Into the Woods: Babak Anvari for HALLOW ROAD

Fear in the Familiar…

With Hallow Road, writer-director Babak Anvari once again proves his mastery of psychological tension and genre-blending storytelling. From William Gillies’ first feature script, Anvari crafts a claustrophobic thriller that unfolds almost entirely within the confines of a car on a dark, winding road — a setting that not only becomes a familiar physical space but, ultimately, a psychological trap. The film, starring Rosamund Pike and Matthew Rhys, plays like a modern dark fairy tale: a haunting exploration of parenthood, fate, and the monsters we risk becoming in the name of protection.

In this interview, Anvari discusses how Hallow Road bridges family drama, those all-important dynamics, psychological horror, and folk myth; along with how he utilised sound and the textures of film to pull the audience deeper into the characters’ subconscious.

Hallow Road feels like familiar territory for you with the protection of a child, and that crucial parental perspective is also explored in your feature debut, Under the Shadow from 2016. In terms of storytelling, why do you feel so drawn to such potent subject matter in your films, aside from confronting obvious anxieties?

I once read that life itself is traumatic, and the best gift parents can give their children is to live with courage and integrity. That idea fascinates me thematically, because as children we often see our parents as heroes — invincible — but as we grow older, we realise they’re simply human and flawed like everyone else. I’m very interested in that dichotomy — the shock of that realisation that slowly dawns on you. It’s dramatically fascinating to me.

I loved the quietness of the opening shot, which I found somewhat reminiscent of the opening in Alien, setting the scene perfectly through a somewhat imposing internal space displaying scattered (and broken) objects before our characters awake. Were there any other specific films you had in mind while in production? Locke is an obvious one that immediately springs to mind.

Thank you so much for your kind words about the opening shot — comparing it to Alien means a lot. I love that opening as well; it really sets the tone and immediately makes the audience ask: “What happened here?” In terms of references, there were quite a few films on my mind. You mentioned Locke— I love that film — but in a way, it inspired me to do something different. I wanted the camera to be even more intimate, to live inside the car — inside the parents’ personal space. I kept asking myself how we could take the “car film” a step further with Hallow Road. There’s also a strong influence from Iranian cinema — films like Taste of Cherry(1997) and Ten(2002) are part of my cinematic DNA as an Iranian. And of course, we discussed Bergman a lot as a team — not only because of Scenes from a Marriage, which is an obvious reference, but also because of Bergman's fascination with the internal world, psychologically speaking. That exploration of inner landscapes was something we wanted to capture in Hallow Road as well.

Writer/Direcor Babak Anvari.

How did you go about balancing the grounded drama and more heightened fairytale elements?

Early on, I told Rosamund Pike that this story exists in a liminal space — somewhere between our world and “the other” world. Psychologically, it’s the space between consciousness and the unconscious. There are subtle hints that the film takes place on Halloween night, which reinforces that in-between atmosphere. From the beginning, it was our plan to start the film in a grounded, realistic space and then gradually shift into something strange and uncanny. My DP, editor, and sound designers and I discussed at length how to map that transition; how to smoothly shift from one reality to another.

What were the main challenges in approaching both the literal aspects and the more metaphorical parts of the narrative?

The challenge is to get the form, the framework, and the tone right; everything else tends to fall into place after that. From that point on, you’re simply keeping an eye on it — almost like a botanist tending to a delicate plant.

I’m interested to hear more about the choice of digital for interior shots vs. 16mm for exterior. What were the discussions on this early on with cinematographer Kit Fraser?

We decided very early to shoot everything outside the car on 16mm film stock and everything inside the car digitally. The idea was to make the image sharper and colder once we enter the car, creating a clear distinction between the world outside — what I call the “objective world” — and the world inside, which is the subjective world of the parents. It’s as if, when you enter the car, you’re entering their anxious psyche. Kit and I chose 16mm instead of 35mm because of its grain — it makes that shift slightly more noticeable. Even if you’re not technically minded, you can subconsciously feel the change.

 Night drive. Parents Maddie (Rosamund Pike) and Frank (Matthew Rhys) set out to assist their daughter after she is involved in a road accident at Halloween.

We have all driven alone at night. What is it you feel driving into darkness reminds us all of?

For me, it evokes the feeling of falling asleep — or falling into the unconscious — especially as the car leaves the urban lights behind and drives deeper into the countryside and woods.

As a chamber piece, what was Rosamund Pike and Matthew Rhys’ process and preparation for a film that relies so much on their performances?

This wasn’t a big-budget film, but we were lucky enough to have a week of rehearsals. It was me, Rosamund, Matthew, and Megan McDonnell (who plays Alice, the daughter), sitting together, reading the script repeatedly, breaking it down, and discussing ideas. They brought so many valuable insights to the table, and I’d often take those suggestions back to William Gillies, the writer, to refine the script. By the time we started shooting, the script was essentially locked. On the first day of shooting, I told everyone that I wanted to place three cameras on Rosamund and Matthew and film almost the entire story — from the moment they get into the car to near the end — as one long take. It made everyone a bit nervous, but it turned out to be a valuable exercise. As Matthew Rhys said, it helped them shape their emotional arc and gave everyone — cast and crew — a sense of the film’s rhythm. They were all so brilliant that a large portion of that long take ended up in the final cut.

Much of the tension comes from the couple’s conflicting approaches, such as rationality versus emotion. How did you carefully build this with Rosamund and Matthew without descending into too much exposition?

What I loved about the script from the start was how it explores two different styles of parenting: one parent is more rational, the other more emotional. You can’t blame either of them, because when someone you love is in trouble, you’ll do anything to help them. That tension between the couple is something I found incredibly compelling — and having two extraordinary actors brought so much nuance, often through the subtlest facial expressions.

You mentioned you rehearsed all the key actors together, but, as Alice, was Megan McDonnell’s voice performance directed in a different way? I’m curious how she was immersed in the scenario to help carry the distress she was experiencing.

Megan McDonnell was always with us on set. We gave her a small room with a microphone next to the set, which she jokingly called “the trauma booth,” because she had to go in there and relive that trauma over and over again. Rosamund and Matthew could hear her voice as if it were coming through the phone, which allowed them to react in real time. That was the only way to achieve the level of realism we wanted. Megan adjusted her performance from take to take, like any other scene partner — she’s a brilliant, talented, and technical actor.

The film’s emphasis on voices, phone calls, and unseen spaces feels unique to post-pandemic filmmaking — people isolated, connecting only through sound. Was Hallow Road consciously shaped by a Lockdown psychology of distance and disembodied communication?

I can’t speak for William Gillies, but I know that when he graduated from film school, the pandemic had just started. Hallow Road is his first feature script — a real testament to his talent. Perhaps those experiences influenced his writing. By the time the script reached me, though, it was after the pandemic, so that wasn’t on my mind. Still, in today’s world of smartphones and social media, the idea of “disembodied communication” feels very relevant.

In addition to this, it feels that audio storytelling — whether through podcasts, true-crime audio dramas, or immersive sound design — has exploded in popularity. Did that influence how William conceived Hallow Road, especially how it relies so heavily on what is heard rather than seen?

One of the things I’ve always loved about this project is how it puts the audience directly in the parents’ shoes. All they have is their anxiety, imagination, and the panicked voice of their daughter on the other end of the line. That makes it almost an interactive experience. One of my references was The Blair Witch Project— not only because it shares the forest setting, but because it taught me that what you hear in the woods can be just as terrifying as what you see, if not more.

Dead end. Where is Alice?

Since the film plays almost like an extended radio drama (or auditory nightmare), how did you and sound designers Tim Burns and Paul Davies figure out how to engage with the audience?

I would like to say it's more like an auditory nightmare at times rather than a radio drama, because if you close your eyes and just listen, you’d hear things that make no sense without the images. We wanted the sound to evolve just as the visuals do — starting in a grounded reality and becoming increasingly expressionistic. Even the hum of the car engine subtly changes throughout the film. Tim and Paul kept feeding us sounds during the edit, and my editor, Laura Jennings, and I experimented with their samples and gave feedback. That collaboration really helped shape the sonic identity of the film. I’ve always believed that sound design is an essential — and often underappreciated — part of filmmaking.

You’ve alluded to the dynamic of the family that certainly adds a vital layer. What do you feel it is about a mother “in control” and a (seemingly) more passive and sacrificial father that resonates so much here?

Family dynamics are universal, which is why these themes resonate with almost everyone. In this story, I’m not sure either parent is entirely in control — nor are they entirely passive.

Ultimately, the film explores parental control versus teenage autonomy. How did you visualise that shifting balance?

This connects back to the first question. As children, we often see our parents as “perfect", but at some point, we realise they’re just as flawed as everyone else. That realisation can lead to rebellion — it’s part of growing up, of pushing boundaries, and of stepping into the real world. I’ve heard many seasoned parents say, “If you think the baby stage is hard, wait until the teenage years,” and I find that fascinating — it’s when angst and rebellion truly emerge.

For sure. With this in mind, it’s interesting that the parents’ need to protect Alice becomes almost obsessive. Do you see that as heroism, denial, or something darker?

There’s also a fairy tale quality to the story that I love — a bit like Sleeping Beauty, where the king and queen desperately try to change their child’s fate. The parents in Hallow Road are doing something similar: acting out of heroism, love, and care, but also denial and obsession. Those emotions coexist — and sometimes, if practiced obsessively, they can lead to something darker.

Through the cover-up of the hit-and-run, guilt and accountability are major undercurrents. As well as obvious moral choices — specifically under pressure — what else would you hope audiences take away from watching Hallow Road?

Maybe also that what goes unsaid — especially within families — can lead to chaos. It’s a reminder to listen to the people we love, to try to understand them, and to be patient whenever we can. Because sometimes, that realisation comes a little too late.

You can find out more about Babak and his productions over at Two &Two Pictures and follow via Instagram. Hallow Road opens in the US this Halloween, October 31st.