According to Jewish folklore, a dybbuk is a malevolent spirit that possesses the body of a living human until it accomplishes its goal or is exorcised. While dybbuks have had a presence in popular media since the 1930s, more recent instances of them have emerged in films like The Possession. Now, in a different manner, the dybbuk emerges once again in the Danish film Attachment, and rather than serve as a traditional horror film filled with jump scares, the story that unfolds is a queer love story that revolves around family and Jewish tradition — although it’s not without its share of unsettling moments.
Maja (Josephine Park) is an actress who was once well-known, but now settles for small gigs at bookstores performing to underwhelmed children. One day, she bumps into the Jewish academic Leah (Ellie Kendrick) at a bookstore, and sparks begin to fly. After a passionate night together, Leah has a seizure the next morning and injures her leg, prompting her to return to London. Maja, who has little to lose professionally and doesn’t want their time together to end prematurely, decides to join her newfound love there. She promptly meets Leah’s mother, Chana (Sofie Gråbøl), who lives in the downstairs flat and gives Maja a chilly reception from the start. As time progresses, Maja becomes suspicious of Chana’s behavior and begins to think she might be causing Leah harm. Maja soon learns that the reality of the situation is far worse than what she ever imagined, and she’ll have to come up against a dybbuk in order to save the woman she loves.
Writer/director Gabriel Bier Gislason’s film works on multiple levels. At its core, Attachment is about a woman trying to learn more about her new partner by trying to better understand her girlfriend’s family and Orthodox Jewish traditions. All of it seems foreign and difficult for her to grasp, and she often comes off as a “fish out of water” around Leah’s family. At the same time, something even more foreign and frightening with the dybbuk is happening around her that exacerbates all of this uncertainty, amplifying her sense of not belonging. Gislason’s choice to tell the story through the lens of this outsider allows the audience to feel equally curious about the mysteries surrounding Leah’s family, making the film a compelling watch.
The title of this film works on multiple levels as well. Chana and Leah’s relationship seems codependent to the point where their attachment to each other is unhealthy, much like the way in which the dybbuk has a negative attachment to their family. The combination of these human and supernatural elements are flawlessly intertwined, complementing each other in a way that feels naturalistic and engaging. This is accomplished with a talented cast and script that knows what to prioritize. At times, the pacing lags and the film takes a bit too long to explain what is truly happening with Leah, but it makes up for it by having some poignant moments near the end that tie the themes in the film together nicely.
Filled with attention to detail and heart, Attachment has a charm about it that is all its own. It’s intimate in its presentation, confident in its choices, and unique in its voice. While the film is centered about the relationships in the film far more than any attempts to frighten the audience, enough dark moments unfold to keep horror fans intrigued — especially those who enjoy horror with some traditional folklore thrown into the mix.
—Andrea Riley