Censor Review
9/10
Nostalgia is a powerful and often mishandled tool for filmmakers. Certain eras, especially the ‘80s, are portrayed today in such an idealized and borderline cartoonish manner. Most interpretations of the ‘80s today is pastiche and overly styled. Censor is one of the few films that doesn’t resort to these methods to visualize an era. It portrays the grimy and realistic aspects of the ‘80s in a way that most others don’t. I am not inherently against nostalgia; it is the driving force behind my love for some of my favorite films from childhood. Reverence for the past, however, can quickly turn to blind worship. We love these things from our past because they comfort us. They bring us back to a time when we felt more optimistic about the future. In times of great upheaval and stress en masse, that love for the warm blanket of nostalgia can lead to cherry picking the superficial things from the past that bring us joy and ignoring anything negative.
Nostalgia-driven films and TV often focus on the superficial, more digestible tropes of the past rather than examining them. They prey on our yearning for a more innocent time with assembly line products coated in the surface sheen of shiny objects you recognize. They are basically just saying “Hey remember this? Isn’t this cool? Give us money.” Thankfully, Censor never resorts to those manipulative tactics. I found out about this film thanks to one of my favorite film channels on YouTube, Redlettermedia. It seemed like exactly the kind of film I would love, a slow burn atmospheric horror. It exceeded those expectations in every way. Many debut features have great ideas, but muddled execution. They often overcompensate for a lack of experience by overstuffing a film with too many concepts. They have a voice that is aching to be heard, but the expression of that voice gets lost in the noise.
That is not the case with Censor. Director Prano Bailey-Bond already has a commanding and powerful control of her creative voice. She knows exactly what kind of film she is making. There is no overcompensating or mixed execution of too many ideas; her vision is vivid and clear. It’s a rare gift to have your first feature film emerge fully formed, like a dormant mystical creature waiting to be discovered. Robert Eggars had that with his debut The Witch, as did Julia Ducournau with Raw. Their talents are certainly influenced by others, but they still retain their independent spirit. Horror is an exceptionally difficult genre to stand out in. There are so many films made in that genre, and many filmmakers start out there.
Censor manages to feel unique with its emotional character-driven focus. This is not a schlocky ‘80s inspired slasher; the story is driven by trauma. We are introduced to Enid, played brilliantly by Niamh Algar. Her performance is one of my favorites of 2021. She brings so much subtle, repressed pain to the role. Her internalized anguish gradually builds throughout the film, but she subdues it with her formal demeanor. At first it just comes out in her nervous mannerisms, but her suffering is soon visible on the surface. There is a rich interior world expressed in her performance.
Enid is a film censor in the UK during the infamous Video Nasties era of the 1980’s. For those who don’t know, the Video Nasties was a list of 72 films that were banned in the UK for explicit violent content. There were many other films that were heavily cut, but the Video Nasty label generally refers especially to these 72 banned films. This censorship tirade was pushed by conservative and religious groups, specifically the NVALA, aka the National Viewers and Listeners Association, founded by Mary Whitehouse. They objected to many home video horror releases during this time and utilized the Obscene Publications Act 1959 to enact their policies. There was a loophole back then which allowed films on home video to bypass the typical British Board of Film Classification (BBFC). That made it possible for these often brutal horror films to be released uncensored. Parliament eventually passed the Video Recordings Act 1984, which required video releases to be certified by the BBFC. I’ve seen a few of these so-called “Video Nasties.” To be honest they are really not my kind of film; they often border on grotesque for the sake of it. That being said, the extreme censorship and fear driven moral panic back then was a ridiculous overreaction.
Enid takes her job very seriously; she really believes she is doing this for the greater good. She is earnest about trying to help people by cutting and banning these films she views as obscene. After meeting a slimeball producer, played by the always fantastic Michael Smiley, she watches one of his films produced by a mysterious director, Frederick North. While watching the typically twisted horror, she recognizes one of the actresses as bearing a startling resemblance to her long-vanished sister Nina. This kickstarts her obsession with digging into her past and what happened to Nina. All we are told is she vanished when Enid was a child. Her parents even show her a death certificate so they can all move on, but she refuses to accept the death as reality.
This is the core of the story, living with trauma and having it impact your daily life. Enid’s mental health deteriorates the more she delves into this mystery. She spots parallels to her past in Frederick North’s film and hears cryptic hints about her sister in the producer’s words. People around her start to notice this downward spiral and how it is taking a toll on her life. She cannot handle the fact that her sister is gone; moving beyond that pain feels impossible to her. Her sister was not the only triggering factor that led to her deterioration; one of the films she okayed for release with her cuts was cited as the reason for a real-life murder. A tabloid newspaper leaks her name as the censor who approved the referenced film’s release.
She is hounded by paparazzi and haunted by the guilt that a decision she made caused a death in real life. The film balances a deeply emotional character study, with fantastic visuals. Later scenes in the film reminded me of the great Italian horror films I love by filmmakers like Dario Argento and Mario Bava. The visuals in Censor are stylish but they never overrule the substance of the film. The color palette becomes more and more vibrant as the film goes on. Initially we are presented with the more sterile environment of her office, but that gives way to deep reds and lush greens. Her crumbling mental state is reflected in these visuals. The colorful visuals are not there for superficial reasons; they are a direct personification of her pain.
Enid carries her emotional baggage wherever she goes. The horrific films she watches become an echo of her torment, a way for her to feel like she is doing good in the world after failing to find her sister. The disturbing world of the video nasties she watches soon leak into her life. It becomes more and more difficult to tell what is and isn’t real. Did Enid really see her sister in Frederick North’s film or was she just projecting the image she was hoping to see somewhere? As the film descends deeper into her fractured mind, it becomes more and more clear how damaged she is by her past. Censor is a unique and fantastic film that engrossed me throughout its surprisingly short running time. If you’re looking for a great character-focused horror film, then I highly recommend it. Prano Bailey-Bond is a wonderful new voice worth keeping an eye on. I look forward to seeing what she will bring to her next film.
