The Monkey

by Mike McGranaghan

The Monkey is a horror film in the sense that it has a lot of blood and gore. It could more accurately be described as a morbid comedy. You laugh, even as the people onscreen meet horrible fates because their means of death are so bizarre. Osgood Perkins follows up his hit Longlegs with this gruesomely nutty adaptation of a Stephen King short story, making for what may be the best one-two punch from a horror director since Jordan Peele unleashed Get Out and Us.

Theo James plays twin brothers Hal and Bill. As children, their traveling father brought home a creepy looking wind-up monkey. People began to die in unusual ways as soon as they turned the key in its back, leading them to throw the cursed thing down a well. Twenty-five years later, citizens of their hometown start perishing in freak accidents. This leads to a reunion between the estranged siblings, as Bill compels Hal to go see if the monkey has somehow gotten loose. Accompanying Hal is his teenage son Petey (Colin O’Brien), whom he hopes not to pass his family’s problem onto.

There’s a line of dialogue that’s repeated several times during The Monkey: “Everybody dies.” The inevitability of death is the movie’s theme in a nutshell. Because this demented toy came into the brothers’ lives, they are forced to deal with a series of fatalities. The monkey chooses who it will kill once wound up, without logic or explanation. Escaping its evil is impossible. One scene finds the boys’ mother (Tatiana Maslany) rhapsodizing about death, pointing out that some people go peacefully in their sleep, whereas others go in ghastly ways.

Befitting this idea, characters in the picture fall into the latter category. Perkins deserves credit for devising unique, original kills. While certainly violent, they’re exaggerated enough to be darkly funny. You’re shocked at first, then a millisecond later you start laughing because you’ve just witnessed something completely outrageous. A scene involving a swimming pool is especially memorable for evoking that response. Achieving the shock/laugh balance is not easy, as many failed horror-comedies can attest. Done correctly, as it is here, the result is strangely energizing. You experience two opposing and involuntary reactions simultaneously.

As the brothers, Theo James does excellent deadpan work. The actor makes Hal appalled by the deaths around him, yet also humorously resigned to their frequency. (Someone got trampled to death in a stampede? Just another day at the office!) As Bill, he brings a more sinister edge, albeit one tempered with a hint of stupidity. James never winks at the camera in either role, which adds to their comedic value.

All of this brings us around to the central question: Why is it so entertaining to watch the string of macabre sights that make up The Monkey? Part of it is the sheer audaciousness Perkins demonstrates. But a bigger part is the cathartic value. Wes Craven once said, “Horror movies don’t create fear; they release it.” This film gives you a chance to laugh at death, to chuckle at the idea that we really don’t know whether we’ll go peacefully or in some hideous fashion. There’s power in that, especially when the laughs are as extreme as the bloodshed.

The Monkey is sick, twisted fun of the highest order.

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