The Black Phone

Director: Scott Derrickson
Starring: Mason Thames, Madeleine McGraw, Ethan Hawke, Jeremy Davies, E. Roger Mitchell, Troy Rudeseal, James Ransone, Miguel Cazarez Mora, Rebecca Clarke, J. Gaven Wilde, Spencer Fitzgerald, Jordan Isaiah White, Brady Ryan, Tristan Pravong, Jacob Moran, Brady Hepner, Banks Repeta
Running Time: 103 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

A crime thriller and supernatural slasher make for strange bedfellows in writer/director Scott Derrickson's The Black Phone. Adapted from a 2004 short story by Joe Hill (son of Stephen King), it's easy to see why this has gotten so much attention since there's much to admire, with some really affecting performances from its young actors and an outrageously villainous turn from a major star that feels like a drastic departure. It also sees the underrated Derrickson (Sinister and Dr. Strange) further proving his chops by bringing a certain amount of respectability and craftmanship to some familiar tropes we've seen executed far clumsier in the past. And even when mechanically fulfilling certain required beats of the plot, he still manages to keep tension high throughout, thanks in no small part to a realistically unnerving period backdrop.

Containing some effective jump scares, it opens as almost a 70's true crime docudrama before merging with a horror entry mainstream enough for its antagonist to draw comparisons to Michael Myers, Jason or Jigsaw. His methods and idealology might be different, but the spectacle is there, with an instantly iconic look that would sell truckloads of Halloween masks each year if not for the marketing hurdle that the villain's a child abductor. And that's the push-pull of this creep fest Derrickson admirably navigates with a visual aesthetic dripping in the era in which it takes place. Because of the disturbing subject matter, certain moments can be taken very seriously, as the gears grind on a plot that delivers extreme discomfort alongside its entertainment.  

In 1978 a serial kidnapper nicknamed "The Grabber"(Ethan Hawke) roams the streets of a small Denver suburb in his black van searching for his next target while siblings Finney (Mason Thames) and Gwen Blake (Madeleine McGraw) struggle to contend with their alcoholic, physically abusive father Terrence (Jeremy Davies). At school, the shy Finney is constantly bullied, with his only friend Robin (Miguel Cazarez Mora) coming to the rescue but recognizing Finney will eventually have to stand up for himself. 

With The Grabber's victims growing in number as Finney's classmates disappear, Gwen (who's inherited her late mother's psychic abilities) starts having dreams about the crimes that pique police  interest. But they'll need her help when Finney's abducted by The Grabber, awaking in a grungy basement with a disconnected black rotary phone on the wall ringing mysteriously. To escape, he'll have to listen to the voices of the previous victims making contact on the line, guiding him as he finds the courage to outmaneuver this masked monster. 

Establishing itself in a way most horror entries don't, this carries an aura of authenticity that completely draws you into the setting. From the sights and sounds to the 70's soundtrack and wardrobe choices, it's all more than mere window dressing when juxtaposed with news-style footage of the kidnappings. This overpromises in teasing a scenario you're just not sure Derrickson's script (co-penned by C. Robert Cargill) can deliver on, as we dread what potential creative concessions will come to make it more audience-friendly. Those eventually arrive, but for its opening stretch, a mood and atmosphere is established that feels truly unique. 

Believably creating a deep onscreen sibling bond, Thames and McGraw's performances are might be the film's biggest asset, as their scenes opposite a bearded, unhinged Davies carry a uneasiness matched only by the school-set bullying sequences. And a couple of those are realistically violent enough to seem completely at home in the era, relying far more on the build than copious amounts of gore. Derrickson also wisely keeps The Grabber out of view in the initial stages, saving most of the character's best scenes for when Finney ends up in his clutches. 

Coming and going as the plot dictates, Gwen's psychic visions are the story's weakest link, but McGraw's such a revelation in the role you overlook it, bringing humor, warmth and spunk to a girl who doesn't toe the line and is as protective of her brother as he is of her. Still, it's tempting to imagine how it all could have played without her Shining-like powers dictating the plot since so much of this is already strong enough on its own. While the supernatural flourishes don't ever quite reconcile with the viciousness of the actual crimes, an exception comes with a spectacularly filmed sequence where Gwen's visions take her inside the personal history of someone who could have all the answers.

If the black phone of the title connecting Finney to The Grabber's victims sometimes feels gimmicky, the cat-and-mouse game between captor and captive doesn't. It mostly overcomes genre contrivances since Finney's backstory as an under-confident pushover powers the narrative forward as he attempts to somehow gain an advantage on his abductor. With a handful of black balloons and a smiling mask inspired by Lon Chaney's character in London After Midnight, Ethan Hawke's all in as this deranged child murderer fronting as an amateur magician. It's hard not to draw comparisons to Pennnywise or a demented Willy Wonka, but Hawke makes this top-hatted madman his own and the last act delivers what's expected about as well as possible. 

All the ingredients were there for this to entirely break from convention and put more standard horror fare to shame, but that's just not what the source material is, earning the remainder of its points from Brett Jutkiewicz's cinematography and Patti Podesta's production design. Of Blumhouse's recent releases, The Black Phone stands as one of its more ambitious, doing enough to please devotees of Hill's short story and fans of the unquestionably talented Derrickson, whose best film is likely still ahead of him.                            

It Chapter Two

Director: Andy Muschietti
Starring: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader, Isaiah Mustafa, Jay Ryan, James Ransone, Andy Bean, Sophia Lillis, Jaeden Martell, Finn Wolfhard, Chosen Jacobs, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Oleff, Bill Skarsgård
Running Time: 170 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Endings have never been Stephen King's strong suit. This is worth mentioning since It Chapter Two seems to allude to that numerous times with a wink and a nod, as if audiences were already going into Andy Muschietti's sequel to his really great 2017 film adaptation of King's epic novel prepared for disappointment. After all, they've experienced it before, with 1990's underwhelming It TV miniseries having a particularly problematic second half marred by a wretched conclusion. But to lay the blame entirely at King's feet rather than the filmmakers tasked with translating his work through the years, isn't exactly fair.

You need only see The Mist or The Shawshank Redemption to realize how taking creative license with King's material can yield extremely satisfying results that enhance the themes of his storytelling. Muschietti's It was one of the good ones, delivering a Stand By Me meets Stranger Things vibe bolstered by the 80's era setting, perfectly calibrated child performances, and Bill Skarsgård's demonic turn as Pennywise The Clown. Part-horror, part coming-of-age nostalgia, you could call it the quintessential King adaptation in how it streamlines the author's over-indulgences while accenting his strengths.

Chapter Two was always going to be challenging in that it couldn't be a period piece with the same young actors, unless there's a big deviation from the novel preventing the inevitable time jump that sees all the roles recast with adult counterparts. Plus, there's just something about kids at that age being confronted with supernatural horror, just as their imaginations and emotions are already running rampant. Not only does everything seem more important during adolescence, but the stakes just feel higher when pre-teens experience a loss of innocence, forcing them to grow into who they'll eventually become, whether they're ready or not.

Now, we find out exactly who these kids become in a solid, if a little messy, sequel that does a lot right in avoiding many expected pitfalls. It helps that the same director returns with a nearly identical vision, and while it may take viewers a bit to get acclimated to the cast, Muschietti employs a very similar structure that works heavily in its favor, making for an effective, but undeniably overlong experience. But it's a testament to him that the nearly three-hour running time doesn't feel like the drag it so easily could have.

It's 2016 in Derry, Maine when a man is brutally attacked by a gang of homophobic youths at the town's carnival and thrown off a bridge, into the waiting arms of the murderous Pennywise (Skarsgård). After investigating the crime, Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa) realizes the clown has returned 27 years later and takes it upon himself to contact childhood friends Bill Denbrough (James McAvoy), Beverly Marsh (Jessica Chastain), Ben Hanscom (Jay Ryan), Richie Tozier (Bill Hader), Eddie Kaspbrak (James Ransone) and Stanley Uris (Andy Bean), summoning them back home to honor the promise they all made in 1989 as members of the Losers' Club to kill the clown if he ever returned.

All but Stan arrive back in Derry, but soon discover they only have partial memories of what occurred over two decades ago. But with Mike's help, everything comes flooding back and they're soon tormented by Pennywise with hallucinations from their own past and visions of the future, even as their tormentor seeks out new victims. Making matters worse is that teen sociopath Henry Bowers (Teach Grant) survived his fall into the well and is out for revenge, having recently escaped the mental hospital where he's been confined for his father's murder. Formulating a plan to stop Pennywise for good, the gang will have to make sacrifices of their own, retracing their steps as kids, and coming face-to-face with the painful memories they'd rather have remain buried. Only then, can they be prepared for what could be their final confrontation with Pennywise.

The film's opening is almost shockingly violent, and a reminder that this was a story that never played it safe or compromised in its first installment, and certainly not now, with the characters having long aged out of childhood. Homophobic attacks and sexual abuse aren't usually the first things that come to mind when considering King's catalogue, and while this entry does seem to be unusually hung up on the former, Muschietti deserves credit again for revolving Pennywise's supernatural reign of terror around the true-to-life challenges his victims face. Like its prequel, it doesn't hold back, again earning an 'R' which admittedly carried more of an impact the first time around with a cast comprised entirely of kids. While the genuine sense of danger, the ear for how the gang talked and felt, and Pennywise's attacks heightened the scare factor of the 2017 film, this seems more like a reunion, or greatest hits compilation of all the scariest story beats and scenes from that outing with a new cast.

The more the action gets going, the better it gets, as after all pleasantries are exchanged and we get a deeper read on the characters, you start to appreciate the tiny details and continuity that link the adult losers club protagonists to their childhood counterparts. Whether it's Bill's guilt over little brother Georgie's death at the hands of Pennnywise, Beverly's abusive upbringing, Ben's impossible crush on her, Richie's inability to fit in, or the long-term consequences of Eddie's terminally overprotective mother.

To its benefit, the narrative is flashback-heavy, cutting back and forth between the past and present, filling in details we weren't previously privy to, which takes some pressure off the new faces to top their predecessors. The biggest surprise is just how much the younger originals are in this, even if some of their scenes carry a visual awkwardness resulting from them having noticeably aged a couple of years. But mostly, it's done well, with each character's 2016 story mirroring the 1989 version, bolstering the unifying the two installments while further linking the chains that connect their traumatic childhood and adult experiences.

If there's one thing everyone knew we needed in this sequel, it was Jessica Chastain stepping in to continue Sophia Lillis' extraordinary work as Beverly. Rarely does a fan casting choice feel so obviously right on every level, and when the possibility of her playing the part suddenly became real, that hook was reason enough to continue. She doesn't disappoint, transforming young Bev's quirks into a darker, more psychologically wounded woman, while still retaining the character's tomboy spirit. In other words, she delivers exactly as predicted, with the added bonus of that uncanny physical resemblance to Lillis. Her and James McAvoy predictably shine, with the latter most registering when he needs to confront guilt-ridden Bill's mental anguish over his responsibility in Georgie's death.

Bill's career as a writer also becomes a clever meta device to reference Stephen King's aforementioned battles with endings, with the author himself even getting in on the joke with one of his more memorable screen cameos. The rest of the cast have varying degrees of success, with Bill Hader channeling the goofy eccentricities younger counterpart Finn Wolfhard brought to Richie and infusing it with an angrier adult sensibility. The bond between Ben and Beverly is revisited, this time with Jay Ryan attempting to project the formally awkward, bullied overweight new kid's insecurities as a handsome, successful architect. This sub-plot, which works better in flashbacks then present-day, should have been deeply affecting, but Ryan's kind of bland opposite Chastain, thus undercutting its impact as the story's big redemptive arc. There's also a distracting exposition dump involving Mike's theories on Pennywise's origins that make little sense and should have been excised entirely.

The cast does gel, just not to the level the kids did in the previous film, causing viewers to possibly readjust their expectations for a sequel already saddled with the burden of having to follow one of the best recent King adaptations. But Muscietti manages to tie things together at the film's most important point, and an extremely long third act where the narrative should be losing steam ends up being its highlight, aided in part by Skarsgård's less present, but still scary, performance as Pennywise and a strangely compelling final showdown wherein the script simultaneously juggles numerous narratives in the past and present. If nothing else, it's actually a well-edited three hours that doesn't leave you with that sinking feeling of disappointment prevalent in so many of the author's multi-part adaptations. Still a far cry from its first chapter, It's second half functions well enough as a companion piece to prove it was a story worth finishing.