THE BLACK PHONE (2021)

Studio:     Universal Pictures/Blumhouse
Director:    Scott Derrickson
Writer:     Scott Derrickson, C. Robert Cargill
Producer:  Jason Blum, Scott Derrickson, C. Robert Cargill
Stars:     Mason Thames, Madeleine McGraw, Jeremy Davies, James Ransone, E. Roger Mitchell, Troy Rudeseal, Miguel Cazarez Mora, Ethan Hawke

Review Score:


Summary:

An abducted boy receives clues on how to escape his captor from the dead voices of previous victims who speak through a mysterious phone.


Synopsis:     

Review:

“The Black Phone’s” prologue establishes an entirely immersive setting without ever saying a single meaningful word.  From the pitcher’s mound, Finney stares down the batter, Bruce, in an intense yet friendly Little League rivalry.  Parents cheer while children jeer.  In between pitches, Finney concernedly glances at a group of giggling girls behind a chain-link fence, checking to see if he’s attracting the eyes of a crush only casually paying attention.  Bruce takes advantage of Finney’s distraction by taking him deep, resulting in celebratory elation for one side, and defeated disappointment for the other.  An angry coach who takes kids sports too seriously spikes his clipboard in frustration.  It’s a scene straight out of any Saturday afternoon in any average neighborhood, and “The Black Phone” uses it effectively to instantly teleport us to its distinct slice of 1970s suburbia.

With that foundation freshly formed, the movie immediately takes a jackhammer to the mellowed mood when a black van arrives for Bruce and all colors fade to grey.  “The Black Phone” cuts to a credit montage whose cinematic sense of how to be suggestively sinister seems stripped straight out of a Zodiac Killer true crime series.  Bloody kids apply bandages.  Vacant playground swings sway ominously.  Empty tennis shoes lie abandoned in grassy fields.  Missing person posters plaster poles.  Balloons float away into the sky.  With the added context of a film grain filter scratching each image while a shrieking soundtrack wails underneath, this clip collection delivers a complete background story about serial kidnappings with appropriately unnerving atmosphere to boot.

Beyond just his bloodline, author Joe Hill has repeatedly proven himself to be the heir to Stephen King’s patented brand of frightful fiction.  Based on Hill’s short story, “The Black Phone” features several prototypical pieces his father turned into personal hallmarks, which are apparently engrained in their family’s creative DNA.  That scent starts with a nose for period nostalgia on par with the strength of their scares.

Finney has sad eyes and scruffy hair, the kind of likable loner who finds fun in launching model rockets when he isn’t busy being bullied in the school bathroom.  He also excitedly talks about TV with his kid sister Gwen, with whom he shares a strong sibling bond.  Gwen comes equipped with a funny foul mouth to make her cutely endearing.  She also has the courageous conviction of a young Princess Leia, except when it comes to their stern father Terrence.  An alcoholic eager to whip out abuse with his belt, Terrence gets an extra boost to his blue-collar boorishness from being played by Jeremy Davies, who owns his own corner when it comes to portraying trailer trash chodes.

Kids riding bikes.  Convenience store pinball games.  Idyllic, innocent scenery disrupted by violence that comes from both self-absorbed peers and parents as well as a supernatural entity or a serial killer.  These are common King/Hill traits that work well because they ground fictional fantasies in relatable realities while being comforting chestnuts of familiarity to seasoned readers/viewers too.

Another ingredient from that reliable recipe is a hint of unexplained psychic phenomena.  In this case, Gwen occasionally has dreams that turn out to be predictive premonitions.  When a mysterious masked magician known as “The Grabber” makes Finney his latest kidnapped captive, Gwen’s visions, which she believes come from Jesus, whom she pleadingly prays to out of desperation, may be crucial to discovering Finney’s whereabouts.  More crucial, and just as spooky, is a disconnected black phone on the wall in Finney’s cement-walled cellar prison.  Through it, voices of victims previously murdered by The Grabber provide cryptic clues that Finney might be able to use to escape.

In typical fashion for this territory, Hill knows full well what he’s doing by keeping complete explanations for these supernatural occurrences up to a viewer’s imagination.  Maybe it’s God.  Maybe it’s something else.  Whatever it is, the blanks have just enough space for your mind to add in its own speculation so that element of the unknown makes the suspense that much stranger.

Keeping “The Black Phone” from contemporary cult classic status are a couple of hiccups that combine for a light cough the rhythm never fully remedies.  Extraneous minutes in the runtime come from a few dead-end dreams out of Gwen, repeated phone rings with no one on the other side, and pat plot beats like an escape that occurs too early, assuring freedom will be short-lived and recapture imminent.  Also, I appreciate an appearance from James Ransone as a dim-bulb screw-up as much as anyone, but his sub-thread as the villain’s oblivious brother offers no value except as an adult body to drop since the movie’s premise limits what it can acceptably depict with children.

Back to the boons though, “The Black Phone” has creepiness where it counts and makes sure that macabre mood always matters most.  Ethan Hawke embraces wicked weirdo mode full-on as The Grabber, sporting an instantly iconic Tom Savini-designed mask certain to become a Halloween staple.  Amidst its terror, “The Black Phone” turns in contemplative thoughts on a poignant theme of invisible kids whose names aren’t known until they go missing, and how they come together, even in death, to collectively defeat evil.  Thanks to the supernatural element, the story gets the right pinch of distance from “too close to home” horror to take the edge off so the child abduction angle stays unsettling without getting uncomfortably perverted.  Maintaining that grimness while still being eerily entertaining is a balancing act only the most adept acrobats can accomplish.  Thankfully, Joe Hill, director Scott Derrickson, and co-scripter C. Robert Cargill know their way around horror’s Big Top, and few creators can put together a more chilling circus than this one.

Review Score: 85