Tenebra starts with a bang. The film opens on a pregnant woman strapped down to a bed in an isolated mansion, desperately flailing around to get free, and speaking to an unseen child who may or may not be a ghost.
The woman eventually manages to free herself, and rushes to the bathroom to give birth, but moments later a large, bearded man arrives and beats her, albeit this beating is somewhat artfully portrayed with the woman off-screen as we see the man's fists pummel her. Artful presentation or not, though, it's genuinely shocking stuff, especially for a film's opening, and it establishes the bleak uncertainty that characterizes Tenebra as a whole.
After that punishing but intriguing opening, we're introduced to teenage Marta (Elisa del Genio), who lives with a never-seen, sexually-abusive father, and her younger brother. The film doesn't linger on Marta's abuse, instead informing us of it by showing her waking up with an adult man's arm around her and having her vomit without any explanation. It's a nice way of allowing the audience to do the work of connecting the horrifying dots without feeling overly exploitative.
Through a series of plot machinations, Marta and her young brother Chicco (Stefan Natic) end up in the home from the opening. But in the 20 or so minutes it takes to get to that point, it's unclear exactly what the film's narrative focus will be, and even after it continues from this point, there's a vagueness to exactly what is going on and who is who that makes the entire film wonderfully unnerving.
Tenebra manages to pull off a rather impressive, and effective, balancing act whereby it keeps audiences on their toes about what exactly the characters' relationships and motivations are, as well as what is or isn't real, without moving so far into abstraction that viewers lose interest in the characters and their predicament. Combined with the uncertainty about what exactly is happening and why, the film's score and gorgeous cinematography (that really pops with several instances of purple throughout) create an atmosphere that's as good as any gothic horror movie. It's not just the atmosphere, however; the film also pulls off some surprising and effective jump scares, without falling prey to overuse of repeated slow build-up and release.
As the film goes on, and Marta must struggle with her choices inside and outside of this potentially deadly situation, the narrative takes on an almost coming-of-age form. At the start of the film, Marta buys a suicide drug and plans to end her life to escape the abuse she suffers at the hands of her father.
Through her time at this house of horrors with Chicco, though, and her glimpse into how abuse has ruined the lives of others, she develops a new perspective. There are some scenes touching on this narrative that are overwritten and state their themes a bit too obtusely, but overall the film succeeds, essentially using its brutal horror background to tell an emotionally resonant coming-of-age narrative about a teenage girl and her younger brother. The constant uncertainty of the film then becomes an even greater thematic strength as it undergirds Marta's struggle to decide how to respond to her home life.
Tenebra certainly isn't an easy movie to watch, but it offers significant rewards to those who stick with it. From twists and turns that literally keep you guessing for almost the entire runtime before paying off satisfyingly, to the emotional core of the relationship between siblings and the coming-of-age story of a young woman who has suffered abuse, Tenebra is an exciting and valuable entry into the "don't go in that house" subgenre.
The film is currently screening at the ongoing Panic Fest and is available to watch on their virtual platform for a limited time.