{"id":1589,"date":"2025-04-30T04:48:12","date_gmt":"2025-04-30T02:48:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cineairo.com\/?p=1589"},"modified":"2025-05-07T12:49:17","modified_gmt":"2025-05-07T10:49:17","slug":"the-monkey-a-half-assed-red","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/cineairo.com\/index.php\/2025\/04\/30\/the-monkey-a-half-assed-red\/","title":{"rendered":"The Monkey: A Half-Assed RED!"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

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There\u2019s a certain weight that comes with finding the past boxed up in an attic \u2014 heavier still when it clangs like cymbals and grins without reason. In The Monkey<\/em>, twin brothers Hal and Bill stumble across a childhood toy owned by their father who disappeared and never came back: a garish, wind-up monkey whose percussive hands are less nostalgic and more fatal. What follows is not a simple haunting, but a slow unraveling \u2014 of lives, of memory, and of the type of trauma that skips generations, coated with irony and a dash of twisted humor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When people around the brothers begin to die with eerie timing to the monkey’s clatter, they realize what they once buried \u2014 both figuratively and literally \u2014 has clawed its way back up. Time folds: from the present to the unsettling recesses of childhood, where the line between plaything and harbinger was always blurred. The horror here isn\u2019t purely supernatural \u2014 it\u2019s entangled with satire, dysfunctional family dynamics, and a comedic streak that sneaks in through the cracks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Osgood Perkins doesn\u2019t just adapt a Stephen King short story \u2014 he dissects it with a sly grin, folds it inside-out, and stitches it together with his own morbid fascinations. The Monkey isn\u2019t interested in cheap scares or dusty nostalgia. It\u2019s laced with sarcasm and stylized dread, as if grief and guilt wore clown paint and cracked smiles. It asks, what if trauma came with a wind-up key? What if family curses played out like a cruel inside joke?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I first heard The Monkey<\/em> was directed by Osgood Perkins \u2014 the same mind behind Longlegs<\/em> \u2014 I was genuinely intrigued. Longlegs<\/em> left a mark, and Perkins has a distinct directorial voice that piques curiosity. Add to that the Stephen King factor, and you\u2019d think I\u2019d be sold. But here\u2019s the twist: I\u2019m also a die-hard Stephen King fan \u2014 the kind who\u2019s read the short stories, the novels, and the weird in-between experiments. And that made me skeptical. Why? Because if there\u2019s one thing King adaptations struggle with, it\u2019s turning short stories into full-length films. They rarely translate well \u2014 not on screen, and let\u2019s be honest, sometimes not even on the page. So, while half of me was thrilled about the director, the other half expected a mess. And yeah… that second half was mostly right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Did I hate The Monkey? No. Did I love it? Also no. Was I bored? Definitely not. But did I enjoy it? That\u2019s a harder question. The film is well-crafted in certain areas \u2014 the editing is sharp, the production design textured, and the cinematography often does the heavy lifting. These are undeniable strengths. But then there\u2019s the story. And… well, that\u2019s where it all wobbles. I\u2019ve never been a fan of the original short story to begin with, and the film didn\u2019t do much to change my mind. It suffers from a clear identity crisis: part black comedy, part gore-fest, part dysfunctional family drama, part YA horror with glossy aesthetics. At times, it feels like it\u2019s aiming to be a more elegant version of Final Destination \u2014 but because it half-commits, it ends up falling short. And if we\u2019re being honest, Final Destination still wins despite artistically The Monkey is better because at least Final Destination knows what it is, and simply because\u2014if you allow me\u2014when you half-ass everything, you never really land a full-ass experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If there\u2019s one thing The Monkey<\/em> lands, it\u2019s accidental humor \u2014 or maybe it\u2019s intentional. Either way, you\u2019ll probably laugh a few times. Maybe even flinch once or twice. Perkins does have a knack for building tension and staging inventive kill scenes. The movie is smartly orchestrated in those moments, and you can\u2019t deny the directorial control. But still, the performances? Outside of the mother, most felt mechanical, even robotic \u2014 and not in a naturalistic way. It\u2019s hard to tell if that stiffness was by design, part of some satirical edge, or just awkward execution. With so many jumps between timelines and tones, the characters never have space to breathe. You observe them, but never connect. You witness their arcs, but don\u2019t feel their journey. And that emotional distance makes the entire experience feel… detached.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This isn\u2019t horror built for screaming \u2014 it\u2019s more of a slow, ironic ache. A kind of haunted theater where everything plays out just a little too absurdly to be real, yet never quite campy enough to be fun. Perkins blends the supernatural with a cold, Midwestern routine where the dead don\u2019t merely linger \u2014 they do dishes, babysit, and crash dinner. The terror is domestic, but the tone walks a tightrope between eerie and ironic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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At the end of the day, Osgood Perkins is both the film\u2019s biggest asset and its greatest complication. All the things that work \u2014 the visual atmosphere, the stylized kills, the strange yet confident pacing \u2014 they\u2019re tied to his vision. But so are the things that don\u2019t. The film\u2019s fragmented structure, its narrative dissonance, its hollow character arcs, and even the eerie, off-kilter performances \u2014 they all feel like conscious decisions. Maybe it\u2019s meant to be ironic or a meta-commentary on the horror genre. But intention doesn\u2019t always equal connection. Sometimes, you can admire the craft and still feel nothing. The Monkey<\/em> is filled with deliberate choices. They just don\u2019t always lead anywhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, where does that leave us? In a liminal space between \u201cimpressive\u201d and \u201cforgettable.\u201d The Monkey<\/em> is never boring. It\u2019s beautifully shot, expertly edited, and clearly helmed by someone with vision. But it\u2019s also emotionally distant, narratively uneven, and tonally conflicted. You might laugh a few times. You might flinch once or twice. And you\u2019ll probably admire Perkins for trying something bold. But when the credits roll, you\u2019re left with a film that half-commits to too many things \u2014 and that rarely results in a full experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Rating (5.5\/10):<\/strong> \u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u00bd \u2606 \u2606 \u2606 \u2606<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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