It seems like everyone has their own unique encounter with the work of Osgood Perkins, whose directorial career has been the very definition of a slow-burn, gradual rise to acclaim. Most filmmakers working in the proverbial field of “elevated horror” (a vulgar term if there ever was one) tend to emerge as major voices right from the start, but it took Perkins several films to establish himself as an essential voice, partly because he didn’t make films that immediately grab the viewer’s attention, but rather sneak up on us, taking the audience by surprise. He started with sinister confections like The Blackcoat’s Daughter and Gretel & Hansel, both of which were exceptional films, but it took until Longlegs for his name to get firmly established within the culture – which is oddly ironic since he bears the name of his father, arguably one of the most iconic figures in the history of the genre. Needless to say, he’s now starting to be seen as a major talent, and his most recent offering is all the more proof that we need to his gifts, with The Monkey being an adaptation of the Stephen King short story of the same title, which follows a few decades in the lives of twin brothers who could not be more different, but share the same fundamental fear of a seemingly sentient toy monkey that has the power to brutally murder anyone at random, leading to the twins being orphaned at a very young age, and who live their lives as profoundly disturbed adults, insistent on destroying this entity that has caused them so much trouble over the years. A deranged and hilarious work that once again shows that Perkins is nothing if not a thoroughly ingenious filmmaker with a unique vision and a deeply fascinating sensibility, The Monkey is perhaps the year’s first truly great work of horror, and a film that keeps us wholeheartedly engaged and deeply and profoundly disturbed in every conceivable way.

At a cursory glance, King and Perkins seem to be slightly odd bedfellows, since despite working in horror for many years, they seem to have very different styles and interests, and their paths seemed unlikely to cross – Perkins dabbled in more quiet, sinister terror, whereas King enjoyed constructing broader, less intricate narratives that have populist appeal but are often turned away by those who want something more unexpected. This clash in ideologies is ultimately the reason The Monkey works so well, because it evokes a few common connections between the writer and the director, primarily that they both craft stories about much deeper issues than those which we see on the surfaces, which lead to some unexpectedly engaging and often quite disarming ideas, tailored to create something much more engaging than any of us may initially expect. The core theme that drives this film is family, particularly the loss of loved ones. By this point, there are a dozen horror films every year that are based on trauma or the grief of losing someone we love, and it is becoming far too predictable. The Monkey is special in the fact that it doesn’t hide its intentions, but openly expresses them from the start – there’s very little ambiguity here, the narrative is profoundly predictable and perhaps slightly tacky, but its never uninteresting, and in exploring certain very common horror tropes – the uncanny experience of being terrorised by something seemingly innocous and harmless, the clash between twin siblings (essentially the “good twin vs. evil twin” dichotomy) and the experience of processing trauma – are all woven into the fabric of this narrative, which proves to be a much more compelling work than we may have expected based on a quick glance, and is a credit to Perkins for being able to handle this material in a way that is interesting but never too self-obsessed to lose sight of its meaning.

After his previous film Longlegs was marketed as one of the most disturbing and bleak horror films of the current era (which may be slightly overblown, but it’s certainly a repulsive little gem of a psychological horror), it makes sense that Perkins went in a very different direction. Every one of his five films is unique in story, structure and tone, and it is clear that he is not someone who relishes in resting on his laurels. The contrary is probably more true – he enjoys the art of subverting expectations as he undergoes his unique journey to tackle every conceivable sub-genre in horror, proving that someone does not need to rely on the same techniques to draw our attention and become an essential voice in the genre. As his first comedy (or rather, the first film in which the comedy is front-and-centre, since Longlegs had quite a few moments of harrowingly bleak miserablist dark humour, some of which was entirely unexpected), he had a lot to work with in terms of establishing a clear set of ideas, each one tailored to the specific circumstances reflected on screen – and he certainly proved himself to be more than capable of handling several tricky tonal shifts, each one jarring but intentionally so, creating quite an unsettling blend of ideas that perfectly matches with not only the timbre of King’s writing (which has become more absurd and offbeat as he has aged and grown more experimental), but also Perkins’ clear penchant for peculiar narratives. Rarely have we found a film that manages to be both outrageously funny and brutally macabre, while still retaining some semblance of elegance and nuance, which is a credit to the director, whose vision and approach to the narrative never aims for the low-hanging fruit, but instead goes in search of something much more profound, as unusual as that may be for this particular kind of narrative, which is strengthened by its inadherence to conventions.

Casting has always been key in King adaptations, since he writes characters that are ambigious enough to be tailored to any actor, but still require a significant amount of effort from those who decide to partake in bringing these characters to life. Theo James is similar to Perkins insofar as he has been working for a while, but it has taken many years for him to grow into having a more positive reputation, each new performance proving to small sections of the audience that he is a genuinely gifted actor and someone who can command the screen with more than just his dashing good looks. The Monkey allows him to prove himself yet again – in fact, it gives him two opportunities, since he is portraying twin brothers. This is not a rare technique to have the same actor play siblings, but it is a sign of a very promising approach when we forget that we are watching a single actor deliver two performances, rather than real-life twins playing against each other. James does have the benefit of playing the characters separately for the most part (the earlier scenes where the twins are teenagers features them together much more, so credit must go to the young but brilliant Christian Convery, who does convince us that we are watching two different actors, to the point where its surprising to discover its the same actor), but he still puts in an enormous amount of effort to draw distinctions between the two. It’s a masterclass in performing in a horror, with the combination of broad moments and more intricate details creating a pair of wonderful performances, so much that we don’t even allow the cavalcade of small roles (such as Adam Scott and Elijah Wood) to register. Only Tatiana Maslany, in a small but substantial part as the twins’ grieving mother, manages to distract us in her brief but memorable appearances, making The Monkey a film that brings out some surprisingly strong work in its cast.

The Monkey is a tremendously good time, being as hilarious as it is frightening, a combination that has become far too infrequent considering many films that aim to blend both do so in a manner that places too much emphasis on one or the other, rather than a precise balance. Perkins is someone I have admired for a few years, so its hardly surprising that he’d thrive with this film, considering the material was already tailor-made for someone with the right vision (and King’s stories are always profoundly cinematic, just requiring the special touch from the right director to be fully effective) and a certain perverse je ne sais quoi to bring all these ideas to life. Driven by a committed performance from James, who is bound to be given even more opportunities to tackle these more complex roles going forward, shrouded in a sense of delightfully deranged humour that underlines (rather than contradicts) the more grotesque moments – if your face is not contorted into a mangle combination of horror, delight and confusion at at least one point in the film, something has gone severely wrong – and tied together by some very impressive, atmospheric filmmaking that showcases Perkins’ precise blend of talents, The Monkey is a terrific film, one that keeps us wholeheartedly entertained, telling a solid story and never overstaying its welcome, playing like one of those perverse 1970s cult horror films that tackle important subjects without ever once taking themselves too seriously, which only makes this film even more delightful.