Coming as the revived bestselling author machine was still churning out film versions, without concern for excellence, The Black Phone felt like a lazy fanboy tribute. Set against a 1970s small town setting, high school cast, telepathic children and disturbing local antagonist, it was almost imitation and, comparable to the weakest the author's tales, it was also inelegantly overstuffed.
Curiously the call came from from the author's own lineage, as it was inspired by a compact narrative from his descendant, over-extended into a film that was a surprise $161m hit. It was the tale of the antagonist, a brutal murderer of children who would enjoy extending the process of killing. While sexual abuse was never mentioned, there was something unmistakably LGBTQ-suggestive about the character and the historical touchpoints/moral panics he was intended to symbolize, reinforced by the performer acting with a certain swishy, effeminate flare. But the film was too ambiguous to ever properly acknowledge this and even aside from that tension, it was overly complicated and too high on its exhaustingly grubby nastiness to work as anything more than an unthinking horror entertainment.
The next chapter comes as previous scary movie successes the studio are in desperate need of a win. This year they’ve struggled to make anything work, from Wolf Man to The Woman in the Yard to their action film to the total box office disaster of the AI sequel, and so significant pressure rests on whether the continuation can prove whether a short story can become a film that can generate multiple installments. However, there's an issue …
The original concluded with our protagonist Finn (Mason Thames) defeating the antagonist, helped and guided by the spirits of previous victims. It’s forced director Scott Derrickson and his collaborator C Robert Cargill to take the series and its villain in a different direction, converting a physical threat into a paranormal entity, a path that leads them by way of Freddy's domain with an ability to cross back into reality enabled through nightmares. But unlike Freddy Krueger, the Grabber is clearly unimaginative and entirely devoid of humour. The mask remains effectively jarring but the production fails to make him as scary as he briefly was in the original, constrained by complicated and frequently unclear regulations.
The main character and his frustratingly crude sister Gwen (the actress) encounter him again while stranded due to weather at a high-altitude faith-based facility for kids, the sequel also nodding in the direction of Jason Voorhees the camp slasher. Gwen is guided there by an apparition of her deceased parent and what might be their deceased villain's initial casualties while Finn, still trying to deal with his rage and newfound ability to fight back, is pursuing to safeguard her. The writing is overly clumsy in its artificial setup, clumsily needing to get the siblings stranded 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. Additionally seeming like a more strategic decision to guide the production in the direction of the similar religious audiences that turned the Conjuring franchise into massive hits, the filmmaker incorporates a spiritual aspect, with virtue now more directly linked with the creator and the afterlife while evil symbolizes the devil and hell, belief the supreme tool against this type of antagonist.
The result of these decisions is continued over-burden a franchise that was previously close to toppling over, adding unnecessary complications to what could have been a straightforward horror movie. Regularly I noticed excessively engaged in questioning about the hows and whys of feasible and unfeasible occurrences to become truly immersed. It’s a low-lift effort for Hawke, whose face we never really see but he does have genuine presence that’s generally absent in other areas in the acting team. The setting is at times impressively atmospheric but the majority of the consistently un-scary set-pieces are damaged by a grainy 8mm texture to differentiate asleep and awake, an unsuccessful artistic decision that feels too self-aware and designed to reflect the horrifying unpredictability of experiencing a real bad dream.
Running nearly 120 minutes, the follow-up, similar to its predecessor, is a unnecessarily lengthy and extremely unpersuasive justification for the establishment of another series. The next time it rings, I advise letting it go to voicemail.
Tech enthusiast and writer with a passion for exploring emerging technologies and their impact on society.