by Anthony O'Connor
Worth: $13.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Intro:
Those in the mood for bloody chuckles will probably have an amiable enough time …
We’re all going to die. Every single one of us. You, me, your dog, your cat, the fat baby that wouldn’t shut up in the cinema, even your favourite Youtuber. At some point in our finite existence, the bell will toll, and we’ll shuffle off our mortal coils. It’s a confronting reality that can lead you to embrace the time you have, live in a warm and cheery denial or freak the fuck out. It’s also the subtext of many an effective horror movie.
The latest fright flick to mine existential dread is The Monkey by Osgood Perkins (Longlegs) and it’s a decent enough time, even if it feels a little half baked.Based on a Stephen King short story, The Monkey tells the tale of Hal Shelburn (Christian Convery/Theo James), who along with his twin brother Bill (also Christian Convery/Theo James) runs afoul of an ugly toy monkey. This drum-wielding faux simian seems, at the very least, to be deeply cursed because every time you wind it up and it hits the skins, someone dies in a messy, splattery fashion. As kids, the Shelburn twins manage to dispose of the damn thing, but twenty five years later, that funky monkey mounts a comeback. Can Hal stop the carnage before it hurts him or his son, Petey (Colin O’Brien)? Or will the furry fiend reign triumphant?
The Monkey has a lot going for it, at least initially. The source material is a cracking good read from King’s golden pure horror era, the design of the titular monkey is genuinely creepy, both Christian Convery and Theo James are excellent leading men and the first twenty minutes of the flick is engaging, wry, cynical and skilfully comedic, albeit in a very black sort of way.
The problem is one of tone, as Osgood Perkins never quite seems to know what sort of film he wants to direct. Is this a horror movie with lashings of dark comedy or a comedy with occasional bursts of absurdist violence? It tries to be both, and it leaves the film feeling unfocused and inconsistent. The violence itself, too, is so goofy and over-the-top that it makes the Final Destination movies feel like a Ken Burns documentary.
It’s unfortunate, too, because there are flashes of brilliance here amidst the more bewildering moments, but it all comes off a bit haphazard. Those in the mood for bloody chuckles will probably have an amiable enough time but it’s hard not to mourn the loss of the more focused, impactful film that The Monkey shows tantalising glimpses of.
