The Monkey (2025) | Review

It’s not the Chinese Year of the Monkey, but cinematically it is. In the past several months, we’ve seen simians take center stage in Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, Monkey Man (in name only), and Better Man (Robbie Williams’ biopic which depicts him as a chimp). And now we have The Monkey.

In a cinematic landscape glutted with self-serious horror, Osgood Perkins’ The Monkey arrives like a wind-up toy of chaotic glee, as said toy happens to cause spectacular, gory deaths with each turn of its killer key. Adapted from Stephen King’s Skeleton Crew short story (and swapping cymbals for a deadly drum), this film represents Perkins’ merry pivot from the slow-burn dread of Longlegs to something far more tonally adventurous and splattery.

The premise is deliciously absurd: identical twins Hal and Bill discover a cursed toy monkey that causes random, Final Destination-esque deaths whenever it beats its little drum. Flash forward 25 years, and the adult brothers (Theo James, far too handsome to be believable as either a dorky divorcé or his shut-in evil twin with what can only be described as “Lloyd Christmas hair”) must reckon with the resurfaced monkey. Hal has it doubly hard, as he must contend with the pint-sized nemesis while reconnecting with his estranged teenage son (Colin O’Brien, a King adaptation alum from 2022’s Mr. Harrigan’s Phone).

Perkins treats the source material as a springboard rather than scripture, transforming a straightforward horror tale into a darkly comedic romp. The deaths arrive with jarring suddenness—blink and you’ll miss the lovingly-crafted gore as bodies are pulverized, heads detached, and wounds rendered in nauseating detail. These moments provoke simultaneous recoils and cackles, a tricky tonal tightrope that Perkins navigates with admirable dexterity.

The film is positively stuffed with Easter eggs for the Stephen King faithful—an antiques shop reminiscent of Needful Things, a character named Annie Wilkes (hello, Misery), and a gleeful Gremlins nod via a “no food after midnight” hotel sign (while the Gremlins movie is not King, the vehicle of choice in his original short story is a Gremlin). Even the Ramones get acknowledged through a Joey-lookalike character, a shaggy nod to their Pet Sematary soundtrack contribution.

Curiously, despite being set in 1999 and 2024, The Monkey sports a distinctly retro aesthetic that feels more Nixon-era than Y2K, with period-inappropriate wardrobe choices and a puzzling scarcity of cellphones. It’s a bizarre creative decision that neither fully commits to nostalgia nor accurately depicts its stated timeframe—like watching someone cosplay the 70s while claiming it’s the digital age.

James delivers two dryly comedic performances that accentuate the story’s knowing absurdity, though he’s most compelling when playing against the actor portraying his son. Brief appearances by Tatiana Maslany and a criminally underutilized Elijah Wood as Hal’s ex-wife and her condescending new partner add star power without much substance. Perkins even gets in on the action as the boys’ sideburned, swinging uncle (makes sense, as he started off as an actor, following in the footsteps of his dad, Psycho’s own Anthony Perkins).

Cinematographer Nico Aguilar creates a steady stream of striking visuals that maintain an undercurrent of dread even in seemingly banal moments, though the sepia-saturated tones once again belie the modern setting. The music is fine, but it’s jarringly retro, never making us feel as though we’re in the ’90s or present day. Same with the set decoration.

That cursed toy—which possesses an uncanny knack for popping up at maximally inconvenient times—never ceases to unnerve despite repeated appearances. But what’s lost amid the carnage is emotional resonance. The Monkey’s plot gestures toward exploring how grief drives people to extremes, but that idea drowns beneath Perkins’ gooey gags and snarky one-liners. The film’s snide, gross-out humor provides consistent jolts but lacks the eerie touch Perkins brings to pure horror.

Nevertheless, The Monkey stands as possibly the more Grand Guignol King adaptation to date and certainly Perkins’ most entertaining work. It’s Stephen King through-and-through—filtered through a lens that’s more Maximum Overdrive than The Shining. The film culminates in an absolutely bonkers finale that will leave viewers simultaneously baffled and eager for a rewatch.

Like its titular toy, The Monkey may be ridiculous, but it’s impossible to look away from the chaos it unleashes.