The Monkey review – Theo James goes ape

“The thing with this toy monkey is that the people around it all die in insane ways,” Osgood Perkins told Empire Magazine earlier this year, referring to the villain of his new film. “So, I thought: ‘Well, I’m an expert on that. Both my parents died in insane, headline-making ways.’” The son of Anthony Perkins and Berry Benson (who did indeed die in insane, headline-making ways) demonstrates a remarkable self-awareness and sense of humour here; something that has informed all of his work, from his bit parts in Legally Blonde and Not Another Teen Movie to Nicolas Cages’ heavy metal waxwork of a serial killer in Longlegs. He’s a nepo baby, but one of the good ones, of late using his clout to turn out a series of weird, bracingly original horror movies – the latest of which is adapted from a Stephen King short story about a malevolent musical monkey.

Said monkey comes into the possession of twins Hal and Bill Shelburn (played by Christian Convery as children and Theo James as adults) after their pilot father disappears. Despite its deeply cursed visage, the curious preteens are fascinated by the monkey, who – when wound with the key in his back – performs an ominous drumming routine. It doesn’t take long before Hal and Bill realise that the monkey has a mind of its own: when you turn the key, somebody dies. (In shocking and violent fashion.)

Understandably the children are shocked by this turn of events, but as chaos unfolds around them, Hal and Bill take drastically different stances on whether they should keep turning the key (this seems like a no-brainer but who am I to question the infallible logic of a horror film about an evil monkey toy). Flash forward, and the brothers are estranged; Hal is a meek supermarket employee with a teenage son he barely sees. The death of a relative sends the twins on a collision course to reuniting – and wouldn’t you know it! That darn monkey is up to his old tricks.

If Longlegs was a study in pervasive dread, The Monkey opts for quick fire thrills and spills. The deaths rival Final Destination in creative gore, the blood spatter is plentiful, and Theo James is tasked with a juicy dual role which calls into question if the entire film industry has been sleeping on his talent by sending him off to work in the Guy Ritchie gulag. Don’t look for too much in the way of lore though – any questions about The Monkey’s providence or motivation are futile, missing the entire point of a film about a mysterious haunted toy. In this way, the film has something in common with Longlegs, whose supernatural third act reveal had a love-it-or-loathe-it effect on audiences. Perkins has always veered towards the fantastical in his filmmaking, and here it feels a little more loose and wacky, juxtaposed with the weight of traumatic grief that Hal and Bill must contend with.

Yet for all the fun that The Monkey has to offer in its violent set pieces, there’s something underwhelming about the direction the film takes, veering into sentimental territory for its final act that underserves both James’ spirited performance and the irreverent tone of the film. It’s this saccharine scripting and a haphazard approach to the plot beyond the creative dispatches that ultimately hamstring the film – while there’s some novelty in its gleeful, cartoon levels of violence and James’ turn as a fed-up witness to The Monkey’s bloodlust, there’s not quite enough substance to separate it in the crowded field of ‘cursed doll’ movies. It’s a good time, but not a great time – though within the canon of Stephen King adaptations, it’s definitely among the more fruitful offerings to make it to screen.