We Are Still Here

We Are Still Here, released in 2015, is an intense and heart-thumping journey into horror that thrills with every suspenseful moment it posses. The film was directed by Ted Geoghegan and impressively marries elements of standard gore horror with psychological trauma unearthed by loss and the supernatural, which gives a depth to the storyline that is often lacking in the genre.

The movie's captivating essence lies in its masterful use of classic horror aesthetics, while skillfully layering evocative and impactful themes. The film cleverly utilizes the solitude and eerie silence of a secluded New England home as the perfect platform for escalating tension and grueling horror. Its explosive and unyielding suspense confirms Geoghegan as an emerging talent in the genre of horror.

The cast selection contributes immensely to the potency of We Are Still Here. The two central characters are the profoundly sorrowful married couple Paul and Anne Sacchetti, portrayed by Andrew Sensenig and Barbara Crampton, respectively. Their performances infuse the movie with a palpable sense of grief and loss. Larry Fessenden lends his talent to play Jacob Lewis, a family friend who provides comedic relief whilst simultaneously deepening the layers of suspense within the narrative.

The movie picks up with the Sacchettis, still reeling from the recent loss of their son, moving to a remote home in the frost-coated tranquility of New England. They hope to find some peace and healing away from their urban past. However, what they find instead is an escalating series of inexplicable events that unsettle their already frazzled nerves. Anne soon starts to believe that their son's spirit is present in the house. However, the unsettling occurrences soon take their toll as they uncover something much more sinister lying dormant within the walls of their newfound home.

The production design and cinematography play crucial roles in establishing the tense and chilling atmosphere. The film not only wonderfully plays with the sub-genre of haunted houses but also uses effective visual imagery to develop the narrative’s psychological elements. The menace that the house presents comes alive in broad daylight, proving that horror need not be confined to the darkness to be frightening. The film, being set in the 70s, makes impeccable use of its period setting, infusing a distinct throwback flavor that evokes the spirit of the early horror classics.

The storytelling style in We Are Still Here is nuanced and complex. There’s a thread of unsettling tension that begins to unravel from the first frame, reaching feverish heights towards the climax. Suddenly, the Sacchettis don't just have to deal with their crippling grief but a force far more menacing. They find solace and guidance in their friends, Jacob Lewis and his wife May, played by Lisa Marie, who happen to be experienced in navigating the complexities of the spiritual world. They prove to be strong allies in the couple’s fight against the menacing presence.

We Are Still Here is more than just your standard ghost story. It bears the hallmarks of a standard horror movie set-up, but it skilfully diverges to offer surprising depth and character development. It navigates a multitude of themes, such as loss, grievance, healing, and the nature of evil, making it significantly more emotional and thought-provoking than your average scare-fest.

The manner in which the haunting narrative unfolds provokes a multitude of emotions that resonate beyond the closing credits. It truly is a tribute to the stylized and intelligently constructed horror narratives of the past while also demonstrating considerable originality. The compelling performances, atmospheric cinematography, and chilling score all amp up the film's terror quotient, effectively ensuring viewers remain at the edge of their seats.

In conclusion, We Are Still Here catapults the genre of horror to new dimensions, delving beneath the surface to tap into a more profound emotional depth. It's a haunting tale of supernatural suspense, grief, and vengeance that reminds you – in the most horrifying manner possible – that what we bury doesn't always stay buried.