The Monkey

Perkins consciously assumes the sense of chaos to shape a story that, by unexpectedly combining the 'indie' sensibility with that of the bloodiest 'blockbuster', offers results as uneven as they are striking. [Full review in Spanish]

If you’re willing to dig past The Monkey’s blood and guts, you’ll find a thoughtful inquiry into the very different lives of people depending on their response and disposition toward the random, inordinate, and callous suffering around us.

The film, shot in oily gloom by Nico Aguilar, sets out to dispatch every passerby in fashions that would appal Caligula. Good old-fashioned disgusting fun. I had a blast.

This is a riot of a film and I pretty much enjoyed every moment of it.

Perkins’s film never explains how the monkey migrates so much, but follows it from pillar to post on an equal-opportunity killing spree. As spectacle, it’s garish.

A horror film can’t survive on kills alone, and the narrative of The Monkey — for all the movie’s craft and pedigree — is the worst thing a horror saga can be: boring.

It attempts to examine the inevitability and unpredictability of death but smothers all reflections with generous dollops of broad humor and outlandish gore.

Perkins is not known for comedy, but The Monkey is brutally, laugh-out-loud funny and features some of the most unique deaths ever in a horror movie, and extreme blood and gore. It’s not for the faint of heart.

An excessively gory horror outing that doesn't concern itself too much with the narrative might be just fine for some folks, but for those looking for a decent amount of substance, unfortunately they're not likely to find this quite satisfying enough.

The Monkey is a master class in tone. Osgood Perkins’ ably demonstrates that violence, gore and big laughs can exist simultaneously on screen.