THERE are horror films that aim to terrify, thrillers that keep audiences on edge and then there is The Monkey, a film that gleefully bludgeons, dismembers and obliterates its characters with a level of nonchalance that can only be described as artful madness. Osgood Perkins, known for crafting eerie atmospheres (Longlegs), takes a sharp left turn into an absurdist horror-comedy territory, blending extreme gore with an almost playful detachment.
Based on Stephen King’s short story, The Monkey is a film that does not simply depict death, it celebrates it, parades it around like a carnival attraction and invites the audience to laugh at its sheer unpredictability. Yet, beneath the blood-soaked spectacle lies a surprisingly charming tale of brotherhood, trauma and fate, making it more than just an exercise in gory excess.
