The Monkey – A Horror Film To Go Bananas Over (Early Review)

After nearly a decade of making horror films, Osgood Perkins broke through and established himself as a horror icon with last year’s moody occult-mystery horror Longlegs. Now, all eyes are on Perkins—the son of horror legend Anthony Perkins, Norman Bates himself—as he continues to explore the same complicated legacy that inspired his breakout hit. Yet, despite some thematic similarities, The Monkey serves as an unexpected and welcome tonal palate cleanser, using Stephen King’s titular short story as a launching point for Perkins to venture into horror-comedy with great success. Aided by haunted-doll aficionado James Wan as producer, Perkins and company transform his signature atmospheric dread into playful cynicism, gleefully weaponizing the audience’s understanding of horror tropes and cinematic violence. The result is a stylish, sensationally gory, and genuinely weird ride that beats to its own drum and sits snugly alongside the creative voices of Perkins, King, and Wan.

The film follows twin brothers Hal and Bill Shelburn (played in dual performances by James in the present and Convery in the ’90s) after they discover a vintage drumming monkey toy in their deceased father’s attic. When wound up, the organ-grinder monkey bangs on its snare and an inexplicable death follows. There are a few stipulations: the toy doesn’t seem to target the person who winds it, the deaths occur nearby and typically involve those the user knows, and the ape does not take requests. Fearing the cursed monkey’s power, the twins abandon it, burying it at the bottom of a well. Years later, the brothers lose touch, and adult Hal has retreated into solitude, limiting visits with his son, Petey (Colin O’Brien), out of fear that the curse will return. Though as a string of deaths eerily similar to the monkey’s past killings begins to reemerge, Hal must reconnect with his brother and confront his past, embarking on a journey with his estranged son to uncover the truth.

Perkins has never shied away from his father’s legacy. He previously revealed that Longlegs was inspired by his mother’s attempts to shield him from his father’s closeted sexuality: “Your mother can protect you from a truth that she thinks is unsavoury… And then you just build out a crazy movie around that.” It’s difficult not to interpret The Monkey through a similar lens, as he once again explores complicated themes of parenthood in an even more direct and personal way. Hal’s struggle to shield Petey from his curse is infused with both frustration and sympathy, as Perkins openly wrestles with his father’s absence while confronting his own fears of repeating history. Unfortunately, not all of this drama is fully realized, as stilted line deliveries and thinly written characters with vague motivations obscure what is otherwise a rich, revealing exploration of what it means to navigate parenthood after a childhood shaped by abandonment, loss, and grief.

Beneath the “filmmaking is the most expensive form of therapy” storytelling, however, The Monkey remains a brisk crowd-pleaser that, at just 98 minutes, wastes no time establishing its tone. Shocking, diabolical hard cuts and a hilarious cameo in the opening scene immediately signal to the audience that they are in for a pitch-black horror-comedy packed with Final Destination-style, Rube Goldberg-esque kills—each more spectacularly gory and inventive than the last. Much of the film’s humour comes from its absurdity and inevitability of death, something the characters embrace with varying degrees of acceptance—none better than Maslany, who briefly steals the show as the twins’ nihilistic goth mother, Lois. Grinning as she imparts a morbid life lesson to her children, she sums up the film’s philosophy in one perfectly deadpan line: “Everybody dies, and that’s life.” No amount of CGI blood can detract from how brutal these kills get, but the film offsets the carnage with darkly comical moments with its parade of eccentric side characters immediately piquing audience curiosity and contributing to the increasingly peculiar, off-kilter tone: a teenage pastor? A legion of girl bullies? Sure, why not? Life is as absurd, random, and unpredictable as death.

Through this lens, James and Convery take on the roles of Hal and Bill. The stronger of the two performances is James’ portrayal of Hal, the overly cautious, socially awkward dork who navigates every interaction with his anxiety dialled up to one hundred. Less successful is Bill, the laid-back, jaded, bully twin, whose characterization and involvement play second fiddle to Perkins’ other narrative ambitions. As the film hurtles toward its climax, it makes no effort to conceal its twists and struggles in its third act to maintain its initial momentum, culminating in a flat climax.

However, despite its narrative stumbles, The Monkey sticks the landing in its final moments, marking an exciting shift for Perkins as he translates his style into a gut-busting horror-comedy with electrifying results. Gone is the restraint of Longlegs, but in its place is a follow-up that is just as stylish and focused while arguably being more entertaining, successful in its genre elements, and emotionally resonant. If Longlegs was a nightmare the characters couldn’t wake up from, The Monkey is a batshit fever dream—one that solidifies Perkins is just getting started.

still courtesy of Elevation Pictures

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J.A. Birney

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