Cast: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Elijah Wood, Christian Convery, Colin O’Brien, Rohan Campbell, Sarah Levy
Genre: Horror
Director: Osgood Perkins
In Irish Cinemas: 21st February 2025
Before the summer of 2024, Osgood Perkins was primarily recognised as a director of slow-burning, atmospheric horror films—works that cultivated a small but dedicated following. As the son of Anthony Perkins, the actor immortalised as Norman Bates in Psycho, his name carried an inherent connection to horror cinema history. Yet, despite his lineage and distinct filmmaking style, his earlier projects—such as the psychological boarding school chiller The Blackcoat’s Daughter, the eerie dark fairy tale Gretel & Hansel, and the gothic supernatural tale I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House—failed to reach a broad mainstream audience.
That all changed in 2024 with Longlegs, a film that not only cemented itself as one of the standout horror films of the decade but also solidified Perkins as a master of unnerving, meticulously crafted terror. Drenched in a haunting ‘90s aesthetic, Longlegs showcased his unique storytelling prowess and relentless approach to horror, earning him a place among the genre’s most compelling contemporary directors.
Now, just months after the success of Longlegs, Perkins is already following up with an ambitious new project. This time, he’s teaming up with horror juggernaut James Wan—one of the genre’s most successful modern producers—for an adaptation of a short story by none other than Stephen King, the undisputed master of literary horror. With this collaboration, Perkins is poised to cement further his reputation as one of today’s most essential voices in horror filmmaking.
The Monkey feels like a fusion of Longlegs with a touch of James Wan’s signature style. It’s noticeably more polished and mainstream-friendly than Perkins’ previous film—despite Longlegs being a critical and commercial hit—amping up the spectacle with grander kill sequences, heightened gore, and a central antagonist who, while menacing, doesn’t rely on the unhinged theatrics of Nicolas Cage.
The Monkey truly surpasses Longlegs in its embrace of Perkins’ dark humor. It delivers several genuinely laugh-out-loud moments, some arising from the film’s gruesome deaths. There’s a definite Quentin Tarantino influence, particularly in how the violence is over-the-top and laced with an offbeat sense of comedy, making for a disorienting yet entertaining mix.
However, the film stumbles in its latter half, tangled in weighty family and generational trauma themes that dilute the gleefully chaotic energy established earlier. Even so, Perkins carves out his brand of Tarantino-esque storytelling while crafting a high-concept Final Destination film. And really, what more could you ask for?
Like all great horror films, The Monkey starts with a chilling and intense opening scene. A desperate father—played in a delightfully unexpected cameo that’s best experienced without prior knowledge—arrives at a pawn shop, determined to rid himself of an eerie, sinister-looking toy monkey. His bloodstained shirt makes it clear: this isn’t just about getting rid of an unwanted trinket; it’s a matter of life and death.
The shop owner refuses to take the monkey. Still, when its crank is wound and the toy begins rhythmically pounding its drum, the father’s terrified reaction signals that something genuinely horrific is about to unfold. What follows is a gruesome, brutal kill sequence. As the carnage unfolds, the true extent of the monkey’s terrifying powers is revealed, setting the tone for the nightmare.
Years after their father mysteriously vanished, unable to rid himself of a sinister mechanical monkey, twin brothers Hal and Bill find themselves forever scarred by his absence. An awkward and introverted teenager, Hal struggles under the oppressive shadow of his brash and domineering identical twin, Bill. When they stumble upon the monkey hidden among their father’s abandoned belongings, a chilling pattern emerges—those closest to them begin to die in a series of horrific “accidents.” Their lives are irrevocably changed as the curse tightens its grip.
Fast forward twenty-five years, and Hal (Theo James) has withdrawn from the world, living in self-imposed isolation to escape his past. Despite his fears, he has a teenage son, Petey (Colin O’Brien), who has grown increasingly curious about his father’s estranged family. But when yet another inexplicable tragedy strikes, Hal realises his worst nightmare has come true—the monkey has returned. It wasn’t destroyed all those years ago, and now it’s back to claim more lives, possibly even Petey’s. As the deadly cycle begins again, Hal is forced to confront long-buried family secrets, decades of trauma, and the terrifying reality that the curse is far from over. Desperate for answers, he reaches out to Bill, who, unlike Hal, has never even attempted to escape their shared past—leaving him even more broken by the horrors they endured. Together, they must finally face the evil that has haunted them since childhood before it takes everything they have left.
The Monkey essentially plays out like a darker, more sophisticated take on a Final Destination film. Only, instead of an invisible, inescapable force of death orchestrating elaborate fatal accidents, the harbinger of doom is a sinister, unsettling toy monkey. This premise injects a fresh perspective into the well-worn “cursed object” subgenre, which often struggles to be genuinely frightening. When an object is brought to life—like Chucky—it leans more toward camp than terror. Conversely, when it’s merely a vessel for demonic influence, as seen in the Annabelle films, it risks feeling like a redundant storytelling device.
What sets The Monkey apart is its ability to make its eerie, cymbal-clapping antagonist integral to the narrative, rather than just a gimmick. The horror isn’t just in the kills themselves but in the anticipation they create. The audience knows that death is imminent when the monkey starts beating its drum—but who will be next, and how they will meet their end, remains an unnerving mystery until the last moment. This element mirrors Final Destination’s core appeal, but writer-director Osgood Perkins brings a distinct style and sensibility to the material, elevating it beyond anything seen in that franchise.
One of the most surprising aspects of The Monkey, especially when compared to the grim and oppressive atmosphere of Longlegs, is how frequently Perkins injects moments of dark humor. Rather than delivering an unrelenting barrage of dread, he skillfully balances the horror with well-timed comedic beats that catch the audience off guard.
Take, for example, a young Bill dramatically mouthing an expletive—“F**K”—at the funeral of an unfortunate victim, an outburst that feels both jarring and oddly amusing in the moment. Then there’s a scene in which a character, already in a dire predicament, frantically runs through their house with their head engulfed in flames—only to meet an even more gruesome fate that surpasses the horror of burning alive. These moments don’t just offer comic relief; they are woven seamlessly into the film’s nightmarish fabric, making the terror all the more striking.
Perkins never retreats from the horror, and the sharp editing ensures that the humor enhances rather than dilutes the film’s unsettling tone.
A cameo from Perkins, who plays a deadbeat uncle with a penchant for having a good time, adds to the film’s unexpected comedic charm. This performance is a playful nod to his earlier, more overtly comedic work. It reminds us of Perkins’ versatility, effortlessly shifting between horror and humor while maintaining the film’s eerie unpredictability.
The Monkey is a horror film that is best experienced in its purest form. Director Osgood Perkins delivers relentless gore while maintaining a deeply unsettling atmosphere—an area where he consistently excels. Like Longlegs, The Monkey explores the lingering effects of childhood trauma, showing how past horrors can resurface to haunt us in adulthood.
However, the script begins to falter as the film enters its second half and Hal finds himself racing against the monkey’s ominous drumbeat to save his son. The storytelling loses some of its sharpness compared to Perkins’ previous work. The logic behind the toy’s supernatural abilities grows increasingly convoluted, and as the film leans into weightier themes, they clash with its otherwise absurdist tone.
While The Monkey may not have the same narrative strength as Longlegs, it remains a delightful horror experience. It further proves that Perkins is one of the rare filmmakers who can seamlessly blend comedy, suspense, and the kind of gruesome, unflinching horror that mainstream cinema has been lacking for years.
Theo James has firmly established himself as one of Hollywood’s most sought-after actors, effortlessly shifting between charismatic antiheroes and brooding criminals. His recent standout performances—as an insufferable American tourist in The White Lotus and a ruthless London gangster in Guy Ritchie’s The Gentlemen series—have solidified his status as a compelling on-screen presence. In The Monkey, James now takes on the challenge of portraying two vastly different characters, showcasing his impressive range.
As Hal, he embodies a self-imposed loner grappling with the painful dilemma of protecting his son while also striving to be a present father. Their complex relationship serves as the film’s emotional anchor, grounding the story even when its supernatural elements verge on the absurd. The father-son dynamic, a central theme in Matt Perkins’s script, carries an emotional weight that adds depth to the film’s eerie premise.
In contrast, James’s portrayal of adult Hal allows him to lean into the film’s darkly comedic moments, channeling shades of his White Lotus character, Cam—a reckless, narcissistic figure with a penchant for chaos. His performance oscillates between intensity and humor, further proving his ability to disappear into roles despite his strikingly handsome and chiseled features, which occasionally make it difficult to buy him as a reclusive outcast in small-town America. Nevertheless, The Monkey is an exciting showcase for James’s versatility, allowing him to fully embrace the complexities of both characters in a way that keeps audiences engaged.
Suppose you’re the kind of person who finds yourself laughing at the excessive, almost cartoonish violence in Django Unchained, or delighting in the absurd, physics-defying fatalities of the Final Destination series. In that case, The Monkey has plenty to offer. While it may not be as meticulously crafted or as steeped in suspense as Longlegs, there’s an undeniable sense that director Osgood Perkins is fully embracing the opportunity to push his horror sensibilities to their absolute limit.
Thanks partly to James Wan’s involvement, the film carries a noticeable layer of studio polish, but Perkins’ distinctive style still shines through. He can inject thrilling, over-the-top spectacle into a bleak and oppressive atmosphere—similar to the grim aesthetic he perfected in his previous film.
If Longlegs represents the brooding, introspective side of Perkins’ filmography—akin to a solitary figure convinced that horror lurks around every corner—then The Monkey is its loud, brash counterpart. It may lack some refinement but compensates with sheer, unapologetic entertainment. In a way, if Longlegs is the Hal of Perkins’ cinematic lineage—the reserved, foreboding soul weighed down by its eerie philosophy—then The Monkey is the Bill: bombastic, unruly, and perhaps even more fun because of it.
Overall: 7/10
Movie Reviewer
