[yasr_overall_rating]
A boy seeks the help of a tree monster to cope with his single mum’s terminal illness.
I did not know what I was getting into when I sat down for “A Monster Calls.” If I had picked up on it being a cancer-drama, I may have passed on it. Cancer flicks can either shred your emotions, leaving you drowning in tears and snot, or they feel like a cheap trick and fall flat too easily and you walk out with a chip on your shoulder. J.A. Bayona’s “A Monster Calls” fits snugly in between. While it fails to deliver the the emotional weight that should be required of it, it doesn’t drown in sloppy-saccharin melodrama either. It has grit and the visuals are beautifully rendered. And I am definitely jealous I don’t have a monstrous ancient yew tree visiting me every night to tell me murky life lesson stories.
“A Monster Calls” is dark through and through. The only flickers of light are in the eyes of our Monster (Liam Neeson), and it’s a rageful flicker at that. The story begins with the nightmares of a young boy, Conor (Lewis MacDougall), whose life is wrought with bullies, a cold Grandma (Sigourney Weaver), and a spirited but dying Mum (Felicity Jones). The ancient yew tree, the Monster, comes to visit Conor, to help him through the telling of stories. Stories full of all the old archetypes but nothing is what it seems. The bad guy isn’t easily identified. Lines are blurred and Conor is having none of it. The point is lost on him, for the moment. While frustration and anger take hold of Conor, the Monster continues to help, making Conor strong, strong enough so that he may speak his truth even though he believes it may kill him to do so.
Lewis MacDougall is excellent. You can feel the anger and grief seethe out from him. He’s broody and brilliant. He exudes his pain without any affected overtones. The same cannot be said for Sigourney Weaver. While Sigourney is meant to be a bit chilly, a stiff, it comes off more like bad acting. Her performance is contrived and seems transplanted. It’s as if she’s not in the same film working on the same level as everyone else. It was as bad as a Lifetime Movie. And she may be the sole reason why the film fell flat, despite it’s visual innovations.
Aside from the fact this is a sad cancer movie and a cardboard cutout Sigourney Weaver would have been better than Sigourney in the flesh, “A Monster Calls” isn’t all that bad. Liam Neeson, as the ancient yew tree/Monster is CGI at its best, and the stories he tells are animated in a flush of watercolor brilliance. It’s mesmerizing. The film is well worth seeing for the stories alone. And while it may seem contradictory for me to applaud something so gloomy (as I have just ragged on cancer dramas), I am glad complex feelings about death, dying, and suffering are highlighted through Conor’s “truth.” While it may be morbid, or dark, and taboo even for some people, these feelings, these truths, are real and everyone (children included) have to face them. With “A Monster Calls,” I like that there’s simply no sugar coating it when it gets down to the nitty-gritty.
In theaters Friday, January 6th
