Resurrection (2022) | Film Review

From its opening scene, Resurrection wants to solidify the basic undercurrent of its concept: this is a film revolving around the emotional turmoil a traumatic relationship can take on someone. Margaret (Rebecca Hall) is a determined, confident, and fierce professional sitting comfortably in her position of power offering stern advice to an intern suffering through a severely toxic relationship. Margaret’s counsel is concise and pointed – leave him, now.

Margaret minces no words at the office, nor does she tolerate any relationship normalcy of her own as she carries on a very casual affair with a married co-worker. Her only noticeable area of weakness is when it comes to her beloved daughter, Abbie (Grace Kaufman). That all changes when David (Tim Roth), seemingly a past flame of Margaret’s, returns. Popping up first at a work conference, then on a local park bench, and instantly Margaret is frazzled. Paranoia begins to set root, and we start to see Margaret’s own historic trauma flowering every corner of her otherwise idyllic life.

Writer and director Andrew Semans takes a rather large swing with Resurrection, particularly as the third act veers almost into 80s B-movie horror territory (it’s a compliment), with a bonkers ending that could easily be hotly dissected for hours afterward. But at the film’s core, this is a tale of the long-term effects of one partner’s stellar manipulation in a romantic relationship where the other party realized far too late in the game that they needed to vacate the premises.

The tension Semans holds in the film stems primarily from our own deeply held prejudices and missteps, as we all have stayed a bit too long in a doomed romance, and many of us have allowed an ex to destroy an aspect of our personalities in a dangerous pursuit of love and acceptance. Many people successfully repair those damaged emotions, while others like Margaret, wear them as an undershirt, only exposing the depth of those scars at her most vulnerable. It is a well-constructed screenplay, slowly ramping up Margaret’s neurosis, culminating in an absolutely insane finale that will keep audiences talking (or screaming) long after it ends.

There are no poor performances here, and Tim Roth once again excels as a man who seems both charming enough to have never done the things Margaret accuses him of, while also coming across as EXACTLY that type of maniac. Roth is an enigma of an actor who can merge empathy with disgust in equal strides, and David is no exception.

That said, Resurrection belongs to Rebecca Hall. The entirety of the film is seen through Margaret’s eyes, but more importantly her psyche. Hall’s interpretation of the character in Resurrection’s first 15 minutes is pivotal to how impactful the next 90 or so are going to be.

Margaret is no one to be trifled with, and Hall leaves no doubt in our minds how fearless Margaret is. Yet, the very second Margaret glimpses David across a crowded room, every ounce of insecurity and emotional torture this character suffered through is painfully evident with a mere glance at Hall’s heightened reaction. Margaret’s downward spiral rings through with honesty and truth because Hall delivers such a heartbreakingly beautiful performance, one which imbues Resurrection with the trust necessary to carry us through the chaotic weirdness that quickly follows suit.

Whether David is truly an ex returning to stalk Margaret or whatever else is happening in Resurrection would be details too spoilery to reveal. Just know that however outlandish or audacious this tale might get, we are completely safe and secure in Rebecca Hall’s most assured hands.