This is an advance, spoiler-free review of The Black Phone, which will debut in theaters on Feb. 2, 2022.
The Black Phone had big shoes to fill. Nearly a decade ago, the team of C. Robert Cargill and Scott Derrickson debuted Sinister. Their terrifying spectacle would strike fear in our hearts, with one scientific study ruling it the “scariest movie of all time." Five years prior (nearly to the day) to Cargill and Derrickson scaring the pants off ofus with Baguul and several nightmare children, Joe Hill was publishing his short story “The Black Phone.” Now, the stars have aligned and The Black Phone is making its way to the big screen with horror maestros Derrickson and Cargill adapting Hill’s chilling story — and their take thrillingly exceeds the already high expectations they've set up for themselves.
The first third of the film follows Finney (Mason Thames) and Gwen Shaw (Madeleine McGraw) as they navigate pre-teen suburban life in the '70s. Unfortunately for these siblings, bullies and scraped knees aren’t all they have to contend with. In addition to their drunk and sometimes abusive father (played by Jeremy Davies), there’s a kidnapper on the loose in their town, and he’s snatching up little boys left and right. It’s not long before Finney finds himself trapped in the basement of the terrifying mask-wearing Grabber (Ethan Hawke), and Gwen finds herself in a race against time to find her brother before it's too late.
This story is personal to both Cargill and Derrickson, a fact that's highlighted not just by the relatability of the kids’ story, but through the stark set pieces of the ‘70s that play a more pivotal role than some may expect. While some viewers from the younger generation may balk at parents' use of belts and fists, plenty born before 1990 may sink back in their chair and recall some not-so-fond memories from their childhood. Was it monstrous? Sure. Was it commonplace? More than “kids these days” will ever know. The Black Phone feels like a time machine with no interest in stereotypical nostalgia. It doesn’t look like the '70s. It feels like it. There’s a grit there, and it’s not just because of the dirt basement. The authenticity of the backdrop paired with the honest portrayals of youth in that era make it clear that there’s a connection here between the creators and their story. Said authenticity is what makes it so easy to find yourself lost in and subsequently terrified by the world that they’ve created.
Because a good chunk of The Black Phone takes place in the aforementioned dirt basement, the film has to rely on the talents of its cast to keep us intrigued more than some other stories. Thankfully, Mason Thames and Madeleine McGraw were up to the challenge. At the film’s Q&A at Beyond Fest, Derrickson revealed that they held the production for McGraw when scheduling conflicts arose. The studio wanted to recast, but Derrickson refused. It's easy to see why the director was so staunch, and it was absolutely the right move. A lot of attention — and thus, a lot of the praise — will rightfully be for Thames’ stellar performance as his character is forced to stand up for himself in the face of a monster. But McGraw’s contributions to The Black Phone cannot be understated. The fierce little sister trope may have become more common of late, but this kid’s comedic timing is impeccable. She effortlessly switches between snark, despair, and fear.
Hawke — who doesn’t typically play villains — has to emote solely through his eyes while relying on the painted expressions of whichever mask his character was wearing at the time. Given his filmography, we’ve always known what the actor was capable of bringing to the table, but The Black Phone presented new challenges that Hawke rises to meet on every occasion. The dude is terrifying. Playfulness shifts to sinister intentions on a dime, and it’s all showcased by a guy with a hidden face, a terrifying voice, and haunted, emotive eyes.
The scares here are never cheap. You’ll jump, to be sure, but every ounce of distress is well earned. The supernatural element supports the terror, but it’s the reality of Finney’s situation and Hawke’s unnerving Grabber that keep the tension throughout the story. Though abuse plays a role in The Black Phone, there’s never anything overtly sexual. You never have any question about the Grabber’s sick impulses, but the film expertly illustrates that you don’t have to show something so explicit for it to be real to the audience. It’s the threat of what he will do that keeps the story grounded. A more overt approach would've cheapened the story.
The Black Phone is remarkable for a host of reasons — some of which we won’t discuss here because they’re best experienced in the film — but something that stands out is how much it feels like Sinister’s sibling. There are so many similarities between the movies, from creepy kids, home videos, and less-than-perfect parents. Despite those similarities, though, this film manages to be something completely independent. It’s hopeful in ways that Sinister never was (and shouldn’t have been), but there’s also seemingly no solution to the horrors that Finney and Gwen face. You’ll see strong parallels between the Grabber and the kids’ alcoholic father. One hurdle can be leapt if the kids play their cards right. The other, though, lays in wait even if Finney manages to be the first kid to escape his captor. The aforementioned hope is less in Finney and Gwen’s circumstance and more in their connection and power as a team, and it cannot be stressed enough how well these children play siblings. You’re going to care about a kid escaping this situation no matter what because, well, you’re a decent human being. But their relationship and relatability is what keeps you engrossed in their story.