‘undertone’ Review

By Nadia Dalimonte

Nina Kiri in undertone

Sound design is the star of the show in writer-director Ian Tuason’s spooky feature directorial debut, undertone. This sensory-driven horror film, centred on a paranormal podcaster nursing her comatose mother, amplifies fear by playing with our imagination. Things go bump in the night. Creepy nursery rhymes play in reverse. Distorted voices seep through noise-cancelling headphones. Whispers travel through the walls. undertone immerses us into the cursed aura of a podcaster’s childhood home, its structure undone by a series of terrifying voice recordings sent her way. As the recordings gradually reflect personal demons back onto her, she has no choice but to face her underlying guilt as a caregiver. Capturing the visceral sounds of being haunted by one’s own grief, undertone makes a personal imprint on the horror genre.

There is something inherently unsettling about random sounds, especially ones that emerge late at night. They automatically evoke curiosity as we try and make sense of what we heard. Tuason’s film dials this sensation up to a terrifying degree, as his characters analyze what they may or may not have heard in a chilling soundscape. When sent audio files of a couple’s paranormal encounter, podcaster Evy Babic (Nina Kiri) and her remote co-host Justin (Adam DiMarco) record themselves reacting to all ten files in real-time. Unseen forces that haunt the disembodied parents-to-be trickle into Evy’s surroundings and cast shadows of doubt. While her mother (Michèle Duquet) lays dying upstairs, Evy journeys from skeptic to believer as she unearths the hidden audio messages of a culture-spanning demon.

Tuason leaves no stone unturned when it comes to utilizing every corner of the film’s minimal setting to enhance this story. When the supernatural recordings bleed into Evy’s own reality, whether through flickering lights, narrative parallels, or a very discomforting sequence involving a meditation podcast, the claustrophobic tension is palpable. The film paints an isolating picture of Evy on a physical and emotional level. We don’t see Evy’s world outside of her childhood home, and even when indoors, the majority of rooms go unexplored. The story plays out primarily in the living room (where Evy does her podcasts), in her mother’s bedroom, and in the ominous staircase that connects them. Through an impactful use of negative space, Tuason shows a neat understanding of the power that our imagination holds. And the devil is in the details.

​Patient camera movements build suspense. Long, meditative background shots encourage curiosity as to what might be lurking in the shadows. Frequent closeups on the unchanging face of Evy’s dying mother create anticipation for a sudden movement. In a genre typically riddled with jump scares and an overcompensating amount of creepy imagery, undertone stands out by slowing down and asking us to listen carefully. Sure, the film has its share of spooky visual cues, the majority of which lean into Catholic iconography and disturbing childhood drawings. The film also carefully teases this imagery in lockstep with the narrative. The deafening silence of Evy’s noise-cancelling headphones block out her reality. The creaking of her mother’s bedroom door signals a matriarch who may be physically comatose, but whose spirit is very much around.

There is something about this home that feels strangely familiar, and the film’s production can explain why. Tuason filmed undertone inside his real childhood home in Toronto, Canada, where he was the primary caregiver of his parents. His direction captures the feeling of inescapable isolation most effectively through sound and setting. The found-footage auditory horror adds dimension to the entire visual and sonic language. Whether it’s through digitally reversed tracks or recurring religious imagery, Tuason conveys the sensation that the closer we observe, the more afraid of what we might discover. It’s an isolating experience amplified by the characterization of Evy, one of few faces we see in undertone. She is our doubtful guide who finds escapism in her supernatural podcast, until the audio files begin to mirror what she’s going through. The shift from skeptic to believer is well-orchestrated in that we don’t get one transformative moment out of nowhere, but a series of subtle paranormal activities that cause Evy to unravel. 

Carrying the film on her shoulders and navigating past some repetitive defining features of the character, Nina Kiri delivers an impactful performance. Kiri lets us feel several shades of contradiction and exhaustion. Evy wants to be there for her mother and cannot bring herself to leave, but she’s also terrified of being trapped in one lifecycle. Primal fears of terminal illness and childbirth seem to possess her mindset. One scene in particular gives Evy an early morning scare when she returns home after a night out to find her mother in a dangerous position. It speaks so clearly to the guilt-ridden side of caregiving, where time spent away from a sick loved one gnaws at your conscience. With the added shame of Evy not feeling good enough to be a mother herself, the film quietly unpacks these layers of parenthood through a very patient lens. Sometimes, the meditative approach is a little too indulgent, as certain defining features of this story begin to feel repetitive and overtly opaque. 

Ultimately, the buildup of undertone packs a bigger punch than the conclusion. The creepy possession imagery is ambitious in its small-scale creativity. But when two thirds of the film are built so effectively on what we don’t see, having a show-and-tell climax feels underwhelming. It threatens to undercut the carefully plotted auditory experience that comes before. Tuason thankfully maintains an unwavering sinister energy throughout. As a story, the film risks fading quickly from memory, but the feeling of watching it is rattling to the core.

undertone is now playing in theatres.