Everyone faces death, and that’s just part of existence. This recurring phrase in Oz Perkins’ darkly twisted film “The Monkey” encapsulates its central theme: the harsh reality of life, a truth the filmmaker understands deeply. Known for works like “The Blackcoat’s Daughter,” “I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House,” and “Longlegs,” Perkins may be adapting a Stephen King short story, but he’s also weaving his own narrative in this bizarre horror/comedy that explores the world's cruelty. While many viewers might draw parallels to “Final Destination,” those films had a glimmer of hope, showcasing characters who often managed to evade death. In “The Monkey,” however, there’s no escaping it. Death is inevitable, and it promises to be chaotic.
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From the outset, Perkins skillfully manipulates tone, distinguishing “The Monkey” from his more serious works. If the grindhouse-style credits don’t hint at the film’s nature, the image of a bloodied Adam Scott clutching a toy monkey certainly will. Skipping an origin story, the film opens with a broken man who now dreads a child's toy, effectively setting the tone for the black comedy that follows and showcasing Perkins’ confidence as a director. This toy monkey, ominously banging a drum, heralds unimaginably brutal fates. What more could you ask for?
Following that intriguing introduction, “The Monkey” quickly shifts gears to present us with twins Hal and Bill Shelburne, portrayed by Christian Convery as children and Theo James as adults. They stumble upon their father's toy monkey, despite having witnessed its destruction earlier—definitely a bad omen. When they wind the key on its back, it leads to a horrific incident involving their babysitter later that evening. They soon realize that each time they turn the key, someone meets a grim fate, including their jaded mother, played by Tatiana Maslany. In a desperate attempt to rid themselves of the monkey, they even toss it down a well, but it resurfaces years later, creating a rift between the brothers and unleashing further chaos.
And I truly mean chaos. Perkins is reveling in the challenge of devising creative ways to eliminate characters. One particularly memorable scene features a shocking death in an electrified swimming pool, while another showcases a nearly cartoonish level of destruction when a woman's head ignites. This isn’t meant to be taken as seriously as most moments in “Longlegs,” yet it generates a unique kind of tension, hinting that death is not only unavoidable but lurking just outside your door as you read. Death isn’t merely coming for us; it’s tired of the usual methods and seeks to be more imaginative this time around. Perkins continuously raises the stakes with his film’s quirky brand of madness. With fires, beheadings, and a well-placed shotgun, it feels as though death has developed a sense of humor in this film.
Perkins may have come to the realization that the best way to cope with sorrow is to find humor even in the face of death. This narrative is as much about Perkins as it is about King, especially considering the profound loss experienced by Anthony Perkins' son when his mother, Berry Berenson, tragically died in the 9/11 attacks aboard American Airlines Flight 11. Was there a twist of fate that day? While understanding this context isn't necessary before watching “The Monkey,” it certainly adds depth to the experience, and the theme of absent fathers could be linked back to Osgood’s connection with Anthony if one chooses to explore that angle. (Though “Longlegs” more directly focuses on Anthony, this film centers on Berry. Despite their tonal differences, they make for an excellent double feature.)
Perkins has always displayed a strong command of filmmaking, but “The Monkey” showcases some of his most visually captivating scenes, infused with a sense of menace by Nico Aguilar, and expertly edited by Graham Fortin & Greg Ng (who also worked on “Longlegs”). “The Monkey” moves swiftly, making the most of its concise 98-minute runtime. There’s no excess here, a refreshing contrast to many contemporary horror films and adaptations of short stories.
The personal elements surrounding Oz Perkins enhance the appreciation for this clever film, which also seems to challenge the “explainer” trend in elevated horror. Yes, it revolves around the filmmaker’s mother—how could it not?—but it also delves into the arbitrary cruelty of life, which can take a mother away from her child as easily as turning a key in a toy monkey. Sometimes, even in the face of death, laughter is needed.
Opens on February 21st.
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