Horror can be many things. It’s what you see, and sometimes what you don’t. In most cases, it’s purely the idea that festers inside your mind, never leaving it. If recent outings in the genre have proven anything, it’s that the mere suggestion of the sinister is far more troubling than its physical manifestation. Case and point, writer/director Jamie O’Rourke’s Oscar-qualifying short film Calf, which turns a rural Irish farmstead into a waking nightmare.
The clanging backside of a tractor trudges through mud, cueing us in for an eerie opening segment. A cow lies almost motionless in a dimly lit barn, with something protruding and slithering underneath its skin. Farmer Michael (Stelphen Hogan) is out and about, having just returned from the fields while his daughter Cáit (Isabelle Connolly), her brother Sean (Isaac Fitzgerald), and their mother Aine (Kate Nic Chonaonaigh) try to enjoy breakfast before dawn. Unbeknownst to the family, a gruesome fate has befallen their patriarch just outside the home, and Cáit’s investigation of the matter only leads to more questions than answers.
Rewarding those who choose to immerse themselves in its murky, claustrophobic atmosphere, Calf does not take your viewership for granted. Richly rendered textures, detailed closeups, and Dutch angles aplenty, the film refuses to let either one of its shots bore you with conventional framing, courtesy of cinematographer Colm Hogan. The darkest areas of certain buildings allow little to no light through, creating an environment on the farm that feels hostile, almost alien. When the sun finally does rise, it’s tucked away behind clouds, creating a dour haze that never lets up.
At the center of all this is Cáit, who approaches Michael’s predicament with a shockingly cold disposition. Why the indifference? Why is there a reluctance to include Aine or even Sean? Connolly is arresting in a performance that constantly toys with your perception, recontextualizing already strained familial ties. Something is totally wrong in this household, and O’Rourke doesn’t so much as give us a concrete piece to this puzzle. That is, until the conclusion at least, where it all comes crashing down and you come to realize the subtle signs that were hiding in plain sight.
A blindsiding conclusion is the cherry on top of Calf’s already unsettling story. It dials up its dread factor to an eleven… and never lets up.