Jack and Jill Went Up the Hill and Won’t Give Up the Ghost: Modern gothic drama “Went Up the Hill” explores grief and codependency.

The gothic ghost story subgenre explores new avenues in Went Up the Hill, a meditative and moody drama from director Samuel Van Grinsven. Set in New Zealand’s South Island, Went Up the Hill takes after its gothic predecessors by setting the mood with grey, fog-covered hills, icy landscapes, and dark, claustrophobic indoor spaces. In this story, the ghost in question (a recently deceased architect named Elizabeth) manifests not in the form of translucent apparitions or shadows in the night, but through the full-body possession of a living being. More accurately, Elizabeth possesses two living beings, inhabiting the bodies of her surviving wife and son in turn. Chilling and emotionally raw, Went Up the Hill explores grief, codependency, and trauma through a vicious power struggle that plays out in a dynamic threesome portrayed by only two lead actors.

L-R: Dacre Montgomery as Jack and Vicky Krieps as Jill in WENT UP THE HILL. Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment.

Dacre Montgomery (Stranger Things) plays Jack, a young man who’s been separated from his birth mother since childhood. Vicky Krieps (Phantom Thread) plays opposite Montgomery as his mother’s recent widow, Jill (hence the name of the movie). Although Jack hasn’t seen or heard from his mother in years, he receives a call from Jill inviting him to attend his mother’s funeral. After receiving a cold welcome from his aunt, Helen (Sarah Peirse), Jack is troubled to learn that Jill has no memory of contacting him. He soon learns that it wasn’t Jill who invited him, but his dead mother, speaking to him from beyond the grave through Jill’s body. Each night after Jack and Jill fall asleep, Elizabeth’s spirit enters one of their bodies so she can communicate with the other, comforting her grieving wife and giving her son the chance to connect with the mother he never knew. What at first appears to be a healing ritual soon becomes a twisted dance of manipulation and codependency, and the grieving son and widow realize that Elizabeth’s intentions aren’t what they seem.

Went Up the Hill is the second feature film from Van Grinsven, who teamed up once again with Jory Anast (his collaborator and co-writer for his first film, Sequin in a Blue Room) to write the screenplay. Drawing inspiration from an image of two mourners looking at a coffin, Van Grinsven and Anast developed a modern gothic tale that is so rich in its themes and so raw in its emotions that you can’t help but assume it must have been a deeply personal project for both writers. There’s a profound authenticity to the story that seems to bear the weight of immense grief drawn from real life. The script isn’t shy about the messy and illogical side of mourning, exploring what it looks like to grieve those who have hurt or disappointed us. While the mood is overall dark and depressing, Went Up the Hill paints a dynamic portrait of grief that explores both light and dark moments. The well-rounded and well-developed story traverses a full spectrum of emotions, from piercing cries of agony to still, quiet moments of forgiveness.

A scene from WENT UP THE HILL. Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment.

But, before the light shines through, there is darkness — lots of darkness. The defining feature of Went Up the Hill is its grim and ghostly atmosphere, solidified by a striking congruency between the sets, location, lighting, cinematography, costumes, and score. Van Grinsven’s vision for the tone and atmosphere of the film is masterfully executed in every aspect, resulting in a movie in which every shot seems to ache with grief and despair. The very landscape on which the story unfolds seems to be frozen in a state of mourning. From the snowy hills and dry grasses to the frozen lake, each element of the scenery evokes a sense of death and despair. The interior spaces (mainly, the massive home which Elizabeth herself designed) are marked by dim lighting, dark decor, and harsh angles. Much like the haunted houses of gothic literature, Elizabeth’s house seems to vibrate with an eerie presence that closes in on Jack and Jill. Director of photography Tyson Perkins (Firestarter: The Story of Bangarra) enhances that sense of presence with claustrophobic framing that highlights the intensity of the performances by Krieps and Montgomery. Each shot is clouded by a blanket of cold grey tones that permeate the story like an infection. Hanan Townshend’s (The Long Game) haunting score transforms the mood from grim and depressing to bone-chilling and otherworldly, creating an aural bridge between the world of the living and the world of the dead with ghostly choirs and eerie vocalizations.

Such an intense mood often comes at a price, and in the case of Went Up the Hill, that price is the pacing. Although the script and performances are brimming with intensity, the film has a slow, nodding pace. The plot and character development rely more on editing, lighting, and sensory details than conversation and action, making the film feel slow. This slowness isn’t necessarily a failure or flaw; in fact, it appears to be rather deliberate. Still, it may be a turnoff for some viewers. Went Up the Hill is a well-crafted film, but that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone. If you prefer edge-of-your-seat thrillers, you won’t find what you’re looking for in Went Up the Hill. The movie asks intriguing questions and paints a remarkable portrait of grief, but it’s not flashy. It requires patience and attention, which are becoming increasingly difficult for audiences to give in the age of scrolling and short-form content.

Dacre Montgomery as Jack in WENT UP THE HILL. Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment.

So, aside from the atmosphere, what makes a slow film like Went Up the Hill worth the watch? In this case, it’s the basic story concept: three human spirits sharing only two bodies, intertwined in a complicated web of codependency and grief. Specifically, it’s the relationship between Jack and Jill that gives the story life and texture. After starting their relationship as complete strangers, Jack and Jill evolve into friends who give each other the companionship and understanding they seek. Yet, at the same time, they need each other in a very selfish way: they are each other’s only link to Elizabeth. Their strange paranormal arrangement quickly becomes complicated and uncomfortable, sparking jealousy and distrust.

This intriguing narrative setup isn’t without its challenges. The first of those challenges is that Krieps and Montgomery, who both give intense and heartbreaking performances in their primary roles as Jill and Jack, must share the role of Elizabeth. They have to convince us that Elizabeth is a singular, distinct person with her own personality and quirks. Both leads are incredibly convincing when they transform into Elizabeth, completely shedding the mannerisms and personalities of their primary characters and adopting an eerie, otherworldly countenance. The issue is that the story doesn’t support the two lead actors in their efforts to convince us that they’re portraying the same person. Elizabeth has very different motives for communicating with Jack and Jill in the afterlife, and she acts very differently in front of them — almost like she’s becoming a different person. At no fault of Krieps and Montgomery, Elizabeth’s fluid personality ruins the illusion that she’s one, singular person possessing both Jack and Jill in turn. It also doesn’t help that the rules and technicalities of this dual possession are undefined and a little inconsistent. During Elizabeth’s first lengthy conversation with her son (while inhabiting Jill’s body), she’s weak and unsettled. She struggles to get a word out, as if she’s still getting used to being in someone else’s body, and she’s apparently bound by a rule that she can only speak if asked a direct question. Yet, in the previous scene, Elizabeth is eloquent and completely at home while in Jack’s body. Her personality becomes more distinct and solidified in the latter half of the film, but these initial inconsistencies make it difficult to suspend disbelief.

The second challenge is one for the director and editor: how to signal that Elizabeth is switching between bodies. With each switch, Jack and Jill collapse dramatically, and the ordeal ends with a close-up of one of the two characters opening their eyes. It doesn’t take long for this pattern to get old — especially in a pivotal scene about halfway through the film in which Elizabeth switches bodies several times in a row. With one dramatic collapse after another, the body switching becomes tedious and overbearing, disrupting the flow of the scene.

Vicky Krieps as Jill in WENT UP THE HILL. Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment.

This scene marks a slight downward turn for the film in general. The plot and thematic development aren’t as steady in the second half, giving way to a predictable “calm before the storm” structure that seems to prolong the ending of an already slow film. When that ending does arrive, it’s not as nuanced as the rest of the movie. In the final moments, one of the characters is literally screaming out the overall “message” or “lesson” of the film before the scene transitions to a dramatic, tear-jerking flashback — a stark difference from the subtle thematic development of the first half.

And yet, the first half of Went Up the Hill is so masterfully put together that even in those weaker scenes, the film still feels genuine. The riveting performances and intense atmosphere draw us into a world of complex pain and grief that feels undeniably authentic. By the time Went Up the Hill comes to a close, we’re deeply invested in Jack and Jill’s story, and we trust that the film is presenting that story in an authentic way — even if the themes are a little too on the nose. By endowing the script with raw emotions and setting the stage with a strong sense of atmosphere, Van Grinsven gives himself the space to play around with a new and unique take on the traditional gothic ghost story. While the execution isn’t flawless, the film’s shortcomings are canceled out by powerful moments of profound humanness.

Available on digital September 26th, 2025.

For more information, head to the official Greenwich Entertainment Went Up the Hill webpage.

Final Score: 4 out of 5.



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