Mark Reviews Movies: THE BEACH HOUSE

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Review by Mark Dujsik | July 8, 2020

Director Jeffrey A. Brown's screenplay for The Beach House takes its time to arrive at its central conceit. Then, the movie takes yet more time to do anything with that idea. In other words, Brown's debut feature is over before it even seems to have a chance to start.

There is something to the movie's final 15 minutes or so, as the consequences of an invasion by a previously unknown creature are detailed in gruesome ways, before we gradually learn that the apparently localized phenomenon has a far wider reach than first appears. It feels like the start of an actual story. Brown's tale of uneasy, isolated horror, though, is coming to its finale.

The first half here is about Emily (Liana Liberato) and Randall (Noah Le Gros), a college-aged couple whose relationships has hit a rough patch. Emily is on the path to becoming an astrobiologist, a job which entails the study of life beyond our earthly understanding of it (This bit of character background is undeniably and amusingly convenient, considering the direction in which the story goes). Randall, on the other hand, suddenly dropped out of school and seemed to drop off the face of the planet. He and Emily haven't been in touch for a while, but now, Randall is hoping to get their relationship back on track with a weekend getaway to his family's vacation home near the ocean.

The opening shots of the movie, which watch as a strange black fog rises up from the ocean floor to the surface, hint at what's to come, but Brown, for good or for ill, delays any sort of payoff to that information. The decision is a mixed bag, perhaps.

On the positive side, we get to know the characters who are about to encounter something they can't quite understand—but need to, if they're going to survive. There's also something to be said about such deliberate pacing in horror tales. The anticipation of some shock or scare or, as is the case in the movie's second half, grisly sight is often as important as the payoff itself. If it happens without warning, we might get the jolt of a sudden, if fleeting, thrill. Knowing something is coming and being unaware of when it will occur, though, can maintain a lesser, if still palpable, thrill.

On the negative side, we get to know these characters, who don't have much going for them beyond that initial conflict of a relationship in trouble, that all-too convenient education, and that inevitable fact that they're going to be dealing with something beyond their understanding. There's a build-up to it, obviously, but the anticipation for the happening of an inevitable something is defined more by our impatience than our anxiety.

After some getting-reacquainted sex, Emily and Randall discover that there's another couple visiting the house. They're Mitch (Jake Weber) and Jane (Maryann Nagel), old friends of Randall's father, who have come here for some peace and quiet. Jane is severely ill, and Mitch thinks it would be good for both of them to spend a last getaway together. When Mitch insists that the two stay, Randall agrees for the both of them, despite Emily's objections.

In case it isn't clear by now, Brown's screenplay really does deflect any sense of expectation for what's to come. The meeting of the two couples arrives with a languid pace, and that's just the start. They eat, talk about the past and school, and wind down for the evening. That's when Randall suggests that all four of them eat some edibles ("Edible marijuana?" Mitch naïvely asks). As the high hits, they meander around the house. There's an odd, blue glow outside that draws Jane and then, looking for his wife, Mitch.

In the morning, everything seems fine, except that Jane is missing, Randall has some stomach issues, and Emily eventually notices (How does she miss it, really?) that a bunch of pink, fleshy pods are lined up on the edge of the water. That's when things finally, albeit half-heartedly, get started.

The rest of the movie dives into some straightforward horror elements, from people acting violently not-as-themselves to a protracted scene in which Emily tries to dig a burrowing worm-like thing out of her foot—using only a knife and some tongs. The visuals and staging here are a combination of mostly unnerving and occasionally laughable (The sight of those tongs gets a chuckle, and one infected person rolls down the stairs during a chase), but the second part of that observation is either intentional (It's not as if Brown is deadly serious during the lengthy build-up) or irrelevant, because humor comes as much of a relief as the discomfort after so many aimless story beats.

A final assessment is that, while Brown's conceptualization of this slow-burning horror tale is sound, the execution of it leaves a lot to be desired. The Beach House does build toward a horrifying, apocalyptic conclusion, but it probably would have possessed more of an impact if the whole of the movie, not just the second half, laid the groundwork for that idea.

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