In the era of the socio-digital self, many of us are isolated, desensitized, and generally more apathetic to the things we see on the internet, and outside of it. Harassment and violence is so commonplace in the virtual wild wild west that we hardly bat an eye at it, even when that violence has real life repercussions. We’re protected by our anonymity, we’re emboldened by our online personas, and we value any form of control that we’re permitted to have – regardless of how minute that sense of control may actually be. To create an effectively horrifying techno thriller in the era of the terminally online is no easy feat, but Sylvia Caminer’s Follow Her was more than up for the task.
Follow Her quite literally follows Jess Peters (Dani Barker), an aspiring actress who has dedicated her life to investigating suspicious internet classified ads in an attempt to spare others, and to grow her online following to a point of significant monetary success. The film opens on Jess performing the duties of a dominatrix, a job that is cut short by her next one – an audition for a gum commercial that results in Jess being tickled by a tickle fetishist. In a very swift and succinct manner, Follow Her displays the hazards of meeting someone from the internet, while also showcasing the power of this film’s determined protagonist. The ads that she responds to run the gamut from harmless to dangerous, but Jess, with her disguises and hidden cameras in tow, takes pride in her ability to maintain the upper hand with whatever internet weirdo she encounters. But the dubious and devilishly handsome Tom (Luke Cook), Jess’ next target, proves to be her most perilous challenge yet.
Tom claims that he’s looking for a partner to help him write a screenplay for a psycho-sexual thriller – a premise just enticing and meta enough – and Jess is steadily disarmed by his strikingly good looks and seemingly legitimate proposition. The dialogue between these two confident but guarded characters makes for a curious, but authentically thrilling courtship. As they chat in a desolate park, another unknown man walks right by them wordlessly, much to Jess and Tom’s confusion. Their shared perplexity only adds to Tom’s likability, and mollifies Jess’ suspicions. While Jess is immediately a lovably scrappy character, there’s something a bit off about the all-too-polished Tom, despite his instantaneous magnetism. But Jess carries on to his secluded house in the woods, making her way through bizarre brainstorming sessions, and through a myriad of red flags. Jess and Tom’s meeting is playful, sexy, but consistently suspenseful – each one teasing the other with the reckless possibilities of IRL intimacy.
Follow Her has an impeccable script, written by Dani Barker, that is effortlessly and exquisitely brought to life by Caminer’s direction, and by Barker and Cook’s performances. Their spark feels genuine and electric, and their stakes feel terrifyingly tangible. Their frisky game of cat-and-mouse is deliciously disorienting and utterly unpredictable. As Jess and Tom’s conversation wavers between flirtatious and frenetic, scintillating and sinister, the power dynamic is constantly shifting, and we’re never entirely sure who is really in control. This film takes us on a taut, twisted, and turbulent journey, carefully revealing its truths as Jess, and the audience, are seduced.
Follow Her is a gloriously gripping, ferociously feminist, perfectly paranoid thrill ride that deserves to be seen without spoilers and without hesitation. Once this film kicks off, it never quits, and never falters in its chaotic crusade. In a time of artistic ambivalence, empty messaging, and sexless cinema, Follow Her is a true psycho-sexual original that aims to scare and satisfy. It is a film that keeps its cards close to its chest, and it will keep you on the edge of your seat.
