Debuting as the resurrected bestselling author machine was still churning out screen translations, without concern for excellence, The Black Phone felt like a uninspired homage. Featuring a small town 70s backdrop, young performers, psychic kids and gnarly neighbourhood villain, it was nearly parody and, comparable to the weakest his literary works, it was also awkwardly crowded.
Interestingly the inspiration originated from inside the family home, as it was adapted from a brief tale from the author's offspring, over-extended into a film that was a surprise $161m hit. It was the tale of the antagonist, a sadistic killer of young boys who would revel in elongating the process of killing. While molestation was never mentioned, there was something clearly non-heteronormative about the villain and the historical touchpoints/moral panics he was clearly supposed to refer to, emphasized by Ethan Hawke portraying him with a certain swishy, effeminate flare. But the film was too opaque to ever fully embrace this aspect and even without that uneasiness, it was excessively convoluted and too focused on its wearisome vileness to work as only an mindless scary movie material.
Its sequel arrives as former horror hit-makers Blumhouse are in critical demand for a hit. Lately they've encountered difficulties to make any project successful, from their werewolf film to their thriller to Drop to the total box office disaster of M3gan 2.0, and so significant pressure rests on whether the sequel can prove whether a brief narrative can become a movie that can generate multiple installments. There’s just one slight problem …
The original concluded with our Final Boy Finn (the young actor) eliminating the villain, supported and coached by the apparitions of earlier casualties. This has compelled writer-director Scott Derrickson and his co-writer C Robert Cargill to advance the story and its villain in a different direction, converting a physical threat into a supernatural one, a route that takes them via Elm Street with a capability to return into the real world made possible by sleep. But in contrast to the dream killer, the Grabber is noticeably uncreative and totally without wit. The facial covering continues to be appropriately unsettling but the production fails to make him as terrifying as he briefly was in the initial film, limited by complicated and frequently unclear regulations.
The protagonist and his annoyingly foul-mouthed sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) encounter him again while snowed in at an alpine Christian camp for kids, the sequel also nodding in the direction of Jason Voorhees Jason Voorhees. The sister is directed there by a vision of her late mother and what might be their deceased villain's initial casualties while Finn, still trying to handle his fury and newfound ability to fight back, is tracking to defend her. The writing is excessively awkward in its contrived scene-setting, inelegantly demanding to get the siblings stranded at a location that will additionally provide to histories of main character and enemy, supplying particulars we didn’t really need or want to know about. In what also feels like a more calculated move to edge the film toward the similar religious audiences that made the Conjuring series into massive hits, the director includes a religious element, with virtue now more directly linked with God and heaven while evil symbolizes the devil and hell, faith the ultimate weapon against this type of antagonist.
What all of this does is further over-stack a series that was already almost failing, adding unnecessary complications to what ought to be a simple Friday night engine. I often found myself excessively engaged in questioning about the hows and whys of possible and impossible events to become truly immersed. It’s a low-lift effort for Hawke, whose visage remains hidden but he does have genuine presence that’s generally absent in other areas in the ensemble. The location is at times impressively atmospheric but most of the consistently un-scary set-pieces are marred by a gritty film stock appearance to distinguish dreaming from waking, an poor directorial selection that seems excessively meta and constructed to mirror the frightening randomness of living through a genuine night terror.
Lasting approximately two hours, the sequel, similar to its predecessor, is a unnecessarily lengthy and hugely unconvincing argument for the birth of another series. The next time it rings, I advise letting it go to voicemail.
A dedicated writer and theologian passionate about sharing faith-based insights and fostering community connections.
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