A film of this nature requires an unspoken bond with the viewing audience:
We play along only if the story’s eventual victims remain credibly oblivious to impending danger ... because, let’s face it: We know where things are heading here, given that James McAvoy’s leering, sinister face looms from all the publicity artwork.
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| Ben (Scoot McNairy), Louise (Mackenzie Davis) and their daughter Agnes (Alix West Lefler) initially assume they'll be spending a fun West England weekend with friends met during a vacation in Italy. Boy, have they got a nasty surprise coming... |
At first blush, it appears that director/co-scripter James Watkins, along with fellow writers Christian and Mads Tafdrup, understand this bargain. They burden this story’s sacrificial lambs — Ben Dalton (Scoot McNairy), wife Louise (Mackenzie Davis) and tween daughter Agnes (Alix West Lefler) — with plenty of distracting baggage: a frayed marriage, unhappy relocation to London, lost employment prospects, and an overly sensitive and anxious child.
A family vacation in Tuscany, although intended as a “do-over,” doesn’t entirely quell Ben’s feelings of emasculation and anger, over Louise’s recent infidelity; she, in turn, is exasperated by his sad-sack failure to re-launch, and his whiny unwillingness to move past her one-time transgression. And both argue how best to parent Agnes, who slides into meltdown whenever separated from her stuffed “comfort bunny,” Hoppy.
Their vacation package includes communal dining each evening, during which the Daltons fall into easy company with the gregarious Paddy (McAvoy), his surprisingly young wife Ciara (Aisling Franciosi), and their adolescent son Ant (Dan Hough). They’re mischievous and buoyant: just the tonic to lift Ben and Louise’s spirits.
Even so, Paddy’s charm seems a bit ... aggressive. But that’s probably Ben and Louise’s imagination.
All vacations come to an end, and the Daltons’ return to London revives old wounds. Cinematographer Tim Maurice-Jones amplifies this atmospheric shift by replacing Italy’s soft light and warm tonalities with London’s dreary, harsher grays and muted colors.
A postcard from Paddy and Ciara repeats an invitation, first extended back in Italy: You really must spend some time with us, at our West England farm. Recalling the lift their company provided, Ben, Louise and Agnes impulsively make the long drive.
On their home turf, Paddy and Ciara are ... a bit different. His mischievous side becomes bolder, her flirtatious nature subtly threatening: both challenging Ben and Louise’s comfort zones. Paddy plays on Ben’s insecurities; Louise’s rising concerns are dismissed as unwarranted or even rude, leaving her feeling uncertain and embarrassed. Davis plays this aspect of her character very well, whereas McNairy’s over-the-top weenie behavior becomes insufferably tiresome.
Then a line gets crossed, late one night; both Ben and Louise respond appropriately. But what happens next, prompted by that damned stuffed bunny, severs that unspoken bond betwixt filmmakers and audience.
Numerous viewers, at Monday evening’s Sacramento preview screening, could be heard muttering something along the lines of “Oh, come on.” With complete justification.
As quickly as a finger snap, Watkins lost us. Sympathy for the Daltons went out the window; from this point forward, they’re just unbelievably stupid.
Watkins and his co-writers further compound this error by overplaying their hand. The aforementioned transgression occurs roughly 40 minutes into the film; we then suffer through another half hour of Ben and Louise being increasingly daft, despite Paddy’s blindingly obvious malevolence. At this point, the story descends into tasteless psychological torture porn, leavened with deplorable soupçon of child abuse.
It's a rookie mistake: No film of this nature can sustain a running time of 110 minutes. By the time we hit the action-laden third act, the contrivances have overwhelmed any sense of satisfaction. Ben and Louise are no longer credible characters; they’re merely manipulated puppets. The result is by-the-numbers horror flick nonsense.
That’s a shame, because McAvoy is a fascinating presence, from first to last. Paddy is a seductively enticing villain, even when he ultimately erupts into full-blown derangement. McAvoy’s Scottish charm is unsettling and disorienting. (The depth of Paddy and Ciara’s depravity, when ultimately revealed, is quite sickening.)
Franciosi’s Ciara is similarly disconcerting; something truly nasty resides behind her seemingly playful gaze and seductive smile. Lefler’s Agnes has the best character arc; it’s satisfying to see the girl eventually find her stronger self. (Unlike her parents, Agnes always feels persuasively credible.)
Young Hough also deserves credit for his herculean effort in a mostly wordless and very difficult role; Ant’s early efforts to alert the others generate true suspense, particularly during two sequences he shares with Agnes.
Alas, such strong elements are completely undone by the numb-nuts story into which everybody has been dumped. At the end of the day, this is just another of Blumhouse Productions’ low-budget, cookie-cutter horror quickies: guaranteed to be forgotten before the end of the year.
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