbullying
victim’s suicide. The dead girl’s friends happen to be Skyping with each other
this night, talking about typical teen topics – relationships, mind-altering
substances, parties, and sex. But a mystery person – a blank profile picture
lurking in the corner – has joined their chat. They can’t hang up on it. They
can’t click on it. They disconnect and call back. It’s still there, presumably
watching and listening. And then the mystery Skyper starts typing threatening
clairvoyant messages. Soon the teens are glued to their screens, trying to
figure out what’s gone wrong online, as even worse fates befall them in the
real world.
The movie is shot entirely through a computer display, the whole
frame one character’s laptop screen. Performers are isolated in their own chat
boxes, as layers of windows and tabs provide plot information, the roaming cursor
drawing our attention to different areas. This all-on-a-computer idea has been
done before (a few indies, some short films, and an episode of Modern Family), but never to such
sustained and suspenseful effect. On a plot level, it’s a simple cyber-slasher,
what Ebert would call a Dead Teenager Movie. But director Leo Gabriadze and
screenwriter Nelson Greaves turn conventional story elements unsettling through
modern communications, digging into essential unease with their central
gimmick.
We’re locked in on a static shot, with shaking found footage
contained in steady windows, shifting frames within frames. The laptop belongs
to Blaire (Shelley Henning), who was best friends with the dead girl. By
placing the audience between this character and her screen, you have an
uncomfortably close view of the action. It feels like an intrusion. We meet her
chatting with her boyfriend (Moses Jacob Storm) in a playful mood, planning
prom night activities. Their friends (Will Peltz, Renee Olstead, Jacob Wysocki,
and Courtney Halverson) join in, a standard white teen horror collection of
pretty blondes, snarky hunks, and one sloppy dope. But then there’s that
mysterious other, menacing messages and all. It’s threatening to reveal
secrets, cause emotional and physical harm.
Exposition and dialogue extends to iMessages, Facebook,
YouTube, and urban legend forums (Spotify provides the soundtrack) as the
teens try to figure out the identity of their intruder and are forced to
admit they’re not on the line with a prankster or hacker, but a ghost. This ghost
isn’t playing around, either, quickly proving deadly intent by – what else? –
flickering lights and knocking on doors. Then it leads them to their dooms in
flashes of sudden violence. The film gets a constant unsettling mood and some
good scares out of malfunctioning keystrokes, disappearing buttons, and
recurring pinwheels. Creepiest are ethereal pixelations of video chatting,
where sound slips out of sync and faces freeze, dissolve, or cut to black. The
context makes these everyday frustrations suspenseful.
The group of thinly characterized teens is picked off one by
one by a malevolent manifestation of adolescent fears and foibles. That’s hardly
new genre ground to cover. But the technology enlivens it, making a slick and
scary claustrophobic parable of modern day web life. In the news and on our
social media feeds we hear about trolls, hackers, death threats, blackmail,
bullying, and worse. By now we should be well aware of that which makes the web
a vulnerable place. It is a space at once private and public, exciting and
terrifying in the way those distinctions collapse.
Unfriended
unsettles by showing us the laptop screen as an intimate space violated. In
something as simple as bookmarks on a browser (like Jezebel and Forever 21) you can find character detail and a sense
of invasion of privacy. The audience is as much a voyeur as the faceless
spirit, watching these teens’ private place pulled into public consumption.
It’s the lack of control technology allows. They haven’t a clue how this
mystery being has access to data they thought was secret. How is that any
different than the security concerns and surveillance worries we see reported
every day? The row of chat windows on the screen is scary and full of dread because
we can see it and because of what we see happen on it. The filmmakers
manipulate visual space to recreate standard horror situations in smart new
ways. One character hears a knocking outside and wants to go check. “Don’t go
out there!” the others shout from their boxes, able only to watch with us as
the horror reveals itself.
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