The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw (2020) | Film Review

Audrey Earnshaw takes witchcraft back to 1973

Much like the Irish settlers here in Thomas Robert Lee’s film, 2020 has not been our finest hour. Aside from the obvious, movie buffs have suffered a severe drought of quality horror films. In fact, aside from Dave Franco’s delightful The Rental, very little has come along to terrify us this year that wasn’t already a real-life plague. Thankfully, I’m pleased to report The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw is just the macabre surprise that October needed.

The year is 1973, a year we remember as a turn in history. Vietnam ended, technology was beginning to find its way, and ironically Roe v. Wade established women’s rights. But off in the middle of nowhere lies a tiny, solitary village – settled by Irish Christians in 1873 – and its citizens remain blissfully unwelcoming of society’s advances. Aware of the world’s progress, these settlers prefer to live off the land, travel by horse-drawn wagons, and tend to medical emergencies with the same “rub some dirt on it” philosophy your great-grandparents utilized. They’ve also been under siege from failed crops and dying livestock ever since a mysterious event occurred roughly 17 years earlier.

Miles away outside of town in an isolated farmhouse lies Agatha Earnshaw (Catherine Walker) and her coincidentally 17 year-old daughter, Audrey (Jessica Reynolds). Long kept a secret from those in town, Audrey knows very little of the outside world, as her mother shadows her every whim in order to ensure her existence is under wraps. As her farm has continued to run smooth and fertile, Agatha believes the town would place blame of their own failures squarely on Audrey’s shoulders if they knew of her existence. The town itself – religious zealots that they are – has come to believe that the Earnshaw farm has benefitted not from radiant fertilizer, but is instead a byproduct of evil witchcraft.

Audrey herself is opening up, a rattled rebellion of sorts, discovering the woman hidden within the fragile child her mother asserts her to be, and possibly the powers that lie underneath. When a local, Colm (Jared Abrahamson), blames Agatha’s lack of compassion or assistance for his son’s death, he confronts her on the street, and the town coldly turns on Agatha while Audrey hides helplessly stored in a crate. Upon seeing her mother’s mistreatment and subsequent humiliation, Audrey decides to exact revenge on Colm as well as the entire town. Picture Carrie with a dash of Hocus Pocus.

The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw is stacked with fine performances, but the film succeeds mostly on the backs of its two leads. Walker’s fierce yet frightened portrayal of a mother both protecting her child, and terrified that the townsfolk might ultimately prove right, never once misses its intended cue. Agatha keeps the audience guessing for most of the film as to how much she knows about Audrey’s potential, and that mystery is a testament to the volley of emotions Walker bats back-and-forth throughout the film.

Newcomer Jessica Reynolds tackles a truly difficult task in that we need to root for and against Audrey at any given minute, as the plot shifts allegiances around several times. Reynolds approaches the role with a mix of wild-eyed innocence and hidden menace that purposefully services Lee’s script, and proves the actress worthy as an up-and-comer to watch.

Because of its folksy setting and use of time as a play on progress, the film will undoubtedly result in comparisons to The Village and Midsommar. The assumption is fair, though completely inaccurate. Unlike those previous cinematic mistakes, The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw is fascinatingly entertaining, dripping with dread, tightly paced, and actually worthy of your investment. And in a year like 2020, who has time to waste?

Follow our further discussion on The Curse of Audrey Earnshaw via our latest episode of The Hollywood Outsider podcast: