Imagine Google Nest, Alexa, Uber, and the entire pile of products and apps that have upgraded our lives, only it’s all combined under one company. Gone is the whole possession premise, and in its place is a hi-tech interconnected smart life run from your very own “Buddi” doll. Remember how in Toy Story, all the toys thought Woody tried to murder Buzz Lightyear in a fit of jealousy? Imagine if that’s actually how the movie played out, and Woody went after his boy Andy’s whole family too. Turns out, there’s a big different between a killer doll that’s always been evil, and one that learns to be evil… through his own twisted love. Because while is isn’t quite the stab-happy chucklefest you might be used to (though it gets there in the end), all that sympathy does serve a purpose: it ratchets up the tension, and the dread. But if you’re open to a Chucky that delivers his violence with a heap of pathos, then give this version a shot. If you prefer your murder dolls uncomplicated, this ain’t the ride for you. Like, kinda wanted to cry I felt so bad for him at times.Īnd that, I suspect, will be the barrier for entry a lot of you face. And more than that, I liked this new Chucky. Oh sure, it trades one nonsense premise for another that it imperfectly explores, and it features some dynamite actors who could have been given more to work with, and it mashes in healthy dollops of both Terminator and Stranger Things to weird effect. Which is why I walked into theater last night more receptive to the reboot than I’d been when I first saw the trailer. And that was OK! It was fun, and cocaine is a helluva drug, and I love the ’80s-ishness of it all! But by the time the credits rolled, I realized that while the franchise is still something special for all that it represented in my life - well, I certainly couldn’t begrudge it getting a new coat of paint. It had the depth and logic of a Saturday morning cartoon, but with the blood and language of a Midnight movie. Brad Dourif as Chucky was electrifying, but there was no emotional nuance to the character - there was nothing but anger and insanity. I’d forgotten just how basic his origins were, that doll infused with the spirit of a dead psychopath, hell-bent on claiming the only body he’s compatible with: that of the sweet, innocent six-year-old boy who loved him. The franchise took a turn, as it became more of a satire focusing on the character of Chucky - his Seed, his Bride, his Curse, his Whatever. I decided to rewatch it, in preparation for the reboot starring Aubrey Plaza and Mark Hamill, and… well, I’d forgotten just how dumb it is. But even as much as I grew more and more enamored with the slasher flicks of the 70s and 80s, it was one films that I never really revisited - until this week. The point is, there was something about the original Child’s Play that was always lightning in a bottle for me. As an almost teenager, it was perfect - bloody enough to make me feel mature, yet lampooning those objects of kid-hood I too could verify were subversively terrifying. Fast-forward to sometime in the mid-nineties, when I finally started renting the Chucky movies to satisfy years of nagging curiosity, and I fell in love. In daycare, my friend had a “My Buddy” doll that I always looked at with suspicion, expecting it to rise up at any moment and do… well, something unspeakable. I didn’t watch when it came out - after all, I was basically the same age as the young protagonist of the film, Alex Barclay, and certainly wasn’t up for watching a serial killing doll - but the knowledge that there was such a movie, and such a doll, still permeated my childish awareness. The original movie from 1988 was perfectly timed to trigger the fascination of my generation. Few franchises walk the beloved-yet-cheesy line better than Child’s Play.
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