Thursday, 21 April 2016

16/04/16 The Boy (2016)

A young American lady comes to England to take a child minding job whilst the parents are on holiday.
Rather than looking after some terrible little wanker in a new-build housing estate, it's in a large, isolated house in the sticks called, like, Ominous Towers, or Loomingdread Hall or somesuch.

Anyway, turns out that the family's a bit odd. The parents appear to be in their early seventies and oddly secretive, and their son, Brahms, is a weird little fellow. He doesn't move much, stares a lot, dresses strangely and is a medium sized wooden doll.

I nearly wrote chod minding job in that first paragraph. Can you imagine that, being paid to look after someone's bum biscuits? Anyway.

So the parents go on holiday and the baby sitter thinks she's landed the world's cushtiest gig, having a big house to herself, and pretending to take care of the world's gayest looking action figure. The chap from the local village who delivers essentials -apparently every half an hour. They sure get through a lot of stuff in that house- quickly becomes a chum and potential love interest, and all seems well for the first evening.

However, things start going a bit funny and Brahms appears to be a little more animate than his non-fleshy status would suggest, at first he's yer standard creepy doll type thing, then apparently begins developing a bit of a crush on his temporary carer. Well, she is a good looking lady.

For a large part of the film I struggled to watch it seriously as every time the childminder was in her undies or taking a shower, I expected the camera to pan round and see Brahms *ahem* polishing his woodpecker, or a least a shot of a keyhole with a faint rapid *knock knock knock knock* noise coming from the other side.

"Brahms, what are these little piles of sawdust in my shoes?" 

Yes, I am in my '40s and amuse myself with the thought of small, pervert mannequins.

Predictably enough, with all films involving creepy houses and possessed dolls, it all goes a bit wonky as Brahms may not be as harmless and playful as thought.

Most reviews of this have said that the story is derivative but performed well, I can go along with that, and I enjoyed its old fashioned spookiness.
It must also be said that I've seen thousands (by now literally so) of horror films and one scene in this, the 'mirror emergence', actually did give me the creeps. Not "Ooh, that's a bit odd" but the full-on "Fucking hell! What the shitting balls is this?!"

So for that alone, I'm gonna say job well done.


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