With “The Monkey,” director-writer Osgood Perkins set out to craft a horror-comedy that leans into absurdity—delivering over-the-top, gory kills meant to amuse as much as they shock. And by that measure, the film succeeds. It fully embraces its campy, chaotic spirit, where death is as much a punchline as it is a plot point. But while Perkins executes his vision with precision, that vision may not land for audiences expecting a more traditional horror experience—one filled with heart-pounding jump scares and genuine terror.
In an adaptation of Stephen King’s short story, “The Monkey,” the film follows Hal and Bill Shelburn, portrayed by Theo James, as they discover their father’s old toy monkey in the attic. This seemingly innocent toy triggers a series of gruesome and bizarre deaths whenever it plays its cymbals. Despite their attempts to dispose of it, the cursed object resurfaces years later, compelling the estranged brothers to reunite and confront the malevolent force.
The film’s death sequences are a twisted blend of creativity and grotesque spectacle, perfectly aligned with Perkins’ brand of twisted satire. Imagine a shop owner, whose routine day is abruptly interrupted when a harpoon gun bursts through the window, impaling him in a gut-pinching yet almost slapstick fashion, his insides spilling in a way that should be horrifying but instead elicits an uneven laugh. Then there’s the babysitter, who, in the middle of what should be an innocent night of watching over kids, ends up losing her head in the most absurd way imaginable, her decapitation occurring in a fiery shower of hibachi grill havoc.
Next on the chopping block is the real estate agent. With all the confidence of a businesswoman, she meets her end when a shotgun, seemingly of its own accord, falls from a shelf and fires into her chest. Each of these absurdly excessive moments feels engineered for one thing: to make you gasp, then immediately crack a dark grin, highlighting Perkins’ knack for blending shock and humor in ways that make you question if you should be laughing at all. These moments aren’t just shocking—they’re a sickeningly funny celebration of death, think family movie that’s R-rated.
However enlightened, punchy, and brutal the death sequences were, this hyper-fixation on elaborate fatal moments comes at the expense of character development. Don’t audience members want to care about the characters? Whether it’s rooting for a beloved character to survive or eagerness to witness a detestable one perish—if you don’t make that connection, what’s the point?
The victims often felt like mere props, lacking depth or backstory, which diminished the impact of their cruel endings. Archetypes were so common you’ve seen them at least a dozen times in horror films primed on extravagant gory demises. The ditsy blonde. A team of ten cheerleaders. That’s where this inventive film suffers a crucial shortcoming in the world of horror. For enthusiasts seeking a connection to the characters or a buildup of suspense, this approach may feel hollow. The film’s tone remains consistently tongue-in-cheek throughout its hour and 38 minutes, prioritizing spectacle over substance.
Where the film did excel was the cast’s execution of infusing heart into their roles while navigating the film’s hyper dark tone. Theo James delivered a commendable performance in dual roles as Hal and Bill, capturing the nuances of their strained relationship. Yet, the script offered little room for emotional exploration, resulting in characters that felt more like clichéd figures than fully realized individuals, which kept viewers repeatedly at a distance from the brothers’ plight. Supporting actors, including Tatiana Maslany and Elijah Wood, provided solid performances but were similarly constrained by the film’s emphasis on aesthetic style over substantive storytelling.
“The Monkey” achieves what it sets out to do: present a series of absurd, darkly comedic death scenarios that entertain on a superficial level. However, for audiences craving the adrenaline of genuine scares, an eerie atmosphere, or a sense of loss or impact (or any sort of feeling whatsoever) when characters die, the film definitely falls short. Perkins’ vision is clear and confidently executed, but its appeal is limited to those who prefer a macabre laugh over a spine-chilling experience.
