Rating: 5/10
Director Osgood “Oz” Perkins landed on the horror scene with last summer’s “Longlegs.” He immediately struck audiences as a filmmaker harboring a specific — albeit bloody — vision.
As a certain character proclaims in “The Monkey’s” half-climactic gorefest of a finale, “Everybody dies, and that’s f—ed up.”
Returning director Perkins is woefully familiar with absurd indifference to death. His father, Anthony Perkins, of “Psycho” fame, was a high-profile fatality of the AIDS epidemic. His mother, actress Berry Berenson, died in the Sept. 11 attacks.
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All this is to say that Perkins is no stranger to tragedy, a trait he gives to “The Monkey’s” protagonists. Hal and Bill Shelburn are grief-stricken twin brothers, played by Christian Convery as teens in flashback shots and Theo James in the present. The titular “monkey that likes killing (their) family” was a parting gift from their absentee father. The creepy, wind-up monkey toy has inexplicable supernatural powers.
The monkey is responsible for most of the film’s highly stylized carnage, as poorly-placed firearms and electrified swimming pools make up most of “The Monkey’s” runtime. Perkins’ blunt and comedic portrayals of death make for an admittedly enjoyable moviegoing experience. You can only get so tired of watching people explode, combust or dissolve in various ways.
Made clear from its opening minutes, “The Monkey” is just as much comedy as horror. This makes for a striking departure from the Stephen King short story acting as the film’s source material.
The Shelburn matriarch Lois, played by actress Tatiana Maslany, makes for a fantastic supporting character. She remarks on the grisly nature of her family’s curse with the same matter-of-fact indifference as the film itself.
The gallows humor winding it up should make for a killer 90 minutes and leading man (men?) James plays well with its quietly absurdist script. “The Monkey” makes a half-hearted attempt at sincerity that undercuts its effectiveness on just about every front.
A small road trip between Hal and his estranged son Petey sets the stage for Perkins’ parade of tragedy. Unfortunately, this undercooked subplot about fatherhood and resentment overstays its welcome.
Mining substance from tragedy is a common movie trope, but a lack of willingness to engage with the text leaves “The Monkey’s” drumbeat ringing hollow. The narrative emphasizes the more saccharine shades of the Shelburns for increased dramatic and emotional tension. Even the surprisingly believable performance by “White Lotus” alum James as mild-mannered everyman Hal couldn’t keep this script afloat.
Mileage may vary on the self-reflective resentment-turned-forgiveness that Perkins offers at the heart of “The Monkey.” The occasional disintegrated or decapitated body makes for a consistently amusing, if not somewhat iterative, horror romp.
Perkins wouldn’t be the first director to look for meaning in the less-than-developed Stephen King short fiction canon. This brief look into his bloody toy box of a brain is as mixed of a result as they come.
