A contained space. An impersonal voice delivering implacable instructions. No clear reason to what is happening or why, let alone an end in sight. Distorted memories and haunting images. These are the challenges facing Eileen (Sara Mitich) when she awakens in a metal room. Tasked with moving a pencil with increasing levels of difficulty, plagued by recollections of her daughter Eve (Evie Loiselle), and the subsequent arrival of another character mean both the addition of further pressures on Eileen as well as what appear to be psychokinetic ability. While the tests and obstacles escalate, the haunting memories remain.
Director James Mark uses the limited locations to create a serious sense of entrapment. This extends to both the physical space and the psychological enclosure of Eileen. The superb production design of the cell is both uniform and varied. Rather than being a flat metal box, the walls consist of cones or pyramidal shapes, giving the appearance of spikes and almost an inverted metal porcupine. This increases the sense of threat and oppressive enclosure, as not only is one contained but the very walls of the container are hostile.
Hostility is also conveyed by the strong changes in lighting, from white to red to blue. Thanks to the contained environment, these sudden shifts are startling and change the pallor of the scene beyond the lighting itself. Red means pressure and blue additional danger, but even the standard white light is far from neutral or reassuring. Director of photography Russ De Jong uses harsh lighting in these sequences to outline the stark lines of Eileen’s face, and softer lighting during her memories of Eve on a beach. The softer images as well as the open sky at the beach suggest an escape or release from the pressures of the cell, but even the beach is a trap of sorts, an enclosure on Eileen’s mind as much as the cell is upon her body.
The torture upon Eileen’s mind remains distressing throughout, especially as the cell is further equipped with a screen that displays a countdown through the changing colours of squares, oddly reminiscent of the old PC game Minesweeper. Like a player of that game, Eileen must utilise strategy as the detached female voice from the speaker overhead issues instructions and threats. Memories surface and influence her emotional state as well as her ability, while the unseen controller also literally switches Eileen on and off by inducing sleep. The development of Eileen’s ability parallels that of such characters as Carrie White or even superhero figures like Jean Grey, indicating an interesting crossover between horror and superhero, within this science fiction context. But while there are moments of punch the air triumph as Eileen succeeds, these are always tempered with the lack of escape or indeed autonomy.
As the film progresses, the developments spill into more overt violence including some outright body horror, but the overall tone is melancholy rather than shocking. Interestingly, the true source of the horror or indeed the power remains ambiguous. Trauma, grief and abuse all jostle for position, the cell expressing the inability to escape past sorrows of any sort. The wider context beyond the cell or the surrounding ‘facility’ is only hinted at, with some particularly chilling references such as ‘storage’.
While Control is for the most part tense and taut, there are some false steps, such as a montage where we see Eileen’s abilities increasing. While these are helpful in demonstrating the passage of time, they also release tension and therefore detract from the sense of containment, especially as the music is often distracting. Despite this, Mark still delivers an effective thriller with weighty themes that are never overplayed, with the film is at its strongest when it tightens the screws on its hapless protagonist.
Director James Mark uses the limited locations to create a serious sense of entrapment. This extends to both the physical space and the psychological enclosure of Eileen. The superb production design of the cell is both uniform and varied. Rather than being a flat metal box, the walls consist of cones or pyramidal shapes, giving the appearance of spikes and almost an inverted metal porcupine. This increases the sense of threat and oppressive enclosure, as not only is one contained but the very walls of the container are hostile.
Hostility is also conveyed by the strong changes in lighting, from white to red to blue. Thanks to the contained environment, these sudden shifts are startling and change the pallor of the scene beyond the lighting itself. Red means pressure and blue additional danger, but even the standard white light is far from neutral or reassuring. Director of photography Russ De Jong uses harsh lighting in these sequences to outline the stark lines of Eileen’s face, and softer lighting during her memories of Eve on a beach. The softer images as well as the open sky at the beach suggest an escape or release from the pressures of the cell, but even the beach is a trap of sorts, an enclosure on Eileen’s mind as much as the cell is upon her body.
The torture upon Eileen’s mind remains distressing throughout, especially as the cell is further equipped with a screen that displays a countdown through the changing colours of squares, oddly reminiscent of the old PC game Minesweeper. Like a player of that game, Eileen must utilise strategy as the detached female voice from the speaker overhead issues instructions and threats. Memories surface and influence her emotional state as well as her ability, while the unseen controller also literally switches Eileen on and off by inducing sleep. The development of Eileen’s ability parallels that of such characters as Carrie White or even superhero figures like Jean Grey, indicating an interesting crossover between horror and superhero, within this science fiction context. But while there are moments of punch the air triumph as Eileen succeeds, these are always tempered with the lack of escape or indeed autonomy.
As the film progresses, the developments spill into more overt violence including some outright body horror, but the overall tone is melancholy rather than shocking. Interestingly, the true source of the horror or indeed the power remains ambiguous. Trauma, grief and abuse all jostle for position, the cell expressing the inability to escape past sorrows of any sort. The wider context beyond the cell or the surrounding ‘facility’ is only hinted at, with some particularly chilling references such as ‘storage’.
While Control is for the most part tense and taut, there are some false steps, such as a montage where we see Eileen’s abilities increasing. While these are helpful in demonstrating the passage of time, they also release tension and therefore detract from the sense of containment, especially as the music is often distracting. Despite this, Mark still delivers an effective thriller with weighty themes that are never overplayed, with the film is at its strongest when it tightens the screws on its hapless protagonist.