The Humans, 2021.
Written and Directed by Stephen Karan.
Starring Richard Jenkins, Jayne Houdyshell, Steven Yeun, Beanie Feldstein, Amy Schumer, and June Squibb.
SYNOPSIS:
Set inside a pre-war duplex in downtown Manhattan, The Humans follows the course of an evening in which the Blake family gathers to celebrate Thanksgiving. As darkness falls outside the crumbling building, mysterious things start to go bump in the night and family tensions reach a boiling point.
It’s safe to assume that Thanksgiving is already a horror story of a holiday get-together for most families, what with all the inevitable bickering and someone unable to refrain from bringing up religion or politics. Stephen Karam makes his cinematic debut with The Humans (based on the director’s award-winning stage play), approaching these dynamics and conversations that are usually, both in real life and on-screen, played off as comedic and crazy family members being themselves stirring up drama, here exposing the darkness rummaging around underneath.
Set a short time after 9/11, Erik and Deirdre Blake (a brilliantly nuanced performance from Richard Jenkins as the former, with Jayne Houdyshell also excellent repressing certain feelings and emotions as the latter) bring dementia-stricken matriarch Momo (a wheelchair-bound June Squibb making the most of every inexplicable burst of profanity and breakdowns) along to visit their daughter’s new Chinatown New York-based apartment in an attempt to break it in with celebration. Brigid (Beanie Feldstein, shining in a much darker atmosphere than she is usually in) also happens to be partnered with her one year-strong boyfriend Richard (another impressive subdued turn from Steven Yeun). Also visiting is her sibling Aimee (Amy Schumer appropriating her brand of humor to something much more unsettling, in what turns out to be smart outside the box casting).
The Humans unfolds nearly entirely in real-time, as the family casually chats among themselves while preparing dinner, consuming their delectable dishes, playing an amusing game involving a toy pig that ties into the thankful aspect of Thanksgiving, and parting ways for the evening. On paper, it doesn’t exactly sound thrilling, atmospheric, or cinematic, but together with cinematographer Lol Crawley and composer Nico Muhly, writer and director Stephen Karam have successfully imbued every conversation and the secrets that come to the surface with a sense of eerie dread. Coupled with frequent shots of deteriorating walls and photography that emphasizes the general emptiness of the space surrounding these characters (almost every dialogue exchange is framed from a fly-on-the-wall perspective, either outside the room where characters are conversing or far away from within), the metaphor is evident that the debates, taunting, and arguments this family gets into with one another is rooted in gradually fracturing as a unit.
Without getting into specifics, the parents are traditionally-minded, placing a heavy value on religion, which the children no longer care for. The paranoid Erik doesn’t care much for New York, having resided a stone’s throw way in Pennsylvania, much to the chagrin of Brigid yearning for culture. Naturally, his cause for concern was only elevated by the terrorist attacks, now fearing that the apartment’s location places Brigid in danger. Meanwhile, Aimee tries to hold it together between phone calls that see her working through a rough breakup with maturity. More concerning is her stomach condition that could potentially become cancerous. As for Deirdre, the offspring have grown accustomed to ignoring her texts, pointing to articles carrying religious overtones, mocking the stories in remembrance when she is not around. She’s also trying to watch her weight but having a cheat day for the holiday, although the real reason for doing so turns out to be upsetting.
The Blakes also clash over work, with the younger generation seeking to turn artistic hobbies into livable income yet struggling with depression; Erik seems to view addressing mental health as a weakness, launching into one of the more heated debates of the evening. The longer everyone fights, the more no one seems to acknowledge or care about any of the real sadness going on in the family, with Momo treated more like an elderly pet than a human being. It’s only a matter of time before these differences of opinions and shrinking pave the way for explosive revelations that could change the course of the family forever. Then again, it’s also Thanksgiving, where most families survive the day and go on communicating fine with one another only when necessary. There’s also a thoughtful juxtaposition to be found in the strained relationships between parents and daughter/boyfriend at the center of the narrative.
Spooky thumping and dripping and machinery from the rest of the apartment also add something more sinister to what’s underneath the story. There is assuredly awkward laughter to occasionally be found in The Humans, but every scene is filtered through a horror lens. Admittedly, The Humans takes its time elevating the drama and is sluggishly paced, but the devastatingly shot and emotionally piercing climax end the holiday on a sour note for the Blakes, although a riveting one for viewers.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
Originally published February 26, 2022. Updated February 27, 2022.
