Censor (2021)

directed by Prano Bailey-Bond

UK

84 minutes

3.5 stars out of 5

----

Censor opens with a scene that is deeply familiar to us as horror fans: A tired, scared woman running through the woods from an assailant that we do not see, the scene being shot, as it is, from the perspective of her pursuer. Instead of being a re-hashing of an overused trope, though, this scene is decontextualized and framed as deliberate self-reference. Immediately following the dragging away of the girl by her unseen attacker, we switch to watching as the main character of Censor itself decides what about this fictional horror film that she (and the audience) has just been watching is acceptable for distribution, what has to be cut, and what might qualify it for being rejected permanently.

This film takes place in the era of the U.K. "video nasty", when upright British audiences became highly concerned about a perceived "wave" of gory films overtaking their country. The presence of these low-budget movies, with their amateur actors and directors, with their streams of corn-syrup blood and frequently unclothed women, challenged the moral standards of the ruling class at the time. Like the debate about violent video games that would eventually follow it, adults (mostly older adults and parents) saw these films as influencing the "weak-minded" of the country and driving up the crime rate as well as, though this opinion is more veiled, causing people to rebel against the governmental status quo. It's a testament to how widely hated Margaret Thatcher was that films set during her era are still being made, but it is also a testament to how the aims of those in power never really change that these films are often used to highlight, in addition to how bad her time was, how many of the same policies are still in effect today. If not in an official capacity, then in the hearts and minds of conservatives.

I want to be clear here, because "censored" has become a bit of a hot-button word, that this movie does not have the kind of attitude towards censorship that a Donald Trump or a Milo Yiannopoulous does. Censorship in this case doesn't mean the calling out of genuinely hateful, hurtful opinions and a subsequent whining and moaning about it. The censoring of video nasties is portrayed here for what it is: A futile desire to protect the populace from anything that could lead them to believe life under their government isn't rosy perfection. When we see the notepad where the censors write down what to cut, it's not just "take out all instances of blood". It's direct references to emotional concepts like girls suffering, trauma, anguish, et cetera. One could be forgiven, even justified, in wanting their children not to see a certain amount of blood and gore at a young age. But one would be direly misdirected if not actively malicious to want to shield all children everywhere from ever experiencing- or even simply viewing- negative emotions.

So onto the film itself: It is obviously gorgeously made, with a color palette, score, and tendency towards shadows that calls back to the older horror films its characters are loathe to let the public see unedited. Niamh Algar is great as the protagonist and her character is extremely faceted: The eventual breakdown of her calm public face to reveal the traumatic memories that control her life is gently paced and spread out throughout the film, but Algar plays her from the start as somebody who obviously has something eating at them.

The point of this movie seems to be to make the comparison between film censorship and the way we censor our own memories, sometimes unknowingly. The main character has the disappearance of her sister weighing on her mind at all times, and blames herself because she is unable to remember exactly what happened on the day she disappeared. The way she picks and chooses what should be left in the horror films she watches and the way memory is naturally fallible are a mirror to each other. We want to smooth out pain, take away the parts that hurt us. Our personal attempts to make our memories a more welcoming place can sometimes be directed outwards into trying to avoid ever witnessing negativity, although in Censor it's taken to its extreme as we're shown a panel that's attempting to make the whole country avoid it. I've watched many a film that can be said to be a love letter to the horror genre, but I've only seen a very scant few that do what Censor does and use the genre as a way to talk about personal trauma and avoidance.

The only real complaint I have about this movie is that I wish it had been more of what it was. It has a very restrained style, not overly gory despite its subject matter, and it's tightly directed in a manner that I can't complain about at all, but something about it just felt like it needed to be ramped up. The final fifteen minutes are perfect, and I think it's well and good that most of the true paranoia and uncertainty is contained to those minutes, because if it had spilled over into the rest of the film, we would have a different film. But I wish there had been just a tiny bit more harshness throughout the whole thing, not just during the finale. It could have been less ambivalent. The horror here isn't so much a sudden danger as it is a drabness in which atrocities lurk. Again, though- it would be a different film if this wasn't so. Censor is excellent, refreshing and new as it is. It occupies an interesting place in the history of the video nasty and the public's response to it.