Coming as the resurrected bestselling author machine was still churning out film versions, without concern for excellence, The Black Phone felt like a sloppy admiration piece. Set against a 1970s small town setting, teenage actors, psychic kids and gnarly neighbourhood villain, it was almost imitation and, similar to the poorest the author's tales, it was also awkwardly crowded.
Curiously the source was found within the household, as it was adapted from a brief tale from King’s son Joe Hill, stretched into a film that was a unexpected blockbuster. It was the story of the Grabber, a sadistic killer of young boys who would take pleasure in prolonging their fatal ceremony. While sexual abuse was never mentioned, there was something unmistakably LGBTQ-suggestive about the antagonist and the era-specific anxieties he was intended to symbolize, emphasized by the actor portraying him with a certain swishy, effeminate flare. But the film was too ambiguous to ever really admit that and even without that uneasiness, it was excessively convoluted and too high on its exhaustingly grubby nastiness to work as only an unthinking horror entertainment.
Its sequel arrives as once-dominant genre specialists the studio are in urgent requirement for success. This year they’ve struggled to make any film profitable, from Wolf Man to The Woman in the Yard to the adventure movie to the total box office disaster of M3gan 2.0, and so much depends on whether the continuation can prove whether a compact tale can become a motion picture that can generate multiple installments. There’s just one slight problem …
The first film ended with our surviving character Finn (Mason Thames) eliminating the villain, supported and coached by the ghosts of those he had killed before. It’s forced writer-director Scott Derrickson and his writing partner Cargill to advance the story and its villain in a different direction, converting a physical threat into a supernatural one, a path that leads them by way of Freddy's domain with a capability to return into reality made possible by sleep. But unlike Freddy Krueger, the villain is markedly uninventive and entirely devoid of humour. The facial covering continues to be effectively jarring but the film struggles to make him as frightening as he temporarily seemed in the first, constrained by complex and typically puzzling guidelines.
The protagonist and his irritatingly profane sibling Gwen (the actress) face him once more while snowed in at a mountain religious retreat for kids, the follow-up also referencing in the direction of Jason Voorhees the Friday the 13th antagonist. 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 process his anger and fresh capacity for resistance, is following so he can protect her. The writing is overly clumsy in its contrived scene-setting, inelegantly demanding to leave the brother and sister trapped at a setting that will further contribute to histories of main character and enemy, supplying particulars we didn’t really need or want to know about. What also appears to be a more strategic decision to push the movie towards the comparable faith-based viewers that turned the Conjuring franchise into huge successes, Derrickson adds a faith-based component, with morality now more strongly connected with God and heaven while bad represents the demonic and punishment, belief the supreme tool against a monster like this.
The result of these decisions is additional over-complicate a franchise that was previously close to toppling over, adding unnecessary complications to what ought to be a simple Friday night engine. Frequently I discovered too busy asking questions about the hows and whys of possible and impossible events to become truly immersed. It’s a low-lift effort for the actor, whose features stay concealed but he possesses genuine presence that’s generally absent in other areas in the cast. The setting is at times atmospherically grand but the majority of the persistently unfrightening scenes are marred by a gritty film stock appearance to differentiate asleep and awake, an unsuccessful artistic decision that seems excessively meta and constructed to mirror the terrifying uncertainty of being in an actual nightmare.
Lasting approximately two hours, the sequel, comparable to earlier failures, is a unnecessarily lengthy and extremely unpersuasive argument for the birth of an additional film universe. If another installment comes, I recommend not answering.
Tech journalist and gadget reviewer with a passion for emerging technologies and consumer electronics.