‘The Front Room’ Review: A Horror-Comedy That’s Neither

The front roomThe new horror comedy from filmmakers Max & Sam Eggers and A24 has a solid script and a game cast, but it’s not particularly scary or funny. It’s surreal, clever, and occasionally visually offbeat enough to fit the “indie horror” mold, but a little too unsubtle and crowd-pleasing to feel like an arthouse film. Such a balance is possible: There are episodes of Atlantafor example, which represent exactly what The front room aims to be — but is not achieved here. The front room is a good conversation starter, but part of that conversation will be, “Why isn’t this better?”

Brandy Norwood stars as Belinda, an anthropology professor who fears she’ll be stuck in an untenured assistantship forever, especially now that she’s about to have a baby. Tired of being ignored by her school’s administration, Belinda quits, which means the family must now make do with her husband Norman’s (Andrew Burnap) salary as a public defender. He, too, is looking for that much-needed promotion that will finally allow him to earn a steady living. Their only chance of keeping their home is to allow Norman’s abusive mother-in-law, Solange (Kathryn Hunter), to move in. Solange is a fundamentalist Christian who believes her special relationship with God has granted her supernatural powers, and as frustrating as it is to have a crazy old lady in your home, there’s an even worse possibility: What if she were not crazy? What if God was really on her side?

Solange embodies a cross-section of the ills of American society. She is proud to be a daughter of the Confederacy, but refuses to see how that is racist. She is proud to be a Christian, but her exclusive, self-serving version of Christianity would baffle the true Christ. Perhaps most importantly, she is an old woman who refuses to give up power. The next generation can rise on her terms or not at all.

Kathryn Hunter gives Solange a delightful blend of childish buffoonery and genuine menace. Hunter’s performance is enormous, almost as big as the character would be in an Adam Sandler comedy. And yet it often works because Solange herself is a huge villain, a passive-aggressive nightmare who exaggerates her own physical and emotional fragility in order to keep her enemies on edge. Her monstrousness in cinema is also enhanced by the sound design—which turns every step of her cane into a clap of thunder—and by the onscreen representation of all the different types of fluids her body can produce. The front room dispenses a lot of scatological humor and horror, usually at the same time.

Hunter’s dominance on screen distracts from Brandy Norwood, the film’s real protagonist. Belinda is a big role for the pop star/sitcom veteran and she seems up to the task, but it’s hard to tell, as her relatively quiet performance is simply overshadowed by the volume of Hunter’s.

The two stars often feel like they’re starring in two different movies: Brandy is in a typical A24 horror thriller, grappling with layers of situational and generational trauma, while Hunter is in a broader, more ridiculous film, more slapstick or gross-out horror comedy. The attempt to straddle these two moods prevents either from taking over. The front room is filled with scary ideas and funny ideas, but nothing really scary. scenes and only a few hearty laughs. Instead, its standout moments all come from its grotesque but painterly dream sequences, which feel like they’re chasing after Max and Sam Eggers’ more famous brother, A24 darling Robert Eggers. (Max was a co-writer on Robert The lighthouseand there’s a hint of that film’s psychosexual disgust here.) They may have managed to pull off one or even two of those tones, but all three together don’t work.

So there are probably three best versions of The front room that could be made from the same script, and it’s hard not to spend the hours after watching it thinking about the movies it could have been. Critics are supposed to avoid judging a film for what it is. is notand let the film tell us how it should be appreciated and evaluated. The front room has a clear narrative, a clear point of view, and a clear message, but no clear approach. Does it need to be funnier? Does it need to be scarier? Does it need to be more abstract or more opaque? The answer to each of these questions is “yes.” What remains is a film that leaves a lot to be desired.