A Haunting Blend Of Horror, Humor, And Generational Trauma

There’s so much horror in the unknown. Sure, as The Monkey’s tagline says, “everyone dies,” but it’s the how and when that makes that fact so terrifying. Of course, when it comes to dissecting our deepest, darkest fears, there’s no better genre than horror. Based on the Stephen King short story of the same name, director Osgood Perkins, the visionary behind Longlegs, uses the already well-painted strokes of King’s work to craft a horror film that feels fresh, cleverly balancing absurdist comedy with gore in a way that will both unsettle and entertain.

The film opens with an inviting, sitcom-like soundtrack that lures you into a false sense of security. However, that light-hearted tone quickly fades as the true horror of the monkey’s curse takes center stage. When the audience first sees the monkey, a father (played by Adam Scott) is desperately trying to pawn it off. When that fails, ending in an outrageous and grisly death – guts pulled out like sausage links – the father attempts to take a blow torch to it; however, it seems that, unlike people, the monkey can’t meet death. Everything that occurs in these open scenes establishes the tone that’s to come, one that makes even funerals seem comically absurd. This contrast of humor and horror is one of the film’s greatest strengths, allowing its story to explore dark, emotional themes with an unexpected sense of catharsis.

The monkey itself is more than just a creepy toy. With its unsettling beady eyes and stretched smile, it takes on a supernatural presence, becoming a force of evil that feels beyond its plastic shell and metallic gears. Every time the camera focuses on it, suspense builds, and the sound of its winding key or the beat of its drumsticks sets the stage for the next brutal kill. There’s a sense of unpredictability surrounding the monkey because, just like the Grim Reaper, he takes anyone. No one knows who will be its next victim. There are no rules. There’s no reasoning. The bang of its drum, like a scythe scraping the ground, signals only one thing and heightens the tension and sense of dread.

At the heart of the film is a complex relationship between twin brothers, Hal and Bill (played, respectively, as a nervous wreck and completely unhinged by Theo James).  As adults, they are still haunted by the trauma of their mother’s sudden, blood-soaked death, and the return of the monkey forces them to confront their unresolved grief. Hal, in particular, tries to protect his son from the curse, distancing himself from his family in the hope that doing so will keep them out of harm’s way. His fear that something terrible could happen to his son stems not only from the monkey but also from a deep-seated guilt over his mother’s death and a generational cycle of trauma he doesn’t want to pass on to his son. The father mentioned at the beginning of this review was Hal’s own and he left him and Bill for what one can assume is the same reason. (A closet full of clues about their father leads them to discover the monkey in the first place.) From this we see, through Maslany’s performance, a single mother raising two boys with a bitterness that lingers from the belief that her husband simply abandoned his family. However, the father-son dynamics at play in the film speak a lot to the thematic elements that Perkins also explored in Longlegs; that being the legacy of what is passed down from parent to child and what that can do physically and emotionally. 

Follow us on MSN for more content like this.

Despite the story moving from 1999 to the present day, the film, using vintage lenses and a specific color palette, contains a nostalgic quality to it, capturing the look and feel of the ‘80s when King wrote the short story. As the monkey reappears after 25 years, Hal and Bill are forced to reunite to confront it. Their personal motivations are different: Hal wants to stop the monkey to protect his family, while Bill is more focused on putting their past to rest. This clash between the brothers creates a tense dynamic, amplifying their unresolved issues and the grief they’ve carried for so long. This is where you can really feel the monkey’s curse as a metaphor for the baggage parents, unintentionally or not, pass down to their children.

The monkey isn’t just a toy – it’s a manifestation of fear, guilt, and unresolved pain. Each time it appears, it serves as a reminder of the past that the brothers can’t escape, no matter how much they try. What sets The Monkey apart from many horror films is its unique approach to illustrating the latter and its overall discussion about death. The inevitability of death is presented both through shattering grief and also the grotesque and absurd; this mix when concocted creates a whiplash of emotions with its juxtaposition of humor with the grim reality of our existence. This adds depth to the film’s themes and often can delight and surprise with the sounds of laughter. The film suggests that laughing at what we fear – whether it’s the loss of loved ones or the uncertainty of our own end – can be a way to cope. The deaths in the film are strange and exaggerated, but also incredibly hilarious in a way that makes the terror of journeying toward the end feel more bearable.

The Monkey is certainly not your typical horror film. It doesn’t rely on traditional scares, but instead explores the real fears we have of the unknown, of being unable to protect those we love, and the lasting impact of grief and trauma. With its mixture of humor, suspense, and emotional depth, it presents a fresh take on the horror genre, reminding us that sometimes we have to laugh in the face of the monsters we can’t see. 

Follow us on MSN for more content like this.

Grade: A

The Monkey

When twin brothers find a mysterious wind-up monkey, a series of outrageous deaths tear their family apart. Twenty-five years later, the monkey begins a new killing spree forcing the estranged brothers to confront the cursed toy.