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Every January around the 22nd or so, thousands upon thousands of pro-life advocates travel to our nation’s capital for the March for Life, an annual rally against legalized abortion. They brave the cold, the potential scorn and mockery of the locals, and the possibility of snow or rain to witness to the value of human life and fight for the smallest and most vulnerable among us. It’s a great event every American Catholic would do well to attend at least once, and in the spirit of this important gathering, I want to provide a reflection on one of the most unexpectedly pro-life films I’ve ever seen: The Girl with All the Gifts.
The Girl with All the Gifts is a British zombie movie from 2016, but it’s not just a mindless exercise in gratuitous gore. The film uses its horrific story to highlight the infinite value of human life, and it approaches that topic from a unique angle. It’s the zombies themselves, not the humans trying to survive, who embody this theme, so let’s take a deep dive into this amazing movie and see just how it supports the pro-life cause. The Basic Plot of The Girl with All the Gifts Like most zombie movies, The Girl with All the Gifts takes place in a world overrun by the living dead, but this isn’t just another George Romero rip-off. The film puts a novel spin on the standard zombie mythology, and that unique lore sets the course for the entire story. See, in this world, when a pregnant woman gets infected with the zombifying fungus, the disease also spreads to her unborn child, but these second-generation zombies differ from their progenitors in a key way. They still struggle with strong zombie impulses, but they’re not just animalistic monsters. By and large, they look and act exactly like normal human children, so unless their hunting instincts are kicking in, it’s impossible to tell them apart from non-infected kids. Nevertheless, a group of scientists and soldiers has managed to identify and capture a number of these second-generation zombies, and they’ve put the creatures in a facility that looks like a mix between a school and an insane asylum. The children take classes and learn from a human teacher, but they’re constantly either restrained or locked away so they can’t hurt anybody. One day, the place comes under attack by a swarm of first-generation zombies, and only a few residents make it out alive. Among them are a zombie child named Melanie, a kind teacher named Miss Justineau, and Dr. Caldwell, the head scientist at the school. They traverse the barren post-apocalyptic landscape searching for a way to survive, and unsurprisingly, most of them look at Melane with more than a hint of suspicion. Other than Miss Justineau, these characters all view the girl as subhuman, but as The Girl with All the Gifts goes one, they slowly learn that she’s just as human as anybody else. “I Can’t Afford It” Now that we know the basic plot of the movie, let’s start getting into some specifics. Before the facility gets overrun by zombies, two scenes highlight the horrific way Dr. Caldwell and the soldiers view these infected children. First, there’s an early scene in The Girl with All the Gifts where a soldier stops Miss Justineau from touching one of her students, and he angrily berates her for “think[ing] something’s human because it’s made in the right shape.” In isolation, that might seem like an odd thing to say, but in context, it makes perfect sense. The man recognizes that Melanie and her classmates look human (they’re “made in the right shape”), but he believes their appearance is deceptive. The way he sees it, these kids are actually inhuman monsters bereft of the dignity real human beings possess, and they deserve to be treated as such. A bit later on, Dr. Caldwell brings Melanie to her lab for a truly nefarious purpose. She wants to dissect the poor girl and use her remains to make a zombie vaccine, but thankfully, Miss Justineau steps in at the last minute and stops her. The two women only have a brief exchange before the scene ends, but their words contain a world of meaning. Justineau explains that you only need to spend five minutes with these children to recognize their humanity, and in response, Caldwell utters a genuinely chilling line: “What you’re feeling, I accept it, but I can’t afford it.” In other words, the doctor doesn’t have a good reason for denying Melanie’s humanity. She knows the girl and her classmates are in fact human beings with the same dignity as anyone else, but she refuses to accept that obvious fact. She wants Melanie to be subhuman so she can dissect the kid and make a vaccine, so she engages in the kind of dehumanizing doublethink that’s plagued our species for ages. Most obviously, it happened back in the heyday of the transatlantic slave trade. The White European slave traders knew they couldn’t treat human beings like cattle, so to justify this barbaric practice, they had to tell themselves that Black Africans aren’t really human. The same thing happens today in modern forms of slavery like sex trafficking, and this kind of rationalization also occurs with regard to abortion. It’s a biological fact that a new human being comes to be at fertilization, so if we really believe in human rights, we have to extend those rights (including the right to life) to the unborn. But the abortion industry “can’t afford” to recognize that basic truth, so it tries to convince people that embryos and fetuses are just clumps of cells rather than true (albeit immature) human beings. Melanie’s Humanity In contrast, Miss Justineau’s claim that you only need to spend five minutes with Melanie to see that she’s human bears itself out in the rest of the film. As the characters travel the desolate terrain, the girl’s true nature becomes harder and harder to deny. She proves to be a valuable member of the team, and there are multiple times when the group would’ve perished without her help. For example, there’s a scene where she uses a stray dog to lead the zombies away from her companions, and in another instance, Melanie goes ahead of the group and finds the best way around an area swamped with zombies. Throughout all this, the girl has numerous chances to run away and leave her friends to fend for themselves, but she never does. She displays truly human traits like loyalty, compassion, and love, so she’s clearly not just a monster that mimics our behavior. Sure, her zombie-like instincts and the fungus that lives inside her make her a bit different from most people, but as she proves time and time again, those differences don’t make her any less human. She has the same basic dignity and deserves the same rights as anyone else, and in the face of this irrefutable evidence, even the hard-hearted Dr. Caldwell is eventually forced to admit the truth. Abortion and Human Dignity The Girl with All the Gifts ends with Melanie unleashing the zombifying fungus into the air and making the world safe for her kind, but she hasn’t forgotten her more “normal” companions. While Dr. Caldwell and the one remaining soldier don’t make it, Miss Justineau stays alive by remaining indoors, and the film ends with her teaching a new group of second-generation zombies from the safety of her new home. It’s a beautiful vision of people putting aside their differences to live in harmony (well, as much harmony as feral children can muster) on the basis of their shared humanity, and if you know anything about the pro-life movement, you know that this vision is the foundation of our advocacy as well. Despite what some people think, opposing abortion isn’t about devaluing women or their bodies. Rather, it’s about recognizing the value and dignity of all human life, born and unborn, and fighting for a world where that dignity is recognized and protected. It’s a cause that dovetails perfectly with the message of The Girl with All the Gifts, and if you pay close attention, you’ll find that the movie understands that connection way better than you might expect. See, the soldiers sometimes refer to Melanie and her classmates as “freaking abortions,” and Melanie herself even incorporates the phrase into her own vocabulary a couple of times (probably out of naïveté). Much like the comment about being “made in the right shape,” this is also an odd expression, but if you understand it in context, it too makes perfect sense. These “abortions” (Melanie and her classmates) are dehumanized and seen as disposable just like the unborn often are in our society, so The Girl with All the Gifts isn’t just about human dignity in general. It’s an allegory for unborn children, and it not-so-subtly decries the way abortion strips them of their humanity and treats them like objects that can be thrown away to benefit others.
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We’ve all seen it before. A family moves into a new house, and soon afterwards, they realize that the place is haunted. That basic formula has been a staple of horror cinema for about eighty years, but Presence promises something different. Sure, on paper the plot might sound yawn-inducingly familiar, but the film has a twist: it’s shot entirely from the ghost’s perspective. And when I say “entirely,” I mean entirely. From the very first frame to the last, we only experience this story through the intrusive spirit’s eyes, and when I first heard about that unique hook, I was…well, I was hooked. I couldn’t wait to see this novel approach to a time-honored horror trope, so I bought a ticket for opening weekend as soon as I got the chance.
Presence was directed by Steven Soderbergh, and it stars Lucy Liu, Chris Sullivan, Callina Liang, Eddy Maday, and West Mulholland. The film follows a family of four–Rebecca, Chris, and their teenage kids Chloe and Tyler–as they move into a new house. Unbeknownst to them, the place is haunted by a mysterious entity that spends much of its time invisibly watching them, but the titular presence isn’t the only thing these people have to worry about. Their relationships with each other are falling apart, and Chloe is having a particularly tough time. Her best friend recently died of a drug overdose, and her mother clearly favors her older brother. It’s just a bad situation all around, and in typical haunted house fashion, it’s about to get worse. Before we get to the real meat of this review, I have to give you a warning. Despite the marketing and the premise, Presence is more of a dreary family drama than a straight up horror movie. Sure, there are a few scenes where the entity engages in cliched ghostly behaviors, like moving books around or trashing an entire room, but for the most part, this spirit is a silent observer that just watches its living housemates as they go about their daily lives. Viewers looking for Paranormal Activity-style chills and thrills are going to be sorely disappointed, but if you can accept this film for what it is, I think you’re going to have a great time. For starters, the acting in Presence is excellent. This entire cast is 100% believable, but as usual, there’s a standout who shines a bit brighter than the rest. Chris Sullivan plays Chris, and his character is the only one who seems to care about Chloe. The guy tries his best to repair the girl’s relationships with her mother and brother, but unfortunately, his efforts prove largely ineffective. To add to Chris’s misery, his relationship with his wife is also pretty shaky, and that devastating one-two punch lays a heavy emotional burden on the man’s shoulders. His life is slowly falling apart, and Sullivan masterfully brings those struggles to life. The pain in his face, voice, and mannerisms is nearly tangible, so you’ll believe that Chris is genuinely being crushed under the weight of his family’s heart-rending self destruction. Along with the rest of this stellar cast, Sullivan allows you to buy into these characters with no trouble at all, and for a movie like Presence, that’s crucial. See, for most of the film’s runtime, this story just meanders along without any clear direction. Up until the third act, it’s little more than a steady stream of disappointment and domestic dysfunction, so unlike most mainstream movies, this one isn’t really about the plot. Instead, it’s a character-centric meditation on grief, isolation, and trauma, and as I hinted at earlier, those themes primarily revolve around Chloe. Yes, this whole family is crumbling, but Chloe bears the brunt of their breakdown. The way Rebecca and Tyler treat her and talk about her (both when she’s there and when she’s not) is utterly heartbreaking, and in a somewhat counterintuitive way, that feeling multiplies exponentially when her father stands up for her. His frustration at his wife and son just adds fuel to this emotional fire, so you’ll come to sympathize with the girl after about ten minutes. And if the story itself doesn’t get you on her side, the film’s unique perspective is sure to do the trick. Like I said before, we experience Presence entirely through the spirit’s eyes, and that novel approach greatly intensifies the movie’s emotional appeal. It makes you feel like you’re actually the ghost that lives in this family’s new house, so when the entity begins to show some purpose, you can’t help but imbibe a bit of that purpose yourself. As you might be able to guess, the specter quickly takes an interest in Chloe and even protects her from harm a couple of times, and that pretty much seals the deal for us. Presence doesn’t just tell us to sympathize with the girl. It involves us in its heartbreaking story and almost forces us to care about Chloe’s isolation and grief, and the way I see it, the film wants us to take that concern with us when we walk out of the theater and encounter real human beings experiencing similar problems. The ending hammers that idea home as well, but I obviously can’t get into any specifics about it. I’ll let you find out for yourself how this movie wraps up, but I can say that the final few scenes put a really cool spin on the standard tropes of redemption and unfinished business. They bring the film’s message to life in a stark and surprising way, so when the credits began to roll, I was a happy man. Presence is a great new addition to the haunted house genre, and if you’re a fan of drama horror like me, I highly recommend that you check this movie out. I’ve been ravenously excited for Wolf Man ever since the film was announced. I’m a huge fan of the classic Universal monsters, and the original The Wolf Man is one of my favorites. On top of that, this new remake was helmed by the guy who made the tragically underseen sci-fi thriller Upgrade and the nearly perfect remake of The Invisible Man, so I had all the faith in the world that he would knock it out of the park once again. I bought a ticket for opening night as soon as I got the chance, and now that I’ve finally seen the movie, I’m happy to report that it does not disappoint.
Wolf Man was directed and co-written by Leigh Whannell, and it stars Christopher Abbott, Julia Garner, and Matilda Firth. In the film, Blake leads a seemingly normal life with his wife Charlotte and his daughter Ginger, but that all changes when he receives some sad but expected news about his father. The guy apparently went missing years ago, and after what we can only assume were numerous fruitless searches, he’s finally been declared dead. In the wake of this pronouncement, Blake inherits his childhood home, and when he goes there to pack the place up, he decides to take his family with him. Before they reach the house, they’re attacked by a mysterious creature that looks humanoid but acts like an animal, and it appears intent on making this poor family its next meal. Luckily, Blake and his crew make it to safety before the monster can seriously hurt them, but they don’t escape entirely unscathed. Blake has a scratch on his arm, and if you know anything about werewolves, you can guess what happens next. On the surface, that might sound like a really generic werewolf story, but Wolf Man takes a somewhat novel approach to its time-honored monster. Once the creature attacks, the rest of this movie takes place over the course of a single night, and it juxtaposes two different kinds of horror. For starters, even though the characters find shelter, the werewolf that attacked them still wants its dinner. It stalks them periodically throughout the film, so we get plenty of traditional lycanthrope action. But Blake throws a bit of a wrench into that conventional formula. As the night wears on, he slowly transforms into a werewolf himself, so his half of the terror is very reminiscent of the 2000 cult classic Ginger Snaps (hence the girl’s name) and David Cronenberg’s magnum opus The Fly. Sure, he turns into a full-blown monster eventually, but for most of the movie’s runtime, his side of the tale is more body horror than monster horror. And if you ask me, both elements work pretty well. Let’s start with the traditional stuff. If you saw Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man, it should come as no surprise that the guy once again shows himself to be a master of tension and suspense. Every time the threat of a werewolf attack rears its ugly head, you’ll instantly find yourself involuntarily moving towards the edge of your seat, and whenever that threat materializes, Wolf Man gets even better. The lycanthrope action here is top-notch, so if you enjoy this brand of terror, you’ll definitely get your money’s worth. Along similar lines, the horror of Blake’s transformation is pretty fun too. It’s not nearly as gut-wrenching as, say, last year’s body horror sensation The Substance, but it has its moments. It’s brought to life with genuinely convincing practical effects, and there’s one scene in particular that felt a bit like the famous transformation in An American Werewolf in London. But hands down, the most interesting thing about Blake’s metamorphosis is the way Leigh Whannel conveys the changes going on inside the guy’s head. There are multiple times when we see what he sees and hear what he hears, and that peek inside the monster’s brain is super cool. It’s a unique touch we don’t normally get in this genre, and it further cements Whannell as one of the most exciting and innovative horror filmmakers around. All that being said, Wolf Man doesn’t rely solely on the strength of its horror. Both the story and the characters have some real substance to them, so let’s turn now to the weightier parts of this movie. On the character side, all three lead stars do excellent work. To be fair, there are times when their performances feel a bit generic, but when these actors have to display heartfelt emotion, they absolutely shine. To take just one example, there’s a scene early on where Charlotte explains to Blake that she struggles to connect with their daughter, and actress Julia Garner makes her character’s pain nearly palpable. Your heart will break for this poor woman, and Garner’s costars, Christopher Abbott and Matilda Firth, do equally great work. They lay an emotional foundation that grounds the story from start to finish, and that’s important because Wolf Man is way more than just a mindless exercise in terror. Like most werewolf films, it’s also an allegory for the dark side of human nature, but once again, the movie takes a unique approach to this tried-and-true genre staple. The film begins by giving us a taste of Blake’s childhood, and we learn that he lived in constant fear of his father. The man was a rough parent with a short fuse, so even though he clearly cared for his son, his anger far overshadowed his love. After that, when we finally meet Blake as an adult, the movie immediately crafts an obvious parallel between him and his dad. He’s on an outing with his daughter, and when she does something unsafe, his anger rears its ugly head as well. But unlike his father, Blake controls his rage, and he says he doesn’t want to be that kind of parent. The comparison is just about impossible to miss, but in case you’re not convinced, Wolf Man hammers the point home in a third-act scene I can’t describe without getting into spoiler territory. I wish I could say more about it, but trust me, you’ll know it when you see it. It makes Blake’s devolution into lycanthropy a clear metaphor for generational trauma and the various ways we can unwittingly perpetuate cycles of abuse with our own children, and even though I’m not a parent myself, I still found it pretty touching. In particular, actress Matilda Firth does an amazing job of conveying Ginger’s love for her father even as he’s turning into a mindless killing machine, and the juxtaposition of her undying love and Blake’s clear trajectory towards abuse is utterly heartbreaking. That dynamic is the heart and soul of Wolf Man, and it elevates the film far above your typical mindless monster movie. In case you couldn’t tell, I had a really good time with this film. Granted, it has a few lulls here and there, so it’s not quite as good as The Invisible Man or Upgrade. It’s not going to end up on my top-ten list come December, but I couldn’t have asked for a better movie to kick off the new year. If this is what January horror looks like in 2025, I can’t wait to see what the coming months have in store for us. |
Jp Nunezis a longtime film buff and theology nerd with master's degrees in theology and philosophy from Franciscan University of Steubenville. His favorite movie genres are horror, superheroes, and giant monsters. Archives
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