The Dark Art of Channeling Grief into Cinema: Ian Tuason’s ‘Undertone’ and the Cost of Creative Genius
There’s something hauntingly poetic about a filmmaker predicting their own success, especially when that success is born from the depths of personal tragedy. Ian Tuason’s Undertone isn’t just a horror film—it’s a testament to the transformative power of art, and the emotional toll it exacts. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Tuason, in a moment of almost prophetic clarity, foresaw his mid-seven-figure deal with A24 months before it happened. But here’s the kicker: when the deal finally came, he felt… nothing.
The Prophecy and the Price
Tuason’s prediction, captured in an electronic press kit (EPK) months before the A24 acquisition, is the kind of story Hollywood loves to romanticize. But what many people don’t realize is that this triumph wasn’t just a stroke of luck or genius—it was a survival mechanism. Tuason channeled his grief over losing both parents to terminal cancer into Undertone, a film that blends paranormal horror with the raw, unfiltered reality of caregiving. The result? A screenplay so dark, so personal, that it numbed him to the very emotions it was meant to exorcise.
Personally, I think this is where the true horror of Undertone lies—not in its supernatural elements, but in the quiet, relentless despair of its creator. Tuason’s Evy, a paranormal podcaster grappling with her mother’s illness, is a mirror to his own struggles. The drinking, the denial, the lies—these aren’t just character traits; they’re survival tactics. And when Tuason says he ‘doesn’t feel much’ about the film’s success, it’s not ingratitude. It’s the aftermath of pouring every ounce of himself into something, only to emerge hollowed out.
The Home as a Haunting Ground
One thing that immediately stands out is Tuason’s decision to shoot Undertone in his childhood home—the same place where he cared for his dying parents. This wasn’t just a cost-saving measure (though it certainly helped keep the budget at $500K); it was a deliberate act of confrontation. The house becomes a character in its own right, a physical manifestation of his grief. If you take a step back and think about it, this is the ultimate form of artistic bravery—turning the site of your deepest pain into a canvas for creation.
But here’s where it gets even more intriguing: Tuason didn’t just exorcise his demons; he invited them to stay. The film’s sound design, which has been praised as revolutionary, is a masterclass in psychological manipulation. Tuason worked with RedLab in Toronto to create a soundscape that feels alive, almost sentient. This raises a deeper question: Can sound design become a character in its own right? In Undertone, the answer is a resounding yes.
The Podcast Paradox
Evy and Justin, the film’s paranormal podcasting duo, are more than just characters—they’re a commentary on the modern obsession with true crime and the supernatural. What this really suggests is that podcasts, often seen as a form of escapism, can also be a mirror to our darkest fears. Tuason, a self-proclaimed podcast enthusiast, nails the dynamics of the medium, from the banter to the ASMR-like tones that lull listeners into a false sense of security.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Tuason uses the podcast format to blur the lines between reality and fiction. Evy and Justin exaggerate their beliefs for the show, but their personal struggles are all too real. It’s a clever metaphor for how we all perform versions of ourselves, especially in the digital age.
The A24 Effect
A24’s acquisition of Undertone is more than just a business deal—it’s a cultural moment. The studio, known for its penchant for quirky, boundary-pushing cinema, has a knack for turning indie darlings into mainstream sensations. But what makes Undertone uniquely A24 is its willingness to embrace the uncomfortable. This isn’t a feel-good horror flick; it’s a deep dive into the human psyche.
From my perspective, Tuason’s prediction about A24 wasn’t just a lucky guess—it was a statement of intent. He knew the kind of film he was making, and he knew the audience it would resonate with. But the irony is that by the time A24 came knocking, Tuason had already moved on. He’s sober now, recovered from grief, and seemingly detached from the emotions that fueled Undertone. It’s a bittersweet victory, one that forces us to ask: What happens when the art outlives the artist’s pain?
The Future of Sound in Cinema
Tuason’s experimentation with sound design in Undertone is a game-changer. Christopher Nolan once said that cinema is conservative when it comes to sound, and Tuason’s film is a direct challenge to that notion. The way he uses sound to create tension, to manipulate the audience’s perception of reality, is nothing short of revolutionary.
In my opinion, this is just the beginning. As technology advances, filmmakers like Tuason will push the boundaries even further. Sound won’t just enhance the cinematic experience—it will redefine it. And if Undertone is any indication, the future of horror cinema will be as much about what you hear as what you see.
Final Thoughts
Undertone is more than a film; it’s a case study in the cost of creativity. Tuason’s journey from grief-stricken caregiver to A24 darling is inspiring, but it’s also a cautionary tale. Art can save you, but it can also consume you. As Tuason moves on to his next project, a horror franchise inspired by Undertone, one can’t help but wonder: Will he ever truly escape the ghosts he’s created?
Personally, I think the answer is no—and that’s what makes him an artist. The ghosts will always be there, lurking in the background, waiting for their next close-up. And for that, we should all be grateful.
