In a cinematic landscape saturated with relentless horror, the film “Longlegs,” which debuted last summer, managed to leave a more lasting impression than the typical fleeting fright. This serial-killer mystery carved out a uniquely eerie ambiance, largely buoyed by Nicolas Cage’s standout performance. Sporting long hair and heavy makeup, Cage portrayed a flamboyant, androgynous ringmaster reminiscent of Witchiepoo from “H.R. Pufnstuf,” amplifying the film’s unsettling atmosphere.
“Longlegs” successfully introduced Osgood Perkins, the 50-year-old son of Anthony Perkins, as a notable voice in horror. However, my enthusiasm for the film wasn’t as fervent as that of many others. Its most chilling moments emerged from Cage’s performance. Yet, as the plot unfolded, it became clear we were watching what turned into an overdone supernatural tale featuring an occult doll. While Perkins showcased undeniable talent and drew inspiration from classic sources like “Manhunter,” the film ultimately felt like a tantalizing mood piece veiled in gimmicks rather than genuine substance.
Eager for Perkins’ next project, I anticipated a continued exploration of the themes he touched on in “Longlegs.” However, “The Monkey”—an adaptation of Stephen King’s 1980 short story—falls short of its predecessor’s promise. Instead, it presents a clumsy and overt narrative devoid of the necessary emotional depth that a horror film should possess. The tone Perkins opts for this time lacks the subtle creepiness of “Longlegs,” leaning instead towards a harsh and cynical brand of humor that fails to engage. “The Monkey” feels like a chaotic display of exaggerated violence, centered around the absurd rivalry between two twin brothers.
The film kicks off with an airline pilot, played by Adam Scott, who stumbles into a pawn shop, bloodied and desperate to sell a monkey toy. In King’s original story, the monkey was a retro novelty item, but in the film, it morphs into an imposing two-foot-tall plastic figure. This menacing depiction heightens the predictability of the ensuing chaos.
As the monkey’s paw strikes its drum, the film signals that death is imminent, with the pawn shop clerk becoming the first victim of an overly theatrical, almost cartoonish demise. The sequence is highlighted by a gratuitous explosion of gore, which, despite attempting to evoke shock, comes off as more comical than horrific.
While I enjoy films that showcase imaginative and gruesome deaths, “The Monkey” lacks the unique flair of its predecessors. It tries to weave a narrative, yet each interruption for a gory spectacle feels more like a forced distraction than an integral part of the story. The deaths, though at times inventive, do not rise to the bold creativity seen in the horror genre over the past four decades.
Central to the plot are twins Hal and Bill, portrayed by Christian Convery. They discover the cursed monkey, belonging to their deceased father. As their story unfolds, their mother suffers a tragic aneurysm, deepening their bitter rivalry, yet Bill remains a one-dimensional bully, lacking any complexity.
While King’s original tale hinted at deeper themes of power and fate, “The Monkey” opts for a disjointed slasher approach intertwined with a fraternal drama that ultimately fails to captivate.
As time passes, the brothers mature into adults, both played by Theo James, an actor I’ve admired since the “Divergent” series. James brings a hint of sympathy to the character of Hal, who is trying to bond with his son, Petey, amidst family tension. Despite their best efforts to rid themselves of the monkey, its curse proves tenacious, mirroring the film’s struggle to craft an engaging narrative. In shifting between grotesque moments and an assumed emotional connection, “The Monkey” unfortunately lacks the substance to keep audiences invested. Don’t count on this to have enduring appeal; it seems doomed to fall short.
