Attachment is familiar, and that is part of what makes it a solid film experience. It pays homage to multiple films in the horror genre, such as The Exorcist (1973), for example. But those nods are subtle and make sense to the story. Gabriel Bier Gislason shows excellent restraint for his first time at the helm of a feature film.
Starting with a very charming meet-cute, we follow our romantic leads, Leah (Ellie Kendrick) and Maja (Josephine Park), as they literally bump into each other, treating us to the traditional beginnings of a rom-com. It is reminiscent of the beginning of Takashi Miike Audition (1999). A syrupy sweet start that can turn sickly at any moment.
During the rapidly growing love between Leah and Maja there are slight red flags, hints of an overbearing mother, Chana (Sofie Gråbøl), that Leah is trying to ignore, and jarringly awkward and unexplained behaviour in the night. To the audience, these moments seem big enough to end this bud of a relationship, but it is still easy enough to believe that a new lover could be so blinded as to overlook them, which is a nice touch.
The exposition is also light-handed. We learn Leah has been far from home for an extended period, and that she is headed back to England by way of Denmark. Through their courtship we learn they share Danish ancestry, and Leah is also Jewish. Maja and Leah’s growing attachment seems as obvious as the title indicates, but there are several significant attachments portrayed throughout the film that have meaning whether on the surface or mingling underneath.
An unapologetically mixed-culture, lesbian love story — in the heart of a thriving Orthodox Jewish community, where there is a sense of rigid devotion, isolation and mystery — Attachment’s narrative implies that it’s headed toward a homophobic conflict. Instead, it is a shared love, and similarities of the people involved regardless of culture, that is a power against a threat rooted in demonic disturbance, witchcraft, superstition, and mythology, that could hurt those both in and outside the religion.
In addition to a compelling and touching script, Attachment’s aesthetics are noticeably pleasing to the eye — from Maja’s sparse Danish apartment to the gothic quality of Leah’s London flat, comparable to the Bramford building in Rosemary’s Baby (1968), and the vibrant earth tones throughout, with touches of red. The makeup on the ailing Leah is unsettling, but simple, and the use of scary sounds and reoccurring frights is sparse. The music is ominous yet romantic and used thoughtfully throughout.
In fact, thoughtful is the watchword when it comes to this picture. Attachment’s themes of trauma, grief, family and love open it up for wider audience appreciation, regardless of its genre trappings. Gabriel Bier Gislason should be very proud of his bold, sophisticated, and creepy freshman outing.
Watch it with your full attention on Shudder now.
