The Rise of Oz Perkins: A Master of Tonally Wild Horror
Oz Perkins, the son of the legendary Anthony Perkins, has carved out a unique niche in the horror genre with his bold and unconventional approach to storytelling. His 2023 film, Longlegs, was a critical and commercial success, mesmerizing audiences with its unsettling atmosphere and defiance of traditional narrative logic. This year, Perkins returns with The Monkey, an adaptation of a Stephen King short story that doubles as a chaotic, gory, and darkly humorous exploration of death’s unpredictability. The Monkey is not just a horror film; it is a statement—a defiant rejection of the tidy rules that often govern the genre. Perkins seems to scream at his audience: When it comes to death, there are no rules. No fairness. No logic. This audacious stance makes The Monkey both a thrilling and deeply unsettling ride.
A Defiance of Horror Tropes
Horror movies often rely on familiar tropes to guide their narratives—rules that supposedly keep characters safe, like “don’t have sex” or “don’t wander off alone.” These tropes have become so ingrained in pop culture that they inspired meta-horror franchises like Scream. At first glance, The Monkey seems to follow a similar path. The film centers around a creepy, vintage windup monkey toy that wreaks havoc on a family. Every time the toy is activated, someone dies. But Perkins quickly subverts this premise, abandoning the predictable cause-and-effect structure in favor of something far more chaotic and unpredictable.
The story follows twin boys, Hal and Bill Shelburn, who inherit the cursed toy from their vanished father, played by Adam Scott in a memorable prologue. As the twins grow up, they spend decades trying to understand and control the monkey’s deadly power. But Perkins’ point is clear: death cannot be controlled. Even if you think you can manipulate it—whether by using the monkey’s power against your enemies, protecting those you love, or avoiding its will entirely—you are ultimately at its mercy. This bleak worldview is quintessentially Perkins, a filmmaker who cannot help but infuse his work with a mordant, almost nihilistic perspective, even when the tone is anarchic and comedic.
A Tonally Wild Ride
The Monkey is a tonal rollercoaster, blending sight gags, dry one-liners, and absurd humor with graphic violence and shocking deaths. Perkins has always excelled at creating intimate, atmospheric horror films, but his latest effort feels like a departure—a wild, uninhibited exploration of both comedy and carnage. The film opens with a darkly funny scene featuring Adam Scott’s character attempting to pawn off the cursed toy, setting the tone for the chaos to come. As the story progresses, Perkins leans heavily into the absurdity, delivering scenes that are as ridiculous as they are horrifying. A death-by-beehive sequence, for instance, is so bizarre that it feels almost surreal, yet it’s executed with a grim seriousness that leaves a lasting impression.
Perkins’ ability to balance these clashing tones is a testament to his skill as a filmmaker. In lesser hands, The Monkey could easily have felt disjointed or uneven, but Perkins’ mastery of mood ensures that the film remains compelling, even as it careens from one extreme to another. His grounding in the complexities of childhood trauma—both in this film and his previous work—adds depth to the narrative, making the brothers’ struggles feel deeply human, even as the world around them descends into madness.
Family Trauma and the Resonance of Death
At its core, The Monkey is a story about family dysfunction and the lasting impact of early-life trauma. The Shelburn twins are-left to grapple not only with the monkey’s curse but also with the absence of their father and the strain it places on their relationship. Perkins, who has spoken openly about his own complicated childhood, brings a raw authenticity to the film’s portrayal of sibling dynamics. Hal and Bill grow up to be vastly different people, yet both are haunted by the same insecurities and fears.
Theo James, best known for his role in The White Lotus, plays the adult Hal and Bill, and his casting initially feels unconventional. His chiseled good looks and charismatic presence make him an unlikely fit for characters who are essentially dead-end losers. Yet this incongruity becomes a key part of the film’s humor and charm. Hal, in particular, is a fascinating character—a smart, potentially charming man who has resigned himself to a life of drudgery in an attempt to avoid the monkey’s curse. His passivity is both tragic and darkly funny, and James’ physicality adds an unexpected layer of tension to the role. Bill, on the other hand, is Hal’s id, embracing the chaos of the monkey’s power with reckless abandon. Together, the brothers embody the film’s central thesis: death is unpredictable, and no amount of scheming or avoidance can change that.
The Absurdity of Trying to Control the Uncontrollable
As the story unfolds, Perkins uses the monkey’s curse to explore the futility of trying to control the uncontrollable. Hal’s passive resistance to the toy’s power stands in stark contrast to Bill’s active attempts to manipulate it. Bill obsessively winds the monkey’s key, hoping to bend its will to his own desires. But death is not so easily gamed. Every time Bill thinks he’s outsmarted the curse, it strikes in a way that is both horrifying and absurd. The film’s kills are frequent and inventive, ranging from beheadings to electrocutions, each one more shocking than the last. Yet despite the carnage, there’s a twisted sense of humor underlying it all. Perkins knows that the randomness of death is terrifying, but he also knows that it’s absurd. In the face of such uncertainty, all we can do is laugh.
The Monkey is not for the faint of heart. It is a messy, chaotic film that defies easy categorization. It is both a horror movie and a dark comedy, a meditation on death and a wild, gory ride. But it is also deeply human, rooted in the fears and insecurities that unite us all. For Perkins, the randomness of death is not just a plot device—it is a way of life. And in The Monkey, he invites us to laugh, cry, and scream along with him as he confronts the inevitability of our shared fate.
