Body Cam (2020)

Horror films can, and often do, throw a bright light on parts of society that we don’t always want to look at, whether that is a major problem we don’t know how to improve or the worst aspects of human nature. So Body Cam deserves a point or two for using the genre to look at a problem that has been in and out of the news over the past few decades, with good reason. It’s all about police officers, and eventually turns into an exploration of certain individuals who can get away with murder because they’re wearing a badge.

Mary J. Blige is Renee Lomito-Smith, an officer just starting back to her duties after an incident that involved her hitting a member of the public. That incident was, of course, caught on camera. Keen to get back to work, Officer Lomito-Smith is also battling to stop herself from becoming consumed by the grief stemming from the sudden death of her young son. Out on patrol with Officer Danny Holledge (Nat Wolff), it soon becomes clear that someone is out to take out a number of police officers in a night of killing. That someone has some strange powers, or so it would seem, and they might just have a very strong motive for their actions.

Writers Nicholas McCarthy and Richmond Riedel have one or two decent ideas at the heart of their script, and maybe if they had worked with a strong third writer then this could have been something really good. Unfortunately, the whole thing ends up being a half-baked mess, completely I helped by the direction from Malik Vitthal. None of the characters are developed well enough, the plotting is careless and illogical, and it all builds to a final act that would be laughable if it wasn’t so confusing in how earnestly it seems to undermine some really . . . misguided decisions.

Blige does well enough in the lead role, and she's certainly the one person trying their best in this mess. She shows someone striving to do right, even after a major mistake, and she also conveys her worry and stress without horribly overdoing things. Wolff isn't too bad, but that's mainly because most of his scenes have him alongside Blige. David Zayas, someone I normally like seeing onscreen, is given a pretty thankless role, there are a lot of other people who make little to zero impression at all, and Anika Noni Rose is given the role of sympathetic protagonist.

I can see why some people might enjoy this as simple, lightweight, horror fare. It attempts to tell a decent story, provide some social commentary, and deliver a few jump scares here and there. Unfortunately, the apparent lack of care made it a miserable viewing experience for me, and other people may feel the same way. Because it's crap.

3/10

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Netflix And Chill: The Prodigy (2019)

There's probably a good movie to be made about The Prodigy, the British dance band that suffered the sad loss of charismatic member Keith Flint last year. There's so much energy and attitude there, and quite the journey through rave culture and beyond. Having said that, there's also probably a good movie to be made about a child prodigy. A "bad seed" child with the smarts and innovation to start killing many people they encounter without relying on the stupidity of others to avoid being caught. Or just a child mentally developing so rapidly that it causes them to lash out, mood swings and strong arguments being put on display that are far removed from the standard behaviour of a child at that age.

The Prodigy isn't any of those. It's a depressingly dull slog through familiar material, trudging from one predictable moment to the next, lacking tension, scares, and energy. If you ever decide to give yourself a triple-bill of home viewings and you pick The Prodigy as one of your options then place it in the middle, to be carried by the other two a la Weekend At Bernies.

Here's the plot, because I suppose I must. Taylor Schilling and Peter Mooney are Sarah and John Blume, and they have a son, Miles (Jackson Robert Scott). Miles is a very smart cookie. Which doesn't matter much, not until he starts to speak a different language in his sleep and show signs of being what is known in proper medical terminology as . . . an evil little shit. That's all I'll say. There IS more to it, but a) I don't want to spoil anything for those who like to know as little as possible, and b) I can't be bothered expending more energy on something so lazy and horrible.

Director Nicholas McCarthy has a decent filmography, from those I have seen. The Pact is a supernaturally-tinged thriller that worked well with genre tricks, while At The Devil's Door was an improvement, in terms of confidence and atmosphere. So it's a shame to see him take this big step back. I'm not going to give him all the blame though, because Jeff Buhler is the person who wrote the screenplay, and Jeff Buhler seems to be doing his best to upset horror fans recently, considering his work on this, Pet Sematary, the Jacob's Ladder remake, and The Grudge reboot/reworking/sequel. I really enjoyed his first screenplay over a decade ago, Midnight Meat Train, but perhaps that was more down to the vision of the director than anything that Buhler put on the page.

Cast-wise, there's nobody helping to make this more bearable. Schilling and Mooney are just present, Scott makes mean faces, usually changing suddenly after making sweet faces, and Colm Feore is the only one managing to stand out from the supporting cast that includes Paul Fauteux, Brittany Allen, and Paula Boudreau.

There's a minimum degree of competency in all departments, which saves it from being among the worst of the worst, but this is an absolutely dire mainstream horror movie. Viewers aren't drawn in at the beginning, the middle section meanders from one incident to the next without much sense, and the ending is as unengaging as it is tiresomely nonsensical, and also painfully predictable.

3/10

Don't buy the movie here.
Americans can not buy it here.