A man in his thirties travels to a remote cabin to reconnect with his estranged father.
I recently wrote about how Willem Dafoe may be one of our most underrated actors. After watching Ant Timpson’s demented, hilarious and highly original horror-comedy “Come to Daddy,” I began wondering the same thing about Elijah Wood. Forget the behemoth that was the “Lord of the Rings” saga for a moment (although that trilogy, by itself, would be enough to elevate the actor into the echelon of the greats). Instead of committing to mindless blockbusters and “selling out,” Wood’s projects outside Middle-Earth – both as producer and actor – have been daring, unconventional and impassioned (“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” “Sin City,” “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Maniac,” the recent Nic Cage head-trips “Mandy” and “Color Out of Space”).
Now the actor adds “Come to Daddy” to this enviable list of accomplishments. Timpson’s film is a crafty horror thriller with plenty of gallows humor, but it’s also a subtle-but-scathing critique of millennials and an oddly touching examination of fatherhood, the secrets we keep from our children and how they shape them. It does a lot with a limited cast and setting, Timpson skillfully pulling the rug from under his audience at every twist and turn. Even if you consider yourself a film connoisseur, I guarantee – you will not see the “poop pen” coming.
When Norval (Elijah Wood) receives a letter from his estranged father inviting him to come visit, the purported “music producer” heads over to the man’s off-the-grid cabin, somewhere on the (presumably) California coast. He’s greeted by Gordon (Stephen McHattie), a drunk with a savage glint in his “raisin eyes.” They engage in an increasingly tense back-and-forth, Gordon’s alcoholism making Norval’s own demons resurface. The man challenges and mocks Norval: for his “successes” in the entertainment industry, for the androgynous, hip/douchy clothes he wears, for his general demeanor. Their interaction escalates…
…and to reveal the rest would honestly be a disservice to the mind-bending tale Timpson and his co-writer Toby Harvard have concocted. Without spoiling much of the plot, I will mention that there’s a brilliant dialogue sequence revolving around Elton John; a cop (Garfield Wilson) who seems to have walked straight off a David Lynch set; a man called Brian (Martin Donovan) who’s in dire need of Norval’s assistance; a multiple-stabbing in the groin; a miners’ convention that’s actually an orgy; oh, and a brain-puncturing. An otherworldly atmosphere of dread and claustrophobia permeates the otherwise darkly-comedic narrative, buoyed by the setting, the sparse, stark dialogue, and the committed performances.
Wood is brilliant. His Norval is insecure, resentful, searching for meaning and warmth and encountering horrors instead – horrors that drag him deep into the murk, disassembling his persona. Stephen McHattie is an absolute marvel as Gordon – his performance is comparable to those of Michael Parks at his best, fluctuating between malevolence/volatility, world-weariness and something more deeply cunning. Michael Smiley deserves special mention as Jethro, a greaseball with next-to-no redeeming features (except for his perfect line delivery).
Sure, it’s not perfect. Some questions arise (Why doesn’t Norval get the hell out at the first sign(s) of danger? What’s up with his mother, why isn’t she coming to her son’s rescue?), along with a few plot contrivances. Those flaws do little to distract from the highly-assured whole. Eloquent, relaxed and friendly, possessing none of the snobbery that a lot of actors half his age parade (believe it or not, Elijah will soon be 40!), Wood casually knocks another one out of the park. Those father-son baseball games must’ve paid off.
Opens in select theaters nationwide and On-Demand February 7th
