Mark Reviews Movies: THE HUMANS

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Review by Mark Dujsik | November 23, 2021

A family—with a lot of secrets, lies, hidden resentments, obvious and unspoken health issues, no small amount of trauma, and a lot of judgment, slightly veiled in jokes and sarcasm—gathers together to celebrate Thanksgiving. It's likely the usual for a good number of families to one degree or another, but writer/director Stephen Karam transforms this mostly typical domestic drama into a horror show waiting to unfold. When that element ultimately does reveal itself, The Humans takes on an almost apocalyptic sense of terror and immediacy.

Mostly, though, the story, based on Karam's play, observes this family, as they chat, laugh, bicker and argue, hold grudges, and eventually—as individuals and a collective—arrive at a crossroads that puts everyone's future into question. The festivities—such as they are at the start, at least—are being held at the new apartment of Brigid (Beanie Feldstein), the youngest daughter of the clan, and her boyfriend Richard (Steven Yeun). It's in New York City, far enough from Brigid's hometown of Scranton, Pennsylvania, that her relatives feel a bit dismissed or rejected.

It's also close enough to the site of the September 11th attacks in the city that the young woman's father Erik (Richard Jenkins) is especially uncomfortable. The world is a scary and uncertain enough place, and Erik, who was only blocks away when the World Trade Center was attacked, wonders about and seems always prepared for the worst of what could happen.

Take, for example, how Brigid's mother Deirdre (Jayne Houdyshell) gifts the couple a statue of the Virgin Mary as a housewarming gift, since she's disappointed that Brigid has stopped attending church. Erik, meanwhile, gives the couple a box of emergency equipment, including some flashlights and an electric lantern. All of that portable lighting turns out to be fortuitous by the end, because the light bulbs or fuses of the apartment keep going on the fritz.

The two-floor apartment, by the way, looks like the epitome of disrepair. Well, it does to Erik and Deirdre, who are often seen in the story's many quiet moments simply staring at the place in general or at various quirks of design or signs of rot. Some early shots, before the family arrives, look up toward the sky from the interior courtyards of similar apartment complexes, and Karam establishes an immediate sense of drabness and confinement. When Erik looks out from the windows into the courtyard, that feeling intensifies—the fogginess of the windows, the grime on the glass, the inability to make out anything but silhouettes in neighboring rooms or the courtyard.

Some neighbors upstairs keep jumping or dancing, and it shakes the ceiling, rattling the chandelier to such a degree that Erik is convinced it will fall. He stares at metal pipes with electrical wiring, likely imagining some current or future problem, and the water damage forming mold or bubbles on the ceiling and walls. We get the skepticism and dismay, but we also kind of admire the way Richard tries to make the best of what he and his girlfriend can afford. While the family talks and gossips in an adjoining room, Richard sets up a portable projector, throwing the image of a crackling fireplace on one of the walls. He's a good and optimistic guy, this one, and as we learn a bit about his history, there's a lot of reasons he could have turned out quite differently.

As much as there is a plot here, it's about the way these characters quickly show who they are as the get-together unfolds, slowly reveal just how deep that sense of character is, and finally have to face what those internal issues have wrought on themselves and their relationships. It's ordinary stuff, and that's what makes it so achingly discomforting.

A couple of other family members figure into this, too. There's Brigid's older sister Aimee (Amy Schumer), who works as an attorney, recently ended and hasn't recovered from a long-term relationship with her girlfriend, and has some gastrointestinal problems that, while she says are under control, are much worse than she'll admit.

Erik's mother Momo (June Squibb) has come, too, although she's in the later stages of Alzheimer's and speaks in riddles to which only she knows the answers. The family keeps looking for some sign that grandma is still there, but such moments, such as when Momo recites grace with the others before dinner, are less frequent and fleeting.

The gathering is awkward and uncomfortable from the start. There's the parents' judgmental glares at and comments about the apartment. There's Deirdre's harping about religion. Aimee keeps excusing herself to use the restroom, and she's spends that time stewing over photos of her ex. Erik and Richard try to make small talk, but it's obvious their conversations will never become any larger.

Other details emerge. Erik has worked the same job in maintenance at a Catholic high school for almost 30 years, well past the time he started to get a discount on his daughters' tuition, and Deirdre has to keep working, too, watching as younger and newer workers get paid a lot more than she does. Aimee is likely to be fired soon, and Brigid, a struggling composer, can't find a way to earn a living in pursuit of her dream.

Beneath the personal and interpersonal discontent, Karam also provides moments that seem more fitting for a horror movie—jump scares, discussions about some ghostly figure from Erik's dreams, those damned light bulbs gradually turning the entire apartment dark. The Humans subtly builds toward its final display of terror, in which imagined nightmares and real trauma merge. It leaves more questions than solid answers, but that feeling of complete hopeless and helplessness puts everyone's experiences this night into a different, haunting context.

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