Went Up the Hill 2024

In the icy, shadow-stricken world of Went Up the Hill’s Christchurch, it would seem that the death of Elizabeth, wife of Jill (Vicky Krieps), has taken with it warmth itself. The unexpected suicide of her partner has left her a hollowed-out shell – that is, until Jack (Dacre Montgomery), Elizabeth’s long-absent son, arrives at the funeral, apparently invited by Jill herself, though she does not remember doing so.

The circumstances of Jack’s long absence are unclear – all that is known is that Jack was given up for adoption at a very young age. Staying the night at Jill and Elizabeth’s oppressive, concrete-clad mountain abode, it quickly becomes clear that the spirit of Elizabeth has not yet departed – instead, she has gained the ability to possess both wife and son and is utilising this ability to linger and address the needs of either relationship. What initially seems to be a gift from beyond, however, begins to sour when long-hidden secrets of the past begin to emerge, and lines between the two begin to be crossed.  

The sophomore feature of Samuel Van Grinsven, Went Up the Hill is a wintry, gothic affair, and a showcase for the untapped talents of Montgomery, who most will recognise as the golden-haired, ill-fated muscle mutt Billy from Stranger Things. Essentially a two-hander (with occasional, welcome interjection from Kiwi legend Sarah Peirse as Jack’s frosty, mystery-shrouded aunt), Van Grinsven tracks the trajectory of these two adrift people and the spirit between them – from unexpected refuge, to joy, to dread – with a purposeful, drip-fed escalation of tension. Questions of control, abuse and the lingering weight of past scars take hold, all while the usually pleasantly scenic Christchurch landscape is transformed into a suffocatingly claustrophobic ice prison. Van Grinsven’s muscular direction bears none of the flashy excesses of an emerging filmmaker – his vision emerges, stately, imposing and fully-formed. — Tom Augustine