The Monkey

After about a decade of work, writer/director Osgood Perkins finally received widespread recognition last summer for Longlegs. He wasn't exactly obscure before its release, but little could compare to the avalanche of attention showered upon him for his bizarre and haunting serial killer story, the highest grossing indie movie (domestically) of 2024. Additionally, it represented the next step in the arc of his writing career. His first two films (The Blackcoat's Daughter and I Am the Pretty Thing that Lives In the House) were deadly serious, heavily utilizing a flat affect and no humor. In Gretel & Hansel, Perkins loosened up a bit, allowing himself a handful of small jokes and bits of irony, which paired nicely with the inherent silliness of adapting a children's story into such a dark tale. And Longlegs blended the two quite well, featuring an absurd yet terrifying villain in a story heavily featuring large and unsettling homemade dolls. With The Monkey, Perkins' arc reaches the other side. Technically a horror-comedy, it's more accurate to call it a comedy using horror elements to generate more unique humor.

From the very first scene in a dusty antique shop, I was cackling with glee. It instantly displays the zany energy that Perkins will bring to each of the many, many kills across its one-hundred minute runtime. Sometimes, they're elaborate Rube Goldberg machines. Others are just intensely strange, such as the woman who pops like a balloon upon making contact with an electrified swimming pool. All are cartoonish in one way or another, wonderfully mixing the gruesome with the unsettling. There's no shortage of blood and guts, which our protagonist Hal Shelburn (Theo James) frequently finds himself covered in, as numerous people meet their demise with him nearby.

To be clear, it's not just the kills that are hilarious and over the top. The dialog crackles, full of quick retorts and inventive insults. Hal and his twin brother Bill (also Theo James, but with a very 80s haircut) both have a very distinct, overwrought manner of describing things that cannot help but make you laugh, even in the moments they're trying to be serious. The voice over gives Hal the perfect distance with which to contextualize the insanity on screen, his florid language clashing with the visuals. Even the editing gets in on the fun, creating wonderful juxtapositions that allow scenes to comment on each other. Horror fan or not, as long as you can stand the gore, you're certain to have a blast.

The plot is based on a Stephen King short story of the same name, so of course the first half follows Hal and Bill as children (both played by Christian Convery). Hal's schoolmates make his life hell just because they can, but Bill is worst of all, bringing that torment home. When Hal learns in a sickening accident that the "toy" monkey left behind by their absent father can kill, he naturally wishes for it to off his brother. Which is when it becomes clear that the monkey does not take requests. You might expect it to spite them with a dark sense of irony, but that's not quite true: as we see later on, its only rule seems to be that the person who winds it up is not killed. Every one else is fair game. Men, women, children, elders, babies, families, weirdos, out-of-towners; none of them are safe.

The movie is anything but subtle, so Hal informs us of the core theme of the movie: the randomness and unpredictability of death. Of course, the events on screen expand on that. Implicit in it is the futility of blaming someone else for the death of a loved one, never mind wasting the rest of your life on a quest for revenge. It's also nonsensical to blame yourself, no matter how much it feels like it's your fault. Death comes for us all, be it from an aneurysm or being inflated by bees jamming themselves down your throat for an uncomfortably long amount of screentime. The only realistic option in the face of a cold and uncaring universe is to make peace with that, and continue living your life without fear or trepidation.

It does go a smidge deeper, though, addressing the way trauma is passed from generation to generation. Hal and Bill grew up with a single mother, never meeting their father. As an adult, Hal's fear of the monkey and the death it brings with it leave him unable to stay in his son's life, despite the creature being locked in a box at the bottom of a well. His childhood experiences have stuck with him, even as their source has departed. He was always somewhat withdrawn to begin with, and all of the death has solidified his comfort being alone. The effect on Bill is far stranger and more cinematic, but has similarly left him isolated and emotionally stunted. As such, neither is well equipped for the return of the monkey. Much like King's It, hiding from your pain doesn't actually solve it: the only way to break free of your past is to confront it.

But Perkins' goal with The Monkey isn't some grand point, or to make some new observation. He's not looking to scare you per se, although the extravagant gore and violence will certainly upset some audience members. Rather, he just want to have a good time. Most often, that translates to the filmmaker asking you to shut your brain off and disengage, to uncritically let the movie wash over you. What's different here is the care and creativity of the entire crew, starting with Perkins rewriting the original, far darker script. It's clear from the end product that was the right decision, and that every single person who worked on this film hurled their whole being into realizing it on screen. Each department gets their chance to shine, and none fumble the spotlight.

It might not be the most meaningful, thought-provoking, or inventive film, but it's certain to stick with you.