The Monkey - Review

For a horror writer of such acclaim and stature, Stephen King film adaptations have had mixed returns. His latest adaptation is of his 1980 short story, The Monkey, about a cursed children’s toy. Directing is another man of horror royalty, Osgood Perkins, son of Anthony Perkins who played the iconic Norman Bates in the Alfred Hitchcock classic Psycho.

You’d forgive Perkins for not wanting to go near adapting this story of a family toy who deals up a platter of extreme, freak accident deaths. Perkins’s father died of AIDs-related pneumonia. Whilst his mum, Berry Berenson was onboard the American Airlines flight that crashed into the Twin Towers. It is hard to imagine a man who has had a more traumatic relationship with death. Yet, death in The Monkey is gruesomely violent and wickedly fun. It is a film that accepts death as one of life’s certainty and almost says if you’re going to go, go with a bang.

Perkins introduces us to the demonic monkey as he is dropped off at a Pawn store by a Pilot whose uniform has a hearty splatter of blood stained across his shirt. This is not a man wanting to make a deal but so desperate to offload this deadly deity, like a criminal in a gangster flick tossing a gun or body in a nearby river. However, the toy seems broken, the owner doesn’t want to accept it, yet, soon the monkey starts playing his merry tune, and dire consequences follow. The pilot flees the scene and his family. The monkey passed on to his twin sons, Hal and Bill (Christian Convery), who witness the power of the monkey, traumatising both of them in different ways. 25 years later, the twins (Theo James) discover the monkey’s return and must warn those in its vicinity about its danger.

The Monkey is brilliant fun. Not overly scary, but it really doesn’t matter too much. This is gore at its wildest, deaths come with a chorus of laughs. Often playing out in an excruciatingly slow manner, allowing the audience to voyeuristically observe. “Oh I do like to be beside the seaside” makes you drool like Pavlov’s dog, lick our lips in wicked anticipation, with the film tied together with a tight, funny script that doesn’t outstay its welcome. It’s having fun, playing with horror archetypes, most notably a scene-stealing Priest who blurts out anything in his head only to correct himself with something equally insensitive, helped by a blunt and abrupt edit, using the craft of cutting to add and play up the comedic moments. Especially with a packed audience this is a raucous time. However, I would stay away from trailers if you can, the majority of the deaths in the first act have been covered in the marketing.

This is not just comedic gore for the sake of it, and Perkins is trying to get under the skin of the audience in a tale of generational trauma as the titular villain is passed down from son to son. It’s a story of what it feels like to be cursed, with both twins going about their grief in different and raw ways. Whilst there is the classic horror trope of hiding the truth about the demonic villain in fear of being labelled as insane. However, not everything about the deeper themes works. The central father-son relationship is a little one-dimensional whilst the film’s climactic moment is so insincere in its desire to be serious; with Marvel-esque cop outs that derail the film’s thematic progression, and almost ruin all the good work done.

The Monkey is a tight, thrilling and fun 90 minutes. Whilst not scary, it is great fun, with each death trying to one up the previous. Grounded by strong performances by Theo James and his younger counterpart Christian Convery it is a great time for most of its runtime, until the point the comedy undercuts the sincere themes it is trying to land in its climax. The Monkey’s drumroll may not be for everyone. If you like your comedy black as pitch you’ll have a great time, but if you like your drama sincere, it is frustratingly childish like a toy monkey.