Notable more for skillful execution than dramatic depth, James Ashcroft’s thriller, adapted by him and Eli Kent from a short story by celebrated New Zealand writer Owen Marshall, is an extremely violent tale that, were it rated, would certainly merit a hard R.
High school teacher Alan “Hoaggie” Hoaganraad (Erik Thomson) and his family—wife Jill (Miriama McDowell) and teen sons Maika and Jordan (Billy and Frankie Paratene)—are on a road trip. Leaving their car for a hike in the mountains, they are approached by two drifters while resting on the grass of the lush, lonely landscape after a picnic, having just taken a picture of familial happiness about to be shattered.
The men—Mandrake (Daniel Gillies) and Tubs (Matthias Luafutu)—are a study in contrast, one talkative and the other mute, but both are menacing, and though Alan tries to placate them by handing over the car keys and all his cash, they leave the boys behind and force Alan and Jill into the car for a journey to an unknown destination Mandrake describes only as home.
The question the film leaves unresolved until the final reel is whether the abduction is a random crime or an act of targeted revenge; but along the way, the answer gradually becomes clear as Alan recalls his past and Jill grows increasingly concerned that he might be harboring a shameful secret.
Coming Home in the Dark is extremely effective as an example of cinematic terror, with episodes like a stop at a gas station, a tire blowout, and an encounter with some hot-rodding teens generating nerve-wracking tension. The precision of Ashford’s direction and Annie Collins’ editing, the strong performances (particularly from Gillies, who makes a memorable madman), and the striking character of John Gibson’s score combine to create a shockingly chilling whole.
But though some larger issues are raised at the close about New Zealand’s history of racial discrimination, the traumas left by childhood abuse, and the guilt of those who witness wrongdoing but fail to report it, the film remains more an arguably sadistic genre exercise than a serious exploration of societal failings. Nevertheless, its effectiveness in leaving one viscerally shaken is undeniable, and those who enjoy being unsettled by Cape Fear-like horror films in which the monsters are human will appreciate the dexterity—and uncompromising brutality—with which Ashcroft has fashioned his dark, frightening fable.
Extras include the theatrical trailer and a “behind-the-scenes” featurette (13 min.). A strong optional purchase for those with strong stomachs.