Content Warning: sexual assault

The concept of a sexually transmitted curse of a shapeshifting pursuer that can only be eluded by passing it onto another person has terrified, surprised, and haunted audiences ever since its 2014 premiere at the Cannes Film Festival. On its 10th anniversary, It Follows continues to be one of the most stylish and iconic horror outings of the century. It’s also one of the most widely misinterpreted films of its kind. Since it came out, audiences and critics have tried to grasp it as a metaphor for STDs in relation to the slasher sub-genre’s “sexual disgust.”

However, the carefully placed thematic patterns in the narrative suggests that it is concerned about something else. Following its teenage characters as they try to make their way out of their cursed situation, the filmmakers make some conscious decisions about character psychology and the production design’s nostalgic quality in order to convey that the shapeshifting demon might actually represent losing your innocence in a traumatic experience.

There is a striking deliberate choice in the narrative’s focus. It Follows is foremost a film about young-adults, with emphasis on the “young.” The actual adults themselves do not function as causal agents or central figures in the film. Even in that short moment where we hear the Height family’s mother talking to a friend, the framing doesn’t take her face in—rather the camera selectively focuses on somewhere else. Thus, the film makes its aim clear as it focuses on the teenagers’ perspective by eliminating the adult factor—perhaps also to indicate this journey is experienced without their control.

Often, films tend to foreshadow their central themes in the opening sequence. Good films do this in less direct ways, feeding on imagery and associations. The story opens up in a suburb—far from the chaos of the city and a place of comfort. A young woman runs away from her house, which we learn is her family’s house after her father yells after her in concern. She takes the car and runs off far away to a lake, where in her last moments, she calls her parents to apologize and say that she loves them. The sequence then ends with death. What we take away from these first four minutes is that this is a narrative of separation from the world one knew from their childhood and how that separation can lead to deadly results. 

The film expands on this theme through the protagonist Jay’s involvement with the curse and harsh journey into adulthood. Before the introduction of “it,” the film takes its time to set up the background for the character. The shot opens up with a camera pan on the sidewalks where children’s hands once drew small illustrations and a hopscotch game. This is an environment filled with grass and trees, a place the city’s pollution hasn’t affected yet. And of course, it’s in the suburbs. We see Jay in the pool, just swimming in the middle, in comfort as birds and squirrels are playing their small games. This is an innocent, almost childlike environment where nothing can go wrong. Even the pool, in its water-filled comfort, recalls  through Freudian ideals the relaxed and safe environment of the mother’s womb—that is until the film progresses and the water becomes a more dangerous place. 

It is undeniable that there is a nostalgic quality to the production design. On the old CRT TV, black and white science fiction films play out, while on the streets, classic cars are parked in the alleys. We see a shell-reader in Yara’s hands—a technology which never existed. There is also Disasterpiece’s synth score, an homage to classic horror films like Halloween. In engaging with retro aesthetics and setting up a nostalgic tone, David Gordon Mitchell reminds the viewer of childhood, which is something that the characters will lose throughout the film. 

On their first date, Jay and Hugh—who passes the curse to Jay—play a “trading places” game where Jay asks Hugh who he would trade places with. The answer is a small child whose “whole life is in front of him” and who doesn’t need to worry about anything. Hugh has the curse by this point; in the film’s code, he is an adult. As such, he always lives under the dread that he can die at any time by the hand of the “it,” which may be death, in its inevitable self.

After they have sex in the car—which is Jay’s first time—she hazily delivers a monologue, remembering a time when she could only dream of going on dates while childishly playing with a poppy. Then, of course, the horrors enter the story when she gets knocked out by Hugh. The scene plays out in a long take, with a violent tone, showing the act in its entirety. Hugh then ties Jay up as he explains the curse to her, taking away her control. Finally, he drops her off in the middle of the road in front of her house. 

There is something very vulgar about how these scenes play out. The police officer asks Jay in the aftermath: “Was it consensual?” Jay nods yes. But there is obviously something wrong in the way the police are there and how the neighborhood is watching her. The sex in the scene was consensual, yes, but the violence obviously wasn’t. There is no consent in the way the curse isn’t known by Jay beforehand either. The associations created through the mistreatment of the character indicate that “it” represents sexual assault, without pinpointing what “it” is. That traumatic experience becomes embodied by “it.” It is a harsh way to realize life’s cruelty, and there is a sense of dread which follows like the “it” of the film. Nevertheless, the director behind the camera is sympathetic towards his character and allows her to grow up and fight the trauma. 

“Something’s wrong with me,” says Jay. She is shown examining her body in front of the mirror in an effort to understand herself in the aftermath of the assault. Trauma obviously leads to a sense of psychological estrangement of the self, but the character will go on to live on despite the sense of dread that follows. Her sister and friends support her but can not see “it” or do not seem to fully understand what is going on. Those who do are people who have experienced the curse before, making them survivors of sexual assault in a way, too. Those who do not believe in these people’s experiences with “it”—like Gregg who doesn’t take Jay’s warnings seriously after the curse is passed onto him—are the ones who get punished. In that way, the film can be also seen as an anti-victim-blaming narrative in its own slasher code. 

The locations the characters travel to after this point are places they have been to in their childhood, but the comfort they seek is now subverted into potential places where “it” can pursue them. For instance, the beach they go to is a body of water which, in contrast with the Freudian womb association of the pool from before, becomes a place where they can be attacked. This is as if to say that the baby has grown now, and if she stays in it any longer, the womb will suffocate her. As an adult, the solace found in comfort zones is significantly diminished, providing an imperative to find ways to overcome danger. 

That is precisely why the characters go to the childhood pool to defeat “it.” The pool is where Jay remembers first being kissed by Paul; it is a place which provided a small step towards adulthood, but nevertheless, it remains a place of childhood memories. Even the director agrees that the plan is “childish.” Yet, given that they are still young, they can only deal with things in the ways that they know. It is a childish way to achieve adulthood. The pool is where Jay is most comfortable, so through her control in the environment, she has more chances of beating “it.” However, there still are some obstacles in Jay’s path. That is why “it” takes the form of her father, but the comfort of the figure is deceptive. As in the metaphor for the mother’s womb, the child needs to break away from the parents to have her own autonomy.

After beating “it,” Jay and Paul have sex for the first time. Paul asks if she feels any different, and she says she doesn’t. In the end, we see them walking together, holding hands. Jay obviously faced—and in some ways, overcame—the trauma, but there still is an uncertainty towards the rest of life. She has learned that she is not invincible and can get hurt, that there is always danger and death waiting around the corner. That’s why Yara reads an excerpt from Dosteyevski’s The Idiot:

“But the most terrible agony may not be in the wounds themselves but in knowing for certain that within an hour, then within ten minutes, then within half a minute, now at this very instant—your soul will leave your body and you will no longer be a person, and that is certain; the worst thing is that it is certain.”