There's a reason so many horror movies revolve around the experiences of children and teenagers: no matter how outlandish the scares are, the emotional growing pains of youth are inherently relatable. It's a winning formula that often doesn't need to sacrifice emotional heft for broad appeal.
With that in mind, The Black Phone should have been a slam dunk for director Scott Derrickson, but the film's marriage of real-life and supernatural horror clashes more than it complements, creating an experience that rings hollow in its attempt to generate visceral scares and meaningful introspection.
The premise sounds simple enough: in a Denver suburb in 1978, kids are beginning to disappear, and the police are failing to gain ground on finding "The Grabber" (Ethan Hawke). Soon after, 13-year-old Finney (Mason Thames) is abducted and held in a dingy basement, where he begins to receive messages from previous victims on a disconnected black phone. In one of the film's few interesting choices, the victims deliver their advice through a sort-of paranormal phone static, as they guide Finney out of his precarious situation.
While this has all the makings of a simple and effective thriller, the film bafflingly tacks on a half-baked and wholly unnecessary subplot involving Finney's younger sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw), who can peer into the abductions during her dreams, hoping to use them to help her brother escape. However, she is deterred from using such powers by her alcoholic, abusive father (Jeremy Davies), who saw these same abilities in his late wife.
This second storyline amounts to nothing of consequence, even the existence of this power is never touched upon, rendering its impact on the narrative ancillary at best. This would be fine if the film didn't dedicate a huge portion of its time to this subplot, but as it is, it only serves to pad out the runtime. Its here where the supernatural elements clash with the film's supposed gritty realism, and it results in two different movies that aren't given their proper due. Derrickson can't seem to fully commit to one angle, and it renders both elements frustratingly dull.
The period setting hopes to invoke a conversation about the rough childhoods of the '70s, but the film never truly initiates a dialogue, instead opting to superficially hint at certain issues to get marks for tact or subtlety. Take a scene where Gwen is being reprimanded by her father for paying heed to her dreams; he mentions that her mother was similarly tortured by such powers, and it provokes interesting thoughts about the legacies of family trauma — yet Derrickson and cowriter C. Robert Cargill never bring these ideas back into the fold. The Black Phone feels a bit phoney.
As well as falling short thematically, The Black Phone also fails to be a serviceable horror film. Its horror sequences are grounded in stereotypical sound design and editing, with a conventional thud every time the ghosts or the Grabber pop into frame. Derrickson's horror fails to build tension, as it all eventually amounts to a trivial jump scare. These scenes also feature unintentional laughs, as Finney's actions, and the spectral advice he is given, make little sense. In one scene, he is told to make the phone a weapon, even though the basement is littered with broken glass. Nonsensical decisions have become a trademark of bad horror, but given the gritty ambitions of this film, they become distracting.
The performances range from unconvincing to merely competent. McGraw's dramatic and comedic chops are serviceable, while Thames's range during the horror scenes leaves a lot to be desired. Most children would scream at the top of their lungs if they saw a floating corpse, but here they appear mildly surprised. Hawke's performance is the film's greatest draw, and rightly so, as he continually absorbs and captivates. It's a shame that his role is so poorly written, as his appearances are largely determined by plot convenience. For a character who is defined by unpredictability and spontaneity, he conveniently never comes into the basement when Finney is constructing his escape. These choices undermine the raw volatility and inherent threat of this figure, making him more of a goofy caricature than a character.
The Black Phone is an uneasy marriage of real-world and fictional horror elements. Its undercooked ideas and shallow scares can't help but expose its veneer of gritty realism. The greatest praise it can muster is that its capably shot and just barely entertaining enough. In a late scene, Finney is told to fill the black phone with dirt so it can serve as a weapon. In that moment, the movie was being completely true to itself, as it's similarly filled to the brim with wasted potential.
(Blumhouse / Universal)With that in mind, The Black Phone should have been a slam dunk for director Scott Derrickson, but the film's marriage of real-life and supernatural horror clashes more than it complements, creating an experience that rings hollow in its attempt to generate visceral scares and meaningful introspection.
The premise sounds simple enough: in a Denver suburb in 1978, kids are beginning to disappear, and the police are failing to gain ground on finding "The Grabber" (Ethan Hawke). Soon after, 13-year-old Finney (Mason Thames) is abducted and held in a dingy basement, where he begins to receive messages from previous victims on a disconnected black phone. In one of the film's few interesting choices, the victims deliver their advice through a sort-of paranormal phone static, as they guide Finney out of his precarious situation.
While this has all the makings of a simple and effective thriller, the film bafflingly tacks on a half-baked and wholly unnecessary subplot involving Finney's younger sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw), who can peer into the abductions during her dreams, hoping to use them to help her brother escape. However, she is deterred from using such powers by her alcoholic, abusive father (Jeremy Davies), who saw these same abilities in his late wife.
This second storyline amounts to nothing of consequence, even the existence of this power is never touched upon, rendering its impact on the narrative ancillary at best. This would be fine if the film didn't dedicate a huge portion of its time to this subplot, but as it is, it only serves to pad out the runtime. Its here where the supernatural elements clash with the film's supposed gritty realism, and it results in two different movies that aren't given their proper due. Derrickson can't seem to fully commit to one angle, and it renders both elements frustratingly dull.
The period setting hopes to invoke a conversation about the rough childhoods of the '70s, but the film never truly initiates a dialogue, instead opting to superficially hint at certain issues to get marks for tact or subtlety. Take a scene where Gwen is being reprimanded by her father for paying heed to her dreams; he mentions that her mother was similarly tortured by such powers, and it provokes interesting thoughts about the legacies of family trauma — yet Derrickson and cowriter C. Robert Cargill never bring these ideas back into the fold. The Black Phone feels a bit phoney.
As well as falling short thematically, The Black Phone also fails to be a serviceable horror film. Its horror sequences are grounded in stereotypical sound design and editing, with a conventional thud every time the ghosts or the Grabber pop into frame. Derrickson's horror fails to build tension, as it all eventually amounts to a trivial jump scare. These scenes also feature unintentional laughs, as Finney's actions, and the spectral advice he is given, make little sense. In one scene, he is told to make the phone a weapon, even though the basement is littered with broken glass. Nonsensical decisions have become a trademark of bad horror, but given the gritty ambitions of this film, they become distracting.
The performances range from unconvincing to merely competent. McGraw's dramatic and comedic chops are serviceable, while Thames's range during the horror scenes leaves a lot to be desired. Most children would scream at the top of their lungs if they saw a floating corpse, but here they appear mildly surprised. Hawke's performance is the film's greatest draw, and rightly so, as he continually absorbs and captivates. It's a shame that his role is so poorly written, as his appearances are largely determined by plot convenience. For a character who is defined by unpredictability and spontaneity, he conveniently never comes into the basement when Finney is constructing his escape. These choices undermine the raw volatility and inherent threat of this figure, making him more of a goofy caricature than a character.
The Black Phone is an uneasy marriage of real-world and fictional horror elements. Its undercooked ideas and shallow scares can't help but expose its veneer of gritty realism. The greatest praise it can muster is that its capably shot and just barely entertaining enough. In a late scene, Finney is told to fill the black phone with dirt so it can serve as a weapon. In that moment, the movie was being completely true to itself, as it's similarly filled to the brim with wasted potential.
