“Something is wrong with Chucky,” says 13-year-old Andy Barclay (Gabriel Bateman) in the new horror movie “Child’s Play.” Anyone who grew up in the ten-year Classic Chucky era—1988 to 1998, from “Child’s Play” to “Bride of Chucky”—knows exactly what is wrong with the cute red-haired Chucky “Good Guys” doll; that he is actually a murderous piece of plastic containing the soul of a serial killer. Seven movies, a television series, comic books and video games later comes a new Chucky menace, starring Aubrey Plaza and Mark Hamill as the voice of the killer doll.
Plaza is Karen Barclay, a widower and mother of Andy. Looking to make a new start in a new town they relocate. “I know this move has been really touch,” she says to him, “but you said you were going to try and make new friends.” To help smooth the transition Karen buys Andy a new toy, a robotic Buddi doll that can connect to and control everything. “Remember, it’s refurbished,” she says, “so it may not work perfectly.”
The two become BFFs but playtime comes to an end when strange, deadly things start happening. As the bodies pile up Detective Mike Norris (Brian Tyree Henry) believes the boy and not the toy may be behind all the trouble.
“Toy Story” this ain’t.
“Child’s Play” takes liberties with the ideas from the original Chucky movies but retains the silly slasher fun that made this franchise so much fun in the first place. By cleverly updating the Chucky’s possessed scenario to involve technology gone amok, it’s a clever, blood-splattered commentary on our reliance on social media to fill a gap left by personal relationships. Add to that some 80s gore-inspired effects and a “Goonies” style cast of supporting characters and you’re left with a film that rides the line between retro and completely up to date.
For twenty years, from 1974 to 1994, Charles Bronson starred in “Death Wish” films as Paul Kersey, a successful New York architect turned vigilante after his wife was murdered and child assaulted. “If the police don’t defend us,” he growled, “maybe we ought to do it ourselves.”
In “Death Wish,” the new Eli Roth-directed reboot of the series, Bruce Willis steps in, beating out—but not beating up— Sylvester Stallone who was originally cast as Kersey.
This time around the backdrop is Chicago. Dr. Kersey (Willis) is a surgeon whose work in the ER gives him an up-close-and-personal look at the effects of violence in his city. He gets an even closer look at the carnage when home intruders viciously attack his wife (Elisabeth Shue) and young daughter (Camila Morrone). The healer turns killer, exchanging the scalpel for a gun, which he learns to fire by watching a YouTube show called Full Metal Tactics. “I love my family and when they needed me most I failed to protect them.” As bad guy bodies (and snappy one-liners) pile up he becomes headline news—the newspapers billboard “Grim Reaper Alerts”—but is he right to take the law into his own hands? Is he a folk hero or domestic terrorist?
With gun control front and center in public debate right now “Death Wish” could have been a timely and relevant film. It could ask questions. When does a good guy with a gun, shooting bad guys with guns, become a bad guy with a gun? It could have been a poignant film about a man pushed too far but there is nothing poignant about Roth’s reboot of the seventies series. It’s not a character study of grief or a portrait of Chicago’s escalating crime rate. Satisfied to take the low road, it’s a revenge film pure and simple. Audiences are meant to applaud every time Kersey blows away a bad guy and not think too deeply about the normalization of dangerous behaviour.
Willis, whose resume is dotted with charming hero types, plays Kersey as a wounded man who finds strength in his revenge. He’s locked, loaded and ready to rock. His most famous character, off-duty New York City Police Department officer John McClane, was always keen to dispatch a villain but he didn’t go hunting random victims or torture them once he found them. We are supposed to get the great contradiction of Kersey’s life—he’s a healer in the O.R. but a killer on the street—but the movie gives equal weight to the yin and yang. He’s a good guy because he cures people and a patriot because he rids the streets of undesirables. To be truly effective he must be one or the other. The muddy antihero middle is an ugly, exaggerated male violence fantasy. Is Kersey a folk hero or a killer? The movie can’t seem to decide.
“Death Wish” will provide ammunition for discussion, so that’s something. Gun violence has been a hot button topic when the first movie came out in 1974. It still is, but the conversation has changed.
