Split

These days, if reality shows are your thing, you have an overwhelming array of such shows to choose from, and even movies are getting in on the act, at least in satire. But in large part because it’s so widespread, attempting to spoof the “reality” genre — which is, of course, one of the most unreal things out there — is a tricky business. Most of these shows are already ridiculously over the top, so trying to push them further isn’t always going to work out so well. But Split, a feature film from Ireland, goes boldly where no film has gone before, at least as far as I know: it’s a movie about a documentary crew following two hit men as they go about their, er, normal day to day business.

Movie poster

Our protagonists don’t even get names; they’re credited as Hitman (writer-director Robbie Walsh) and Hitman 2 (David Alexander). Which makes sense since they’re doing at least six illegal things before breakfast every day, but which also doesn’t make sense as they’re both willingly being filmed doing said illegal things. Maybe the plan is to blur their faces in post-production, but if I was a hit man — hit person, whatever — I’d never rely on anyone else’s thoroughness. But I always assume the worst, in that once that recording is made you can never be 100% sure that the wrong person won’t see it someday. Basically, if you’d be mortified (or arrested) if your video ever made its way out into the world, then just don’t record it in the first place. These guys don’t care about that sort of thing, though. Maybe they think those worries are for sissies.

Anyway, these are two very busy days in the lives of our “heroes”, so the camera crew also has a lot to do. None of their targets are exactly regular people — the vast majority of us will never have to consider the possibility of being executed by a professional assassin — but there is also the occasional, inevitable instance of collateral damage for the two to deal with. And each of them has a very different approach to their work, with First Hitman being the thoughtful one, at least relatively, while Second Hitman seems to think there’s no reason to have this job if he doesn’t get to be the ultimate tough guy and not worry about the small stuff like innocent bystanders. Like all of us, though, they have dreams for the future, and since I doubt they get benefits like insurance, it’s no wonder they have to work hard if they want to retire to that nice beach someday and drink pina coladas.

It’s as weird and wild as you might expect and then some, not to mention surreally funny. The camera crew, for instance, can’t stop asking everyone questions no matter how tense the situation. Most people hiring a hit man just aren’t going to want to stop for a quick interview as to their motivations, however much of a loss this might be to posterity, and pestering someone facing imminent death as to whether or not their life is flashing before their eyes is rarely helpful. Despite their profession, First and Second Hitmen are rather likable, even if you might not want to risk getting a drink with them, and though they might harass each other, in the end they’re a true team. There’s shockingly little blood and plenty of swearing, but most of all it’s a thoroughly fascinating look at how the less law-abiding among us live, and the craziest and most bizarrely entertaining mockumentary you’re ever likely to see.

Spirits in the Dark

Even the worst workaholic probably has some kind of hobby to help them unwind. Granted, hobbies can sometimes get pretty specific and therefore incomprehensible to those of us who don’t enjoy whatever it is. I like to relax by playing quizzes on Sporcle, which to some might seem an awful lot like deliberately reliving high school where everything will be on the test, so I understand people thinking it’s weird. In the same way, I certainly wouldn’t be interested in the hobby Gil (József Gallai) enjoys in Spirits in the Dark.

Gil, you see, likes to explore abandoned buildings and doesn’t mind doing so after dark. You couldn’t pay me enough for this kind of expedition, and it isn’t because I scare easily, or at least not just that. I’d constantly be worrying about the ceiling caving in or the floor giving way. Anyway, Gil and his wife Stephanie (Beáta Boldog) both enjoyed this, so I guess they were made for each other. Sadly, both Stephanie and their daughter died in childbirth, leaving Gil to explore alone with his camera.

A deserted theater
See, this isn’t even a nice place to visit.

Then Gil discovers some mysterious footage on his computer, footage of someone exploring an abandoned building he’s never seen before. He finds the structure intriguing, but what really stuns him is a closeup image of a white crystal necklace exactly like the one his wife always wore. Managing to track the location down, Gil finds himself in a deserted complex of buildings, supposedly a former military complex, with the main structure also the site of the video. I was just thinking it looked like Pripyat when Gil agreed with me, and the place definitely has the same grey, institutional design as well the same unsettling air of having been hastily abandoned to the elements. As his eerie walk through the crumbling, deserted hallways continues, it’s as the mystery footage suggested — Gil isn’t alone. But what haunts these halls isn’t quite what you might think, and Gil faces an unexpected test of courage that goes far beyond ghosts.

There’s a beautifully scary slow build to this film, with every shadow hiding a secret and every half-seen movement a threat. Gil, still quietly grieving his loss, is a relatable Everyman — albeit one with a strange hobby — turned into an unlikely hero. The setting is a terrifying, palpable presence, with an atmosphere that weighs on you even through the screen. Best of all, the ending makes you think. It’s a creepy and compelling film from József Gallai, who also wrote and directed, that gives another layer to the usual abandoned building tropes. It proves that you never know what nightmares — or miracles — you might find when you explore off the beaten path.