Director: Osgood Perkins
Stars: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery
As the son of Anthony Perkins and Berry Benson, Osgood Perkins knows a thing or two about sudden, horrible death. I’m not about to play armchair psychologist when looking at his body of work – all horror, all in some manner fixated with the devil – and suggest he’s working through some shit creatively (aren’t we all working through some shit?). But it’s a conclusion laying in wait, especially on watching his latest offering, this expansion of a 1980 Stephen King short story, arriving hot on the heels of last year’s breakout success Longlegs.
Narrated in dryly sardonic fashion by Hal Shelburn (Theo James), it tells of a cursed wind-up drummer monkey. Turn the key in it’s back and the otherwise inanimate gizmo will seemingly choose a victim. When the mechanism brings the drumstick down, some unholy death will occur. But you can’t dictate who should die. The monkey decides that.
Flashing back to 1999 the first act flies through the family’s first interactions with this grinning monstrosity. Hal and his twin brother Bill (Christian Convery in a dual role) come to suspect that this heirloom from their long-absconded father (Adam Scott) is more powerful than it first appears. Children have a greater capacity for accepting the fantastic in the world – something King utilises a lot in his work – and The Monkey faithfully taps into that. 25 years later, Hal is estranged from his family and assumes the monkey is long dealt-with, until he receives a chilling phone call that pries open old doors once more.
If Longlegs was A Film, The Monkey is A Movie. The former – like much of Perkins’ work – aspired to loftier things, presenting as a suffocatingly austere (complimentary) police procedural before revealing it’s more batshit inclinations. The Monkey shows no such pretense. Laced with goofy comedy and heavy-handed messaging right from the start, this is the loosest we’ve found Perkins in his career. A kind of black-lunged exhale. It actually suits him pretty well. There’s no pretext that the glaring metaphors for mortality and fatherhood are going to be presented with subtlety. Nothing‘s going to be presented subtly in this bloody Final Destination riff, so just enjoy the carnage. Indeed, there’s an invitation for a kind of catharsis here. Perkins extends a hand to us and says its okay to laugh about death sometimes; it’s fucking scary so let’s eke some fun out of it.
If The Monkey feels less precious than past works, it isn’t sloppy. Or, rather, it isn’t unwittingly careless (there’s some deeply dumb – but knowingly dumb – character work in here). The special effects are enjoyable gloopy and revolting as befits the tone. But performances are at a high watermark, too. James makes Hal a recognisable lifelong loser, filled with sad resignation and tightly angry about it, too. He offsets this with far broader work as the developmentally arrested Bill. Both feel in tune with Perkins’ relaxed flex. And, frankly, young Christian Convery impresses the most, as I’d assumed actual twins were cast for the adolescent siblings. Colin O’Brien puts in decent work also, as Hal’s own estranged son, Petey, brought along for the ride. Their relationship hits a lot of broad strokes… but also manages to feel deftly relatable. A tricky balance to maintain.
It isn’t all roses, and it can feel as though there’s a glass ceiling of irreverence that The Monkey can’t quite clear. Cameos from Scott, Elijah Wood and Perkins himself feel like stunty tidbits that don’t much serve the ‘reality’ of the film (which feels ridiculous to write, but hey). Perkins leans once or twice into one of the more ineffective clichés of modern pop horror – the CG-enhanced yawning mouth (please stop this, everyone). And, as has been already evidenced by early reactions across social media platforms, the cocky tone throughout will either charm or outright annoy. We have a term in the UK – “marmite movie” – and that will almost certainly apply to The Monkey, teeing up one of the year’s more divisive horror outings for sure.
But, frankly and personally, I had a good time. Perkins tackles daddy issues from both ends of the spectrum with something approaching smarts, and his darkly giddy approach to accepting mortality gave plenty of rueful smiles. And, as a belated champion of the oft-reviled Halloween Ends, I was also overjoyed to spot that film’s Rohan Campbell in an indulgently goofy role.
Oh, and hold on for the very end of the credits. It seems Neon and Osgood Perkins are a partnership made in heaven (or hell…) as there’s more in store from them later on in 2025…
The Lost Highway Hotel 