After director Perkins' string of long, dour horror films dripping in subtle atmospherics, along comes a maniacal, death-dealing monkey to deliver unadulterated chaos.
Adapted from a Stephen King short with the fidelity of a drunken karaoke cover, this feels like Perkins reveling in the opportunity to unleash, like the titular monkey, baring all teeth in a rictus grin. The film is never scary, but there is a fun anticipation in seeing how the simian reaper delivers, in escalating splatter and bodycount. There is intentional tonal juxtaposition, as scenes of mundanity and grief give way to absurd spectacle and slapstick slatterhouse.And Perkins is sly here, skewering the notion of ‘elevated horror’ because through all the nihilistic insanity mayhem and absurdity, there are strong thematic throughlines on generational trauma, the randomness of loss and grief, the brokenness of coping mechanisms, and laughing in the reaper’s bony face. Then someone’s head explodes in a giant middle finger to pretension.
Not everyone will appreciate the over-the-top unhinged nature of this film, or the copious amounts of gore, but if you’re a fan of horror-comedy, the monkey’s grin will certainly be infectious. To quote King on the film: “It’s batshit insane. As someone who has indulged in batshittery from time to time, I say that with admiration.”