de facto film reviews 1 star

Last year’s thriller Longlegs, from writer/director Osgood Perkins, was among the biggest successes of last year, garnering strong critical and commercial acclaim, grossing over $125 million on a budget of just $10 million. The ominous serial killer thriller had a unique marketing hook creating plenty of mystery and intrigue around the film, made by an indie studio who’s primarily known for their awards contenders. Perkins returns less than a year later, adapting a short story by Stephen King, in what should have been a surefire slam dunk, but is instead an enormous disappointment.

Courtesy Neon

As a child, young Hal (played by Christian Convery) and his twin brother, Bill (also Convery), stumble upon an old “Organ Grinder Monkey” antique in their father’s attic. Their father, who went missing some years ago, has left behind all his belongings and childhood toys, but strangely this monkey doesn’t come from his youth and their mother (Tatiana Maslany) has never seen it before. When the key on its back is turned, the monkey activates by banging its drum, causing someone to die Rube Goldberg-style. The boys turn the key one too many times and people close to them die. Unable to destroy the toy, Hal and Bill manage to chain it up and bury it at the end of a well, causing the killings to stop. Flash forward 25 years later, we find Hal (Theo James) is now a deadbeat dad to his son Petey (Colin O’Brien) and no longer has contact with his twin brother. Somehow, a strange killing in the family signals the return of the evil monkey, causing the brothers to reconnect in order to stop it once and for all.

Writer/director Osgood Perkins’ latest film is all about laughing in the face of death, but Perkins is the only one laughing here, For a story with the morbid sense of humor stemming from the likes of Tales From the Crypt, The Monkey has none of the finesse or skill in how to juggle its many tones. With its “everybody dies” snarky attitude, no genuine stakes are built, rendering the film inconsequential. There are occasional bits of humor that work, but Perkins’s overwhelmingly smug attitude smothers any minor burst of dark comedy. The deaths are quite gory and outrageous, but unlike the Final Destination franchise, which made this the series’ signature, there is no build up or suspense to the kills. So many of the film’s biggest punch lines are flat-out rigid in their delivery. Perkins doesn’t seem to care about crafting scares or lasting shocks, and the erratic nature of the humor leaves too many dull, self-serving jokes. There are brief attempts at stylization, namely a couple of dream sequences that aim to call to mind The Big Lebowski, but they feel out of place.

Courtesy Neon

The uneven humor mixed with Stephen King’s existentialism leaves a bizarre taste. This story has shades of truth about the randomness of death and grief, but the script has no texture or genuine emotion. Perkins’ overt cynicism comes off as ugly and the half-assed emotional crux of the film makes the second half feel especially lifeless. Perkins doesn’t seem to invest much into his characters, making the eventual mid-point twist to land with excessive eye rolls. Whenever the plot takes over the film, you’ll be hard-pressed not to immediately check out.

Theo James is a solid actor, but he’s miscast in two roles. James’ performance as Hal comes out the best, but he’s such a thinly veiled character that consistently makes dumb decisions that exist only to advance the plot. We’re not given much reason to care for him, and his strained relationship with his son often comes across as an afterthought. The less said about James’ turn as Bill the better. Adult Bill comes into the film as a one-note plot mechanic that never once feels real. Perkins attempts to wedge in throughlines regarding childhood loss and the cruel reality of death, but such little care goes into developing these themes.

Courtesy Neon

The Monkey is a thrill-less, smug and empty film that feels like a bad comic laughing at their own jokes. Setting aside the brief flourishes of black comedy, the latest from Osgood Perkins comes across like a Creepshow segment that’s been stretched over an hour past its limit. This is a gratingly snarky film from a filmmaker who typically has better taste.

The Monkey is now playing in theaters.