Most modern horror, I find, has a problem of overwriting into a corner, overexplaining the deal, the lore of what's happening, and that’s often to the detriment of the terror. We go through life convinced that we know everything, that when we realize we don't, it freaks us out. It’s kinda the core behind a good scare: the thrill in facing the unknown head-on, which Together repositions inside relationship woes to birth something sinewy, sweet, and entirely gnarly.

Tim and Milly have moved out of busy city life for the quiet pleasures of the countryside, ostensibly for Milly’s work but broadly on a futile fit to repair their romance. On a hiking trip to do just that, the two fall into a bizarre and supernatural transformation that will bring them closer, whether they like it or not. The Substance for lovers, if you will; codependency: extreme home makeover, I guess, but neither of these witty one-liners does a good job of encompassing just how calibrated Together is in bringing flesh and bone to heel. Michael Shanks’s first feature is one wicked spitfire of a horror film, and if its metaphors seem heavy-handed, it has the decency at least to deliver them in the nastiest package possible.

Shanks envisions personal drama as a canvas to make a mockery of human anatomy, Brie and Franco’s bodies debased to freakish combinations and contortions. It's a skillful melange of practical gore and VFX, most of which headed by Shanks himself, lurching forwards with a lot of underlying tension underpinning the atmosphere in the relatable anguish of a relationship on the rocks. I think it's a strong contender for horror of the year, if not for how warped it gets, then for what it can reflect on us. Whether you're forever single or frightfully coupled, the film doesn't miss a beat in examining our strain and cling, and—unlike fellow rom-horror OH, HI!—keeps the tonal balance taut and tight, bruising mauve to deep purple.

There's a slightly campy self-awareness to it, but never without the sincerity to match it and hit it hard to home. Tim and Milly feel real; it's important to the film that they do, so that their slow-going meld pulses with the pustules of the problems that they can't face. Grief, insecurity, waste, or the unbearable plight of being seen. Fusion in this begets fear, never really explained or understood for what it is (save for a demonic cult and a cathedral caved inside a hole, why not, natural staples for the genre) rather than what it represents for the two, with truly emphatic motions. That's to the disfigured, often messy beauty of the horror genre; it has this unique power of uncorking our worst anxieties and setting them ablaze in very entertaining, digestible ways. Together does so by confronting intimacy through a most literal obstacle, grizzled, grotesque, and surprisingly gentle by its end. Relationships are serious business; why shouldn't they be shown as the scariest thing to reconcile?

Share this article
The link has been copied!