When the filmmaking duo of David Charbonier and Justin Douglas Powell chose a pregnant woman as the protagonist of their third feature, they settled on well-trod territory. Pitting a mother-to-be against a villain with fiendish designs on her child, Push invites comparisons to several classics of the horror genre, but it’s only the superficial similarities (and a couple copycat moves) that merit mentioning it in the same breath as Inside or Rosemary’s Baby. This arty chiller ultimately sacrifices believable characters and a cogent plot for the sake of good-looking scenes.
Our very pregnant heroine is Natalie, played by Alicia Sanz. The father of her baby is dead from a car crash and her family back in Spain is unsupportive, so she strikes out on her own as a realtor in, of all places, northern Michigan. Push takes place over the course of one harrowing day as Natalie tries to sell a sprawling, Tudor-style estate with a dark history, only to become trapped in the place by a shadowy psychopath (Raúl Castillo) who wants to cut the baby out of her.
While Push brazenly cribs from the audacious blueprint of Inside (how the baby daddy died, the home invader trying to perform an unauthorized Cesarean), it’s a more restrained affair. There is bloodshed, but for most of its brief runtime, Charbonier and Powell’s movie is composed, artful, and clean. We’re introduced to the setting as Natalie takes a rapturous, minutes-long stroll through the house. She spends many of the scenes that follow in a pristine white dress, replete with pantyhose and matching high heels – a reflection of Push’s strong aesthetic sensibilities, but not exactly the outfit a woman might choose if she anticipated going into labor or fleeing an assailant. In one tense moment, the shoes nearly cost her her life.
That fashionable, put-together appearance is ultimately more a liability than a keen addition to the script. It’s not like it’s an incisive criticism of beauty standards or sexism or anything; Natalie feeling compelled to stay late at the property, alone – rather than invite scrutiny as both the brokerage’s sole female realtor and a coward – is the extent of Push’s capacity for commentary. Instead, Natalie’s appearance feels like an oversight, like Charbonier and Powell have kept their protagonist in pumps mainly because they’ve failed to give her any common sense.
Still, Push looks great: The camera moves sinuously through the house, and tension builds deliciously during the first half as shadows slip in and out of the background. The villain is lit judiciously, his face often obscured, creating a sense of anxiety. But the directors seem to have forgotten that they need to convey information – not just pretty images – to their viewers. It’s easy to lose track of who has what weapons during climactic face-offs, and an intended shocker featuring a driver’s license doesn’t land because we haven’t gotten a good look at the villain’s face yet.
The prim visuals also clash with the plot. The intruder is supposed to be a manic killer, but Push’s predominant feature is control. (There is one scene of cathartic violence at the end, and Sanz is particularly excellent in it.) The question that haunts every home invasion movie – Why is this guy here? – ends up having such a bizarre answer that the whole ordeal feels silly.
It’s frustrating that Push fumbles so hard, given the strength of its craft. We could certainly use more taut, beautifully shot, boundary-pushing movies in the world. Unfortunately, this is a classic case of style over substance. If a movie puts placenta on the screen but still leaves viewers feeling cold, something has gone terribly wrong.