Toni Collette in Hereditary (A24)

Hereditary is a visceral, ambitious horror film by first-time feature director Ari Aster that delivers some genuine tension and chills, but, for the most part, it bites off way, way more than it can chew.

The film centers on the Graham family: mother Annie (Toni Collette), a successful artist who creates dioramas of personal events in her life; father Steve (Gabriel Byrne), a therapist; teenage son Peter (Alex Wolff); and daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro), a morbid 13-year-old. The dynamics of the family seem typical enough. Annie is intense and occasionally aloof, Steve is gentle and nurturing, and Alex smokes weed and longs after a female classmate. The film begins with the funeral of Annie’s mom, a cold, distant woman who, for some reason, had a strong connection to Charlie and no one else. Oh, she also has a few books about spirituality lying around.

Additionally, grandmother has done something to bring down misfortune on the Graham family. Tragedy strikes in the film’s first third, which cracks open reams of guilt for the Grahams to throw at each other and moves the narrative into the realm of a ghost story. But that aspect, like most of the plot, is a feint. There is more going on that meets the eye, and Aster pretty much hold back the goods until the last 10 minutes.

There are some haunting and terrifying images populating the movie, imagery that would give the faint of heart some sleepless nights. He also knows how to build up a froth of quiet tension before going in for the kill. It’s atmospheric and, at times, truly disturbing and creepy. But Aster also seems to making three different films.

For the first 45 minutes or so, it’s a pretty solid domestic drama, while the second third drifts into Sixth Sense territory, and the last third, well, let’s just say it’s different. The problem is the thread that connects these genre hops is thin at best. By the last third, character motivation flies out the window as Aster delivers a whirlwind of spookhouse scares, eventually winding the plot up as a particularly twisted shaggy dog story. Once you realize what actually is going on, the seams in the script start to fray. Characters act in a way that’s consistent based on what we perceive of a situation at the time, but their actions make little sense once viewers know the whole story.

Also, the foreshadowing is absurd. At one point, Charlie is eating a chocolate bar, and Byrne asks if it has nuts. Charlie shakes her head no, and Byrne replies, “Good, because we don’t have an EpiPen.” Guess what happens to her? At another point, Annie is rifling through her mother’s spirituality books, desperate for a clue to explain the ongoing mayhem. Luckily, there’s a bookmark in one of them and a highlighted passage that explains everything. All this is scored with the most portentous, ominous music Colin Stetson can muster.

Collette does a pretty fantastic job of spackling over the cracks. She gives 100 percent as the deeply flawed Annie, furious at her dead mother and, for some reason, her son, keeps all her anger under the surface. Everyone tiptoes around her, and when that fury is unleashed, it’s something. Byrne is lovely as the taciturn, loving, but slightly detached husband, and Wolff does what he can with a role that mostly requires him to be alternately confused and catatonic.

However, Hereditary is a disappointment not because it’s a disappointing horror film but because of the clear talent the director possesses. Hopefully, his next film can capitalize on that talent.