THE SECRET OF MARROWBONE: A Ghost Of The Film It Tries To Summon

Marketing misdirection can do a film wonders: the likes of mother! and Hereditary films have thrived recently by concealing plot developments from their trailers, effectively subverting and diverting expectations so that when the eventual product arrives with audiences, it comes as a genuine surprise to viewers – for better or worse.

It’s evident that there is a similar attempt in the marketing of Sergio Gutiérrez Sánchez’s The Secret of Marrowbone (or, simply Marrowbone, depending what corner of the world you live), in a way that tries to hide the true direction of the picture – but the fundamental difference is that these filmmakers can’t themselves grasp what they want this film to be.

Very simply, Marrowbone follows a mother and her four children who have fled their abusive father and have taken on a new identity to protect and start anew – taking the name of the house they will now reside in, they will be known as the Marrowbones but must do their best to fit in until the oldest comes of age. Starring George MacKay, Anya Taylor-Joy, Charlie Heaton, Mia Goth and Matthew Stagg, the horror film (executively produced by A Monster Calls‘ J. A. Bayona) features an hour of well-rendered atmosphere and a pervading sense of mystery that it ultimately throws away with a third act that undermines the whole piece.

A brilliantly lingering atmosphere eventually evaporates

In what starts as a robust exercise in horror filmmaking, Marrowbone exudes a moody, uncomfortable tone that unapologetically lingers and helps build an engaging enigma that sustains the opening hour or so. Benefitted by some truly exceptional work from composer Fernando Velázquez, who so deftly injects his impressive score with a surreal, fairylike quality that so brilliantly contradicts the damning inevitability of the story and the family’s circumstance, the tonal and atmospheric work on display here really leaves a lasting impression.

Matched with a confident visual aesthetic bolstered by some strong cinematography from Xavi Giménez, there is no denying that Marrowbone gets a lot right. The art department works overtime on a tight budget to turn the titular residence into a character of its own; from the dilapidated exterior to the secrets that seem to be embedded in the very foundations of the house, it is as fundamental as the characters themselves and Sánchez explores it fantastically at times. Gothic and eerie, there is a lyricism to the imagery that marks Sánchez’s directorial debut a visually-adept exercise that demonstrates a promising career ahead for the Spanish-born director.

George MacKay terrific, Anya Taylor-Joy underused

Marrowbone assembles a solid young cast to carry most of the story, with a particularly terrific lead performance from George MacKay. He portrays both strength and vulnerability as Jack often in the same breath, a well-rendered performance that keeps the film propped up for the first two acts, even as needless sub-plots are introduced. This generation’s scream queen, Anya Taylor-Joy, doesn’t really get a chance to show us what she is made of until the disastrous final act, and while she’s decent, the final stretch is not worthy of her attempt to elevate it. Charlie Heaton, Mia Goth and Matthew Stagg are fine enough but their characters are underwritten, built from singular character traits that prevent them from rising off the page.

Even with a number of successful elements in place, Marrowbone completely crumbles in its final act. After cooking up an incoherent twist that seemingly arrives from nowhere, it takes excessive pride in explaining it to you – and then explaining it again. The idea itself is frustrating but the execution amplifies your annoyance, to the extent where it is difficult to remember the decent film that once stood in its place. Collapsing under the force of its own conceit, Marrowbone throws away the hard work it has crafted until that point and it never recovers from that rug-under-the-feet moment that derails and sends the entire thing off balance.

The flaws in Sánchez’s film do not wait until the end to show up, either: there’s some really clunky work elsewhere. It juggles timelines rather clumsily and pads out the central enigma with additional subplots which the film – and the 110-minute runtime – could do without. It teases information at an often excruciating, complacent pace, so slowly that it becomes frustrating when the climax eventually arrives and so bitterly underwhelms. It’s bloated and overstuffed and while some may frame it as an admirable attempt to pack so much into the film, it performs a disservice to the elements that work, diluting their effect. With the handful of sub-genres failing to mesh effectively, it suggests an identity crisis of sorts: no one quite knows what they want this film to be – and it’s clear for all to see.

In Conclusion: (The Secret of) Marrowbone

Marrowbone is what happens, particularly in the horror genre, when a film is desperate to snag a twist ending. Rather than landing on a conclusion that feels satisfying and organic to the narrative, Marrowbone ends up delivering a third act that completely diminishes the decent ensemble performances and sleek aesthetic style that had helped conjure a tonally-assured and suitably melancholic chiller.

Sánchez is far superior as a director than he is a writer in this instance, with a bold vision he valiantly tries to execute – but he is ultimately held back by his own script. A ghost of the film it tries to summon, The Secret of Marrowbone is unable to pull everything together and its disparate elements fail to coalesce into anything approaching satisfying.

What did you make of Marrowbone’s ending?

Marrowbone is out in most of the world.