Aster sets the tone immediately with an opening shot — a slow zoom out, followed by a creeping pan and a zoom in toward a miniature model of our character's house — that imposes an omnipotent feeling that courses throughout the film and infects our reading of the material. It's impossible to not get a sense of the ominous fatalism at work, or to view the family as anything other than miniature figures, mere powerless pawns caught in the gears of a hopelessly evil machine. Aside from the moments of ghastly imagery, the film's most disturbing quality stems from this constant looming resignation that hangs above the characters, which we know from the very start (through Aster's incredible opening shot) will not end favorably.

With the tone established, we enter into the lives of the Graham family (played by Toni Collette, Gabriel Byrne, Alex Wolff, and newcomer Milly Shapiro) in the wake of burgeoning tragedy, i.e. the death of Annie's (aka Toni Collette's) mother, who we learn has a complicated relationship with Annie and her family. From here, Aster sets the stage wherein all hell is allowed to break loose; however, like the masters that Aster scholarly studies (Roman Polanski, Peter Greenaway, and Stanley Kubrick), he does not play his hand all at once. Much like Kubrick's The Shining, he continues to up the ante in subtle and increasingly more disturbing ways, which are not always as obvious as you may think.