A Gloomy Elegy Unfolds
“She's not gone… she spoke to me too last night.” That opening line from the trailer isn't just spooky—it sets a pulse. As Jack (Dacre Montgomery) arrives in New Zealand for his estranged mother's funeral, he reconnects with Jill (Vicky Krieps), his mother's widow. Then—boom—the mother's ghost flips the script: inhabiting both their bodies for a chilling nocturnal waltz. It's intimate terror, grief amplified by the supernatural.
Krieps isn't just acting here—she's singing. Her original song, “Jill,” closes the film and was even performed live at TIFF on September 5, 2024. That's bold: a character's pain braided into the very soundtrack.
Director's Lens & Visual Haunting
Samuel Van Grinsven, channeling childhood echoes from New Zealand's South Island, shapes grief into something breathable, almost tangible. Tyson Perkins' cinematography—soft focus drifting in and out—mirrors emotional whiplash, while Maurice sound design toys with wind, whisper, or wail. The result: it's eerie before anything jumps out.
Caryn James of The Hollywood Reporter praised it as “poetic” and disorienting, where every frame feels like memory shifting under the lens.
Festival Premiere & US Release
- September 2024: Premiered in Toronto, with Krieps performing “Jill” live.
- August 15, 2025: Opens in select US cities—New York, Santa Monica, North Hollywood, Chicago, Santa Ana—with screenings rolling out elsewhere (Chicago and Sedona, August 22; Santa Barbara August 22).
Why It Matters
This isn't a jump-scare fest—it sounds like a spiral dive into how grief warps those left behind. A son betrayed by abandonment, a widow entangled in guilt… and a spirit that refuses silence. It's reminiscent of The Babadook in its emotional core, but the possession aspect promises something more sensual… more claustrophobic.
It's rare that a ghost story is both personal memoir and cinematic chill. Van Grinsven's film seems to embody both—written by him and Jory Anast—and fueled by genuine emotion.
Human Hook
I keep flashing back to that trailer moment—Jack's eyes widening mid-possession, and Jill's sobs echoing across bodies. It smacks of family trauma twisting into something monstrous. I'm simultaneously drawn in and hesitating—this feels too close, too raw. That's the risk with intimate horror—it can crack open old wounds.
So… Is It Masterful or Melodramatic?
It could tip either way. If the film leans too heavy on its grief without control, the sorrow might swamp the scares. But if it nails that tightrope—of a haunting that feels hereditary, ancestral—then this could be one of the more striking ghost tales in years.
Final Thought
Went Up the Hill isn't just a ghost story—it's a grief story, a body-horror dance with memories that won't die. It speaks to anyone who's ever carried loss in their bones. And when it hits US cinemas on August 15, 2025, I'll be there—gripping my armrest, wondering if letting go means letting go of those we love… or if they never really leave.
