
Flicks, Aaron Yap
It’s not often you’ll see an American horror movie so willing to methodically process the aftermath of personal tragedy. Hereditary does that, and then some. Hereditary just stays in the hurt. The suffocating stench of flower bouquets at a funeral. The deafening silence of returning to your home after a loved one has passed. The family unit threatening to implode from repressed guilt. This is grief as a festering, gangrenous wound.
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