Osgood Perkins’ The Monkey is a wildly inventive, black-comedy horror ride that takes Stephen King’s 1980 short story and spins it into a gory, Rube Goldberg-style spectacle. The premise is deceptively simple: a cursed toy monkey that kills every time its cymbals clang. What results is a whirlwind of cartoonish yet disturbingly brutal death scenes, making this one of the year’s boldest and bloodiest horror films. It’s a film that embraces its heritage as a King adaptation but doesn’t shy away from making its own mark, merging pitch‑black humor, inventive kills, and a profound sense that death is as inevitable as gravity.
The story unfolds across two timelines. In rural Maine in 1999, young twins Hal and Bill Shelburn (both played by Christian Convery) stumble upon the old toy monkey in their attic and quickly learn that its music triggers a spree of horrific “accidents” — one of which claims their mother, played with conviction by Tatiana Maslany. The accident is a harrowing scene, one that lingers long after the credits because it captures the essence of the film: death arrives quickly, randomly, and often with an almost cosmic sense of humor. Decades later, adult Hal (Theo James) returns home to destroy the monkey for good and reunites with his estranged brother Bill (also played by James), only to find that death doesn’t forget and its grip is as strong as ever.
What shines brightest in The Monkey is the sheer audacity of its kills. Director Osgood Perkins embraces the R‑rated mayhem with a wink, filling the screen with elaborate, unpredictable deaths that feel like a blend of Final Destination and a Saturday morning cartoon gone horribly wrong. These sequences have a ghoulish inventiveness — from harpoon guns and flying weapons to brutal Rube Goldberg-style accidents — making each kill a nasty surprise. Yet amid the carnage, Perkins captures a strange, darkly comic tone, making the audience laugh even as they flinch. It’s this balance between grotesque spectacle and grim humor that gives the film its unique character.
The performances also help ground the movie in its moments of sincerity. Young Christian Convery shines in the dual role of Hal and Bill, capturing both the terror and guilt of boyhood with a depth that resonates throughout the film. In many ways, Convery is the emotional anchor, making the tragedy of the brothers’ childhood feel palpable. Adult Hal and Bill are portrayed by Theo James, who delivers a solid, subdued performance that captures the weariness and cynicism of a man grappling with trauma. James doesn’t overplay the emotion, which suits the story’s tone. Meanwhile, Tatiana Maslany delivers a memorable turn as their mother, making a relatively small role feel vital, poignant, and shockingly tragic.
The supporting cast — including Adam Scott, Sarah Levy, and Elijah Wood — adds to the quirky roster of characters that populate Perkins’ universe. Each actor brings a distinct flair to their role, making even the smallest character feel colorful and worth noticing. It’s a testament to Perkins’ direction that every scene, every kill, every line of dialogue feels meticulously crafted, making the world of The Monkey feel lived-in, unpredictable, and wholly captivating.
Some might wonder why the film doesn’t dwell longer on its moments of trauma or deepen its emotional beats. Yet that’s precisely the point. The Monkey is not about catharsis or slow‑burning psychological terror — it’s a gory, darkly comic spectacle that embraces death as a grim, slapstick inevitability. The lack of deep emotional resonance isn’t a failing here, but a feature: it allows the film to stay true to its nature as a pitch‑black cartoon about mortality. The kills are over‑the‑top and inventive, and the characters, while memorable, are intentionally kept just shy of melodrama. In doing so, Perkins delivers a film that captures death as both meaningless and riotously entertaining — a twisted dance that leaves viewers laughing and wincing in equal measure.
Clocking in at a tight 98 minutes, The Monkey is a gory, darkly comic spectacle that delivers inventive kills and a deliciously grim sense of humor. Its final statement — that death is as inevitable as the sound of a toy monkey’s cymbals — lands like a wink from the grave. If you’re in the mood for a gory, outrageous, and oddly whimsical horror film, this one delivers in spades. Its audacity, inventiveness, and sheer glee in its own madness make it one of the more memorable entries in the long legacy of Stephen King adaptations.
In the end, The Monkey may lack the emotional resonance of King’s best stories, like The Mist or It: Chapter 1, but it doesn’t try to match them beat for beat. Instead, it embraces its role as a wicked, inventive piece of genre filmmaking — a blood‑spattered reminder that death doesn’t discriminate, doesn’t wait, and doesn’t always come wrapped in a serious or sad package. Sometimes, it arrives with a wink, a laugh, and the clang of a toy monkey’s cymbals. And sometimes, that’s enough.
The Monkey will be available on DVD and Blu‑ray starting June 24. Don’t miss this gory, wildly inventive ride — it’s one you won’t forget anytime soon
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