The Mind and the Matter: A Review of Possum (2018) Dir. Matthew Holness

If I were to choose one film to embody the definition of the word “unsettling,” Matthew Holness’s 2018 film Possum would be it. From start to finish, the film is saturated with bleak, ghastly visions. Your skin will crawl. You may want to take a shower afterward. What you will NOT do is look away as the artistic integrity here is strong, compelling, and captivating. Holness, a self-proclaimed horror enthusiast, stated he prefers the horror films that “linger with you,” above all things Possum most assuredly will. 

An unspecified scandal has made puppeteer Philip a pariah. He heads home with only the clothes on his back and a large suitcase. Within the suitcase is a massive, grotesque creation - a puppet. A leering white face with bulging eyes sits atop a fetal-like body that sprouts long, hairy spider legs. This creature is the “possum,” it is the subject of Philip’s dark poem. With its chilling nursery rhyme cadence, the poem describes a stalking creature reaching out at children with its long spindly arms. Philip enters his childhood home. The place is rotting, decaying at its sole occupant’s hands, Maurice, Philip’s Uncle. The two mince words revealing a deep running tension. Philip reluctantly retells a disturbing childhood memory to Maurice. In his memory, schoolboys torture and kill a wounded fox and force Philip to partake. After the boys tire of this and depart, a weeping Philip is left with the fox, who magically awakens, sneers, and trots away.

The film then takes us through several vignettes, where Philip attempts to dispose of the creature. Regardless, it keeps crawling back. We begin to understand that these occurrences are less supernatural and are instead projections of Philip’s disturbed and psychotic mind. Disturbing visions deepen the divide between Philip’s grasp on reality, as he digs deeper into the soil of schizophrenia and paranoia. Spliced between these vignettes, the real-world hovers around Philip. In this concrete reality, a young teenager has been reported missing. The missing boy happens to be the same boy Philip stares at on his train ride home. Philip is marked a clear suspect for the abduction.  

Several revelations about our Philip come to light. His parents were burned alive in a room in the basement when he was young. He was left in the care of Uncle Philip, who is revealed to be a despicable man that has and continues to physically abuse Philip. In the climax of our story, Maurice attacks Philip in the basement. Maurice subdues him and recreates his childhood abuse. Detailed in the abuse, Philip is given strange candies. It is implied the abuse features Maurice’s long dirty fingers, which he shoves down Philip’s throat. Finally, Philip is made to disrobe and suffer whippings from Maurice with a belt. Should Philip cry out, the whipping will start again from the top. Finally, Philip musters an inner sense of control and wholeness. In a moment of clarity, he retaliates against Maurice, breaking his neck. A large box in the corner of the basement squirms. Inside is the teenage boy. He dashes away once Philip sets him free. We sigh relief as Philip is vindicated, we sigh with despair as we know, with certainty, that Philip is forever broken. 

Philip’s possum-creature is Maurice. It is also Philip. It is the literal and figurative “baggage,” which he carries. The Possum is an amalgamation of all Philip’s past traumas, a Jungian shadow manifested. The film’s constant allusions to animals who play-dead, foxes, possums, also work to characterize Philip, who must play-dead, silently enduring abuse. The puppeteer, a role held through Philip’s family, Maurice included, is also one that involves a level of manipulation and control. The puppeteer can hide behind its character or become it - a curious vocation for the fragmented mind. 

Possum is a rich experience, both aesthetically and thematically. It is bleak. There is no victory or enlightenment in this story. It is unflinching in its portrayal of mental and physical trauma. Holness ensures that every moment of this film works to get under the skin. The cinematography and sound design seem methodically curated to make you squirm. Yet, it is restrained just at the right moment to never actually scare you, or make you jump or look away. It builds to the moment of release and retracts - like a spider.