The Monkey (2025) Review

There are few writers whose output is as prodigious as Stephen King. With over 65 novels and countless short stories to his name, the master of the macabre has kept Hollywood busy for decades. However, for every frighteningly brilliant ‘Misery’ or ‘The Shining’, there’s a lacklustre ‘Cell’ or ‘Mercy’ lurking in the shadows, reminding us that not all adaptations are created equal.

Fresh off his massive hit ‘Longlegs,’ Osgood Perkins is the latest director to try his hand at a Stephen King tale of terror. ‘The Monkey,’ based on the short story of the same name, follows Hal Shelburn and his twin brother Bill, whose childhoods are derailed by a sinister toy monkey with a talent for triggering untimely, gruesome deaths. Years later, the monkey resurfaces, and Hal must confront both the literal and emotional baggage he thought he’d left behind.

With its elaborate death sequences and darkly comic tone, ‘The Monkey’ invites easy comparison to the ‘Final Destination’ films. It’s gorily over-the-top, frequently funny, though never quite earning a place in the pantheon of great King adaptations. It’s not a disaster by any means, but it is uneven: the scares are sporadic, characterisation slim and the film’s sense of humour often undercuts its own tension. The narrative also lacks the psychological depth that made ‘Longlegs’ so unsettlingly compelling.

To his credit, Perkins is clearly reaching for something more than jump scares and blood splatter. There’s an admirable attempt to blend horror with dark humour and a melancholic parental dynamic that lends the film a touch of emotional heft. At its best, the film gestures toward themes of grief, inherited trauma and the quiet terror of watching your children face the same darkness you did. Moreover, beneath the evil banging of the monkey’s drum lies a meditation- albeit a muddled one- on the one thing we all have in common: the certainty of death.

Sadly, these weightier ideas don’t always cohere. The tonal shifts are jarring, and the emotional beats often get drowned out in the noise. It’s a film that wants to make you laugh, jump and maybe even cry- but doesn’t quite commit fully to any of the three. Further, when the monkey isn’t onscreen doing what it does best- maiming and murdering- things drag. The stretches in between the carnage feel oddly lifeless, padded with exposition and domestic drama. The whole affair suffers from a dearth of tension, while the emotional stakes never quite land with the force they should.

What the film lacks in narrative cohesion, it nearly makes up for in atmosphere. Perkins’ direction is confident, and Nico Aguilar’s cinematography- handled with a steady, stylish hand- elevates even the narrative’s dullest stretches. The lighting is often moody and expressionistic, with deep shadows and rich colour palettes giving proceedings a dreamy, timeless quality. Whether it’s a blood-slicked bathroom or a flickering attic filled with childhood relics, every frame feels carefully composed, as if trying to will a better film into existence through sheer visual craft.

Additionally, the production design evokes a lived-in, slightly off-kilter world where nostalgia curdles into unease. The monkey itself- aged, grimy, and grotesquely toy-like- is a highlight of the film’s tactile creepiness. The special effects and scenes of bloodshed are visceral, with a darkly comic edge; easily the best aspect of the film. Further, Edo Van Breemen’s score adds a haunting, discordant undercurrent, though occasionally leaning too hard on the eerie whimsy, blurring the line between unsettling and self-conscious.

The sound design, on the other hand, is razor-sharp- each crash on the monkey’s drum lands with a wince-inducing jolt. The editing is less consistent: while some sequences are slick and rhythmic, others feel slack, sapping momentum just when things should tighten. It’s technically polished, but not always paced to keep the tension simmering.

The performances, much like the film itself, are a mixed bag. Theo James delivers a solid turn as the haunted Hal, playing the role with just enough clenched-jaw intensity to sell the trauma without tipping into melodrama. He’s compelling when the material allows, though his character is more of a vessel for themes than a fully fleshed-out person. As Hal’s identical twin Bill, James turns it up to eleven and is as over-the-top as the material requires.

The supporting cast have less to work with, though some still manage to shine. Tatiana Maslany, Elijah Wood and Rohan Campbell make the most of their limited screen time, elevating their thinly drawn characters. Others, however, blur together into a Greek chorus of exposition and emotional hand-wringing.

Despite some great scenes of gory grotesquerie, ‘The Monkey’ ultimately feels like a film caught between instincts- too camp to be truly scary and too scattershot to say anything lasting about grief or death. There are flashes of something sharper, weirder and more affecting buried amidst all the blood and guts, but it never quite takes shape. Although Osgood Perkins remains a filmmaker of intrigue and ambition, and the scenes of carnage are terrific, this King adaptation- like so many before it- is nothing to go ape over.