When it comes to popular settings for horror films, few locations are as enduring as the beach. In a time where vacations are a pipe dream for many, it seems only fitting that derailed and ill-fated beach-centric stories have found their way back to popularity’s shore. Spearheaded by films like The Beach House, The Rental, and The Wretched, 2020’s indie horror passion for sandy shores continues with director Ryan Glover’s latest feature film, The Strings.
Making its world premiere October 2nd as part of Salem Horror Fest 2020, The Strings is a hauntingly beautiful film that chills in more ways than one. Set and filmed on the stark winter beaches of Prince Edward Island with a minimal cast and crew, the film’s story centers around Catherine (Teagan Johnston). A professional and talented musician in the middle of both a creative and personal break-up, Catherine heads to her aunt’s unoccupied vacation home in an effort to escape, isolate, and focus on her music.
Once Catherine arrives and settles into her solitude, the film provides an intimate and fascinating look at her creative process. A real life singer, songwriter, and performer, Teagan Johnston’s stunningly genuine performance and killer soundtrack contributions highlight a rarely-seen side of artistic creation. Cycles of productivity, hours of experimentation, and vulnerable outpourings of emotion all take their mental toll. Fighting the aggravating mundanity and emotional taxation with an ever-increasing alcohol intake, Catherine’s journey to redefine her music is captivating and colored with shades of realism.
As part of her new artistic direction, Catherine schedules a photo shoot with friend and photographer, Grace (Jenna Schaefer). For the location of the shoot, Grace takes Catherine to an abandoned house with a locally renowned haunted past. The site of multiple mysterious deaths over the years, the house provides the duo with fascinating conversation material and an equally-captivating backdrop. While later examining digital proofs of the shoot, Catherine notices a strange shadowy shape in the background of a few shots. What starts as a mere photographic curiosity soon begins to haunt Catherine in a multitude of ways.
Shrouded in ice, snow, cool blues and vivid darkness, there’s a coldness in color and environmental surroundings that transcends the film’s location. Mirroring Catherine’s struggle to cope, the sweeping landscapes, seasonal weather, and striking realism captured by Glover’s cinematography benefit the film’s overall sense of authenticity. Like winter itself promising spring and rebirth, there’s a beauty in Catherine’s stalled state. Everything is up for debate — creatively, romantically, personally, and professionally. And it is here, in this limitless potential, that Catherine’s story becomes most terrifying and tragic.
Although one might initially assume the title is a reference to the musical material present in the film, it soon becomes clear that there are layers to its meaning. Like a puzzle with its pieces scattered across the table, Catherine’s story is present if not immediately recognizable. Assembled with deliberate and effective precision, The Strings’ slowburn presentation becomes so much more than just another ghost story by the time the credits roll.
In a time where big budget, large-scale productions are untenable and unrealistic, indie horror continues to offer up creative, inventive films in spades. Among this cultivated crowd of ingenuity now stands The Strings with its own special brand of beach horror. Simultaneously traversing the realms of creativity, emotional healing, time, space and our place in it, the film offers a hauntingly unique picture of the world. A dark exploration of the strings that bind, lead, attach, and free, Catherine’s story is a refreshing spin on what it means to be haunted. And while the scares are unquestionably effective, the film’s true strength lies in the frightening terror that sinks in when one stops to think about who — or what — is pulling at those strings.
