Continuing this year’s Glasgow Film Festival, Luna Carmoon’s debut feature Hoard is a haunting and visceral portrait of grief, trauma, and sexuality.
The film unfolds in two parts. We first meet our protagonist, Maria, as a perplexed ten-year-old plagued by her mother’s obsessive-compulsive hoarding. Cynthia, played by Hayley Squires, takes her daughter on late-night scavenger hunts through the street of south-east London, looking for new additions to what she affectionately coins her ‘catalogue of love’. Home soon resembles a conglomeration of orange peels, balls of tinfoil, and dead rats.
Lily-Beau Leach’s portrayal of Maria becomes accustomed to this set-up, completely enthralled by her mother’s devotion to her despite her mental illness. It is a heartbreaking and nuanced look into the ways in which love and trauma intertwine, as Maria grapples with feelings of belonging, shame, and guilt all at once. The cinematography serves the film so beautifully despite its grotesqueness; from the mice under the sofa to the cans in the bathroom hanging like a shower curtain, it’s as if you can almost smell the film (while not the most pleasant experience, it does transport us right into their world).
Fast forward to 1994, and Maria, now played by Saura Lightfoot Leon, is a school leaver, living with foster ‘mum’ Michelle, depicted by Sex Education’s Samantha Spiro. Both put on an excellent performance – Leon’s Maria is both tender and gritty, and Spiro is a lovely, warm presence in the film.
It is the unexpected reminder of her mother and the entrance of Joseph Quinn’s Michael, however, that really pushes Hoard to its climax, sending Maria into a desperate frenzy to recreate the comfort and turbulence of her past. The two embark on an almost animalistic affair, and the chemistry between them is undeniable. There is one scene where they are play-fighting with each other, and, although there is no dialogue, it’s arguably one of the loudest moments in the whole film.
Hoard isn’t afraid to be disturbing and just plain absurd – in fact, it relishes in its moments of pure filth. The intricacies of Maria and Michael’s relationship are best left unsaid – but I will warn you that if you found those scenes in Saltburn a bit too much, then this one might not be for you.
Ironically, the film is at its most coherent and filtered in its first half when its characters are tip-toeing around a living room filled with junk. There were a few points during its final hour where I started to wonder which direction it was going to take, and some questionable decisions concerning the pacing didn’t really help. It almost seemed like Carmoon had so many ideas that – like Cynthia – she too didn’t really know what clutter to throw out, but the resolution was so well-executed that it was hard to remain upset about it.
A project that seemed undeniably personal for Carmoon – something that is confirmed as she features a home videotape in its closing credits – Hoard is unapologetically abrasive, and a fine new addition to the world of eccentric indies and kitchen-sink dramas that precede it.
Editor-in-Chief.
Fourth year English and Creative Writing and Politics and International Relations student.
Leave a Reply