Host is not a pandemic movie.
Director Rob Savage made that clear in an interview in which he described it instead as a “lockdown thriller”—a novel take on the screen life subgenre born in the early-to-mid aughts.
The genre was named by Kazakh-Russian filmmaker Timur Bekmambetov in reference to his 2014 horror film Unfriended (directed by Levan Gabriadze), which took place almost entirely during a Skype session on a student’s Macbook. Despite being labeled by a few critics as a bewildering offshoot of the found footage genre (already an easy target for critics), Unfriended did quite well at the box office, especially considering its roughly $1 million budget.
Screen life springs up, unsurprisingly, in response to the widespread impact of screens and internet on our daily lives, and it is clear that the upstart microgenre isn’t going anywhere. Its tenets are fairly simple, if difficult to execute: the action should take place on a screen (specifically one screen, if you’re a purist), the story should take place in real time, transitions should be minimal or hidden, and non-diegetic sound should be subtle-to-nonexistent.
The Shudder-produced Host was born out of a prank and produced while under UK quarantine restrictions. It painstakingly recreates the experience of a Zoom call, right down to the webcam aesthetics, dropped calls and user interface. The premise feels familiar despite the hyper-modern format: a group of friends employ a mystic to lead them through a séance, but an ill-conceived joke invokes something much more sinister than a lost pet or grandparent.
Host thrives on the chemistry and convincing performances of its cast, who have the advantage of being friends in real life. It is also nimbly paced: the film clocks in at a tidy 57 minutes, and it patiently builds tension without ever padding its efficient runtime. When discussing the organic collaborative process that crafted the final product, Savage does not equivocate when it comes to his thoughts on auteur theory—the notion (often perpetuated by film nerds and critics) that the director is the sole author of the film, and the cast and crew are just there to actualize the director’s singular vision. Savage calls this nonsensical “bullshit,” and describes the entire cast of Host as “collaborative co-authors.” I consider myself appropriately shamed.
Without belaboring the point, Host exposes the horrors of quarantine and the damaging simulacrum of human connection in the digital age. It chillingly distinguishes between tangible togetherness and what Savage calls the “exposed isolation” of video chats and social media, connecting us without truly bringing us together. Solitude does not mean that our actions are devoid of consequence (as is tragically illustrated) but it does steal something invaluable and takes a bit of what makes us human. As Savage says: “When push comes to shove, you’re on your own and your friends can only witness what’s happening to you.”