The twins of Goodnight Mommy (Radius)

Goodnight Mommy has one crackin’ good premise, but it doesn’t quite know what to do with it. This Austrian film aims for the sparseness and sleekness of recent arty Scandinavian horror, and in doing so, falls into self-enforced blandness. It treads the straight path instead of really examining its characters and ends up letting down the audience.

Yet the film taps into a deep primal fear. What if your mother is not your mother but an imposter and nobody believes you? This is a fantastic premise that you think must be based on an old Twilight Episode or a Ray Bradbury short story. It’s just so simple and primal. Kudos to co-directors and co-writers Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala on that point.

The film opens with twin boys Lukas and Elias (Lukas and Elias Schwarz, respectively) playing in a cornfield, a pond, and a cave. They are having a fabulous time. All within walking distance of their home. God, if only I lived in a place like that. It’s like Treasure Island, a preteen paradise. By contrast, the house they live in is postmodern sleek and terribly antiseptic. We meet their mother (Susanne Wuest), a model and minor celebrity, and in a lovely reveal, we discover her face is bandaged up like a mummy. Either she’s been in a terrible accident or she’s had serious plastic surgery.

She serves lunch to Lukas and Elias, but she does not acknowledge Lukas at all. It’s as if he doesn’t exist, which angers and confuses Elias. And I’m going to stop right here. Because within an instant, I had figured out what was going on. It’s so glaringly obvious yet it seems that the filmmakers considered it their ace up the sleeve. So, all the clues that are supposed to add up to a stunning revelation end up feeling like hammers clobbering the audience over the head repeatedly, and I do mean repeatedly.

Plus, as in many horror films, the characters only have to offer one explanation and the whole thing would be over. There are so many simple ways the mother can prove she is actually the boys’ mom, but she never does. You are practically screaming at her, “Just remind him of the time he fell of his bike when he was five! That he hates Brussel sprouts! Anything!” And what mother on earth would let their kids have a baker’s dozen of hissing cockroaches as pets? Seriously. When does that happen?

However, the performances are solid and the production designers earn their keep. A couple of moments build up a good head of steam: when the Red Cross comes to visit and when Mother realizes that she may have underestimated her children’s conviction. But for the most part, Goodnight Mommy is dressed up and subpar as horror or as a psychological thriller. A disappointing execution of a good idea.