She isn't gone.

I should have just went to sleep.

Yeah, I was a little bit spooked, sure, but it was late. No one would have questioned me if I had gone straight to bed.

But I couldn't get it out of my head, you know? There was no way I was going to fall asleep. Not with that massive f--king burden coursing through me.

So when she asked me how was it? I did the worst thing possible you could do to someone who doesn't like horror movies: I told her. Everything. 

Why would you tell me this? Why? 

Um, because trust me, letting you find out on your own is worse. Way worse.

Hereditary, written and directed by Ari Aster, has pretty much permanently f--ked me up. I'm not sure I ever wanted to see some of the things I saw that night, and goddamn it, now I can't unsee them. And because of that, I really want you to see them, too.

I was (unfortunately?) raised on horror movies as a little kid so I'd argue my tolerance for scary shit is pretty high, but needless to say, I wasn't prepared for this one. As the film opens, Annie (Toni Collette, who I assume hates sleeping. And joy.) is giving the eulogy for her recently departed mother. Turns out, ol' grandma was a bit of a handful, and may have been batshit crazy. And grandma's favorite kid? It's not Peter, Annie's high-school aged son. Nope. It's Charlie. Annie's infinitely creepy middle school daughter who will straight-up haunt my nightmares til the day I die. 

Seriously.

I know it's basically after the fact, but I'd still rather not spoil anything for those of you lucky enough to have not seen this film (still not sure if I should add yet to the end of that sentence). Safe to say the next hour and fifty minutes will absolutely knock you on your f--king ass, even if your audience was as shitty and distracting as mine. Sure, I left the theater hollow and a healthy combination of confused/disappointed (I initially thought it went waaaaay off the rails in the last twenty minutes), but after talking with my sister [who has seen this movie more than once] I think most of my questions have been answered. So if you've seen it, give me another minute or two of your time and let's talk it out below. And if you haven't? Good f--king luck.

You can just hear it, can't you? Oh...you, y-y-you can't?
So, it's j-j-just me?? *jumps out nearest window*

Since the plot is basically off limits, let me just say that of all the sub-genres of horror, the one Hereditary uncomfortably resides in has always been my least favorite. Mainly because this type of shit is so relentlessly (and frankly, unapologetically) unsettling, you know? And here? F--k me, it's paired with such an awful/possible reality, I wanted to simply abort mission and call it a night. Oh, but not until I got the chance of going all Jason Voorhees on the back row... but more on that in a bit.

Speaking of not being able to shut the f--k up for two consecutive minutes, here are the Yays and Boos. As daunting as this f--ker got, I'm not even sure which is which, anymore. This is a horror film, right? So the things that made me cower in fear and disgust, are...Yays? I have no idea. Let me ram my face against this table a few times and get back to you/

Early candidate for Most Likely to Rule Hell for Eternity.

Yaaaaaa...

...aaaaay?

• I don't know why anyone would ever want to actually be in a movie like this (cut! Can we get a better looking bird to cut the head off, please?), but the performances are beyond amazing. I know they don't nominate horror, but somebody give Toni Collette something. An Oscar, a Globe...a super-soaker full of the Pope's piss?
• So did they have to take that quiz or not? I mean, we can't really focus with animals hitting the f--king windows, can we?
• If I ever need grief counseling, I'm probably going to tell my wife the same thing Annie told her husband. Except she'll totally believe me.
• This whole family, top-to-bottom, is beyond f--ked. Honestly made me feel a little bit better about my own. For a second, anyway....
• Wait, what that a model house...full of model houses? How am I both amazed and terrified at the same time? Impressive!
• While it kinda/sorta reminded me of World War Z [review], Charlie's weird clicking-sound thing was incredibly creepy but still appreciated. Probably the last thing I want to hear when I'm alone in my f--king room, though, my goodness.
• Hey, this Joan lady seems real nice, doesn't she? 
• What the f--k happened here? Good question, Dad. I've been asking myself the same question for the last hour.
• And speaking of, Dad is the real MVP of this family, am I right? Fine, former MVP. I guess Peter, um, ascends to that role by the end.
• Holy shit! Once, I got the most bloody of bloody noses in Spanish 201 and it was the f--king worst. I actually changed classes I was so f--king mortified. But what Peter deals with in class? Yeah, no thanks. I don't think there are enough tissues in the world to deal with that on the low.
• And finally, while grisly violence isn't totally my thing, I am forever in search of words that rip people open and tear their f--king hearts out. No, really. Being the mostly passive bitch that I am, the only sharp weapons I will ever wield are pointed words and this movie is f--king full of 'em. There's nothing that makes me salivate more than boobs someone saying something so f--king terrible, there's simply no going back.

That's what you get for making three shots in a row.

Booooooooo...

...ooooooooo?

• Instantly, and I say this almost lovingly, I wanted no part of Charlie.
• The whole reason we're in this mess is nuts, you know? LITERALLY NUTS.
• Models, like scale-replicas (not the ones football players marry), aren't supposed to be freaky as f--k. But, here we are. (Um, especially that one Annie made...good God, why?)
• Does doing something f--ked up whilst eating a chocolate bar somehow make it worse? Asking for a friend. A very, very concerned friend.
• Man, my own kids can be quite the cockblockers, but uh...they ain't got shit on Charlie. Though, to be fair, if your kid is creepy as f--k as it is, I wouldn't want to participate in anything could result in another one. Like, I'd probably stop saying f--k, let alone making f--k. Did he say 'making f--k?'.
• Can we talk about that scene? Can we? If I was ever asked about the worst thing I've ever saw in a movie, my go-to was always the curb stomp from American History X. But I think this f--ker may have finally dethroned the king after all these years. It's not even just the moment, but it's the prelude and the aftermath. Leaving the party that way? Terrible. Then the thing....but then...then when mom finds out in the morning....yep. Worst f--king thing I've ever seen. Hands down. Well, up...actually. Covering my eyes. 
• Oh, and that glimpse we get of the aftermath? It felt like minutes, but I'm assuming it was just a few seconds. My sister says it's close to ten...which is f--king madness. How is that even possible?
• Joan fully okey-doked me. Like, I let my guard down when she was onscreen. And she f--ked me.
• I've never woken up to find one of my parents in my room - which would be scary enough, right? But uh...the way they find Annie one night? Holy. F--king. Hell. 
• You okay, mom? No. No she is not.
• Um, is it cool if I just eat in my room? These dinner-table conversations tend to make me lose my appetite. And mind.
• Is it me, or are seances pretty f--king easy to pull off?
• I'm really bad at gauging how fast I need to read onscreen text, like exceptionally bad. When it's a note or a letter, I'm skimming like a motherf--ker, only to find out I have more time...which I squander and remember nothing. Other times, when it's like a sentence or two, I settle in to each word and only make it half way through and then the character folds the paper or something. My point? Well, I don't have a point. F--k off, I guess?
• So your son has something resembling a full-on psychic meltdown in class, right? Um, should we really bring him home to our haunted f--king house? Was the abandoned pysch in the woods ward too far of a drive? 
• Mom...er, Annie...has got some pretty serious f--king issues. You'd think being able to Princess Leia all over the place would remedy them...but it does not. But c'mon, Mom. No matter what you're dealing with...you gotta keep your head on straight, you know?
• Clearly, I'm burying this, but my main problem with the film is the final twenty minutes. Maybe I had gone to my safe place, but this f--ker escalates things to a nearly unrecognizable level. I don't really know how else it could have ended, but it took a left turn at Crazy Town and headed straight for Devil Dick Drive. Maybe you savvy types understood all the lore (or whatever it was we were seeing), but I felt like somebody said, quick - make this more nightmarish to one person, but everybody on set overheard and went OKAY!
• Looking over my notes, I wrote, on more than one occasion, F--k Me. F--k This. So, yeah. Pretty sure I wanted out.
• And finally, speaking of getting the f--k outta there, what I can assume will be my only screening of Hereditary (outside of asking for it on 4K for Christmas, naturally), I had the worst f--king audience ever. I'm going to assume they were college kids, or a-hole seniors possibly, but whatever the f--k they were, they ruined this sumbitch start-to-finish. Running up and down the stairs like toddlers just mastering steps, constantly going in and out in large groups (with their phones lighting up the room like they were in the front seat of a broken down SUV in Jurassic Park) was f--king brutal enough, but it all could have been forgiven, if just once, maybe for like a three or four minute stretch...they had simply shut the f--k up. Trust me, guys. Nobody wants to hear you speak, probably ever, let alone in a quiet f--king horror movie on a weeknight. If you need to talk to your f--kfaced friends, for the love of God, do it somewhere else. I know you kids like eating each others asses, but the rest of us? We want nothing to do with your shit. Thanks.

You wouldn't think I was dreading writing this post, but I was, simply because I didn't know what I was going to say. How many times can you type Hereditary is super f--ked up? And not really explain why.

But once I started, I basically couldn't stop. It was like I was possessed or something. Which sounds bad, until you realize whatever is controlling me has me typing mostly coherent sentences. Sure, the quality of writing is bad, obviously. 

But it could have been worse. 

Way worse.