The Monkey – a brilliantly gory comedy with horror origins and a wind-up monkey that dispatches a large proportion of the cast (in UK and Ireland cinemas from 21 February)

More than a day after watching a screening of The Monkey, I still break out into a grin when I think back to the film. Often puerile, entirely gratuitous, and very funny. And no, this isn’t the (excellent) Robbie Williams film Monkey Man. It’s a new release, out in the UK and Ireland on Friday. The BBFC warning at the beginning mentions “strong gore”. But boy oh boy, it’s brutal, bloody, and intensely comic gore.

The premise is that twin brothers Hal and Bill – both played by Christian Convery in childhood and then Theo James as adults – inherit from their father a wind-up monkey that plays a drum. But turning the key to see what happens inevitably concludes with yet another funeral in a litany of gruesome deaths. The awkward celebrant at one of the first memorial service (played by Nicco Del Rio) deserves his own spin off. Tatiana Maslany makes an on-screen impact that’s greater than the script must have suggested in her small role as the twin’s mum.

Osgood Perkins’ screenplay is based on Stephen King’s short story, but rather than making a worthy movie full of fear, it dials the absurd up to eleven and has fun with the serious business of pruning the cast. (Perkins’ own parents died of Aids and on one of the September 11 passenger planes, so he has a personal connection to the trauma of death.)

As someone who can’t abide the tension being ratcheted up with angry strings and jump scares, The Monkey is a horror film that I can stomach. But other than nods to the genre – like a spot of teen bullying and some self-denial for the benefit of others – this isn’t really horror.

Yes, in the first few minutes someone’s intestines will fly across the screen like a string of sausages, but the context is always one of escapism and fantasy. Though let’s not dwell on the scene with the hornets: that will make you itch and shiver.

The joyous blood-spattered action calms down halfway through with a big jump forward in time. Suddenly there’s an evil lair with lots of televisions meaninglessly stacked up. Suddenly there’s exposition to slow down the pace of decapitation and accidental loss. The Monkey sags for nearly twenty minutes before stabilising its blood pressure for a wallpaper-splattering finale.

I’ve honestly never laughed out loud at such gore at 11 o’clock in the morning. And I feel a little guilty for doing so. The Monkey’s attempts to philosophise about the inevitability and unpredictability of death fool no one. The film is far from perfect. It’s blokey and would struggle to pass the Bechdel Test. Yet The Monkey’s low-budget gift is its success at being shallow and pleasantly trivial.

The Monkey is being screened in Queen’s Film Theatre, Omniplex cinemas, Movie House cinemas, Cineworld and the Odeon from Friday 21 February.

 

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