The Eggers brothers, Max and Sam, make their feature-length debut with The Front Room, a horror-comedy that straddles the line between unsettling tension and absurd humor. Adapted from a short story by Susan Hill, the film offers a premise rife with psychological and familial anxieties. Unfortunately, despite moments of promise, The Front Room falters, primarily due to its inability to fully commit to either horror or comedy, leaving the audience in a tonal limbo.
The story follows Belinda (Brandy Norwood), an adjunct professor, and her husband Norman (Andrew Burnap), a public defender, both struggling financially as they prepare for the birth of their first child. Their predicament worsens when Norman’s estranged stepmother, Solange (Kathryn Hunter), unexpectedly contacts them. Offering the potential of financial salvation through her will, Solange requests to move in with them. What begins as a seemingly benevolent offer quickly descends into chaos as Solange’s sinister influence permeates their home.
The early moments of The Front Room hold promise. Solange, a deeply religious and eerie figure, injects tension into the couple’s life, especially as strange occurrences—flickering lights and eerie voices—signal something is amiss. Cinematographer Ava Berkofsky effectively captures the creeping dread as the camera lurks through the corridors of the couple’s suburban home, heightening the sense of claustrophobia as Solange’s presence grows more ominous. The visual atmosphere helps build suspense, but the film’s effectiveness in delivering genuine scares ultimately falls flat. Hunter's performance as Solange is the film's standout feature, blending sinister charm with grotesque physicality. She embodies the ultimate nightmare mother-in-law, gradually infiltrating every aspect of the couple’s lives, from their baby’s nursery to their private doubts and insecurities. Her Southern drawl and religious zealotry turn mundane interactions into moments of pure discomfort, and her ability to blur the line between horror and dark comedy is both impressive and unnerving. Her performance is so dominating that it overshadows nearly everything else in the movie, often making it feel like The Front Room is less about Belinda and Norman's descent into chaos and more about showcasing Hunter’s deranged antics.
This heavy reliance on Hunter’s performance reveals one of the film’s primary weaknesses. While Solange is fully realized, the other characters, particularly Belinda and Norman, are underdeveloped. Brandy imbues Belinda with relatable frustration and resilience, but her character lacks depth, often overshadowed by the outlandish antics of Solange. Norman, on the other hand, is little more than a passive bystander, contributing minimally to the narrative’s progression. This imbalance undermines the film’s emotional stakes and leaves the audience detached from the protagonists’ plight.
Despite Hunter’s undeniable magnetism, The Front Room falters in several key areas. The narrative lacks cohesion, with various themes such as motherhood, race, religion, and family dynamics vying for attention but never fully explored. Belinda, played capably by Norwood, is often left in the background, her character underdeveloped and reactionary to Solange's overwhelming presence. The film’s depiction of race, in particular, feels heavy-handed but shallow, introducing the topic through Solange's microaggressions and racist behavior but never digging deep enough to make it a central theme or provide meaningful commentary.
In the end, The Front Room is a film of missed opportunities. Hunter’s performance is unforgettable, but the film itself struggles to find its footing. Its blend of comedy, horror, and family drama feels disjointed, and while it offers a few entertaining moments, it ultimately lacks the depth or scares to leave a lasting impact. Fans of Hunter’s theatrical style may find much to enjoy, but for those seeking a truly frightening or thought-provoking horror experience, The Front Room may fall short of expectations.
2.5/5
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