The thing about home movies is that nobody wants to watch them. I don’t even want to watch my own recordings. I make them so that someone in the far future will get a headache trying to find meaning in the meaninglessness of them.
Home Movie is a found footage film. I’m not one of those wankers who goes on and on about it being a dead form of horror. Bad writing, stale stories and bad movie-making make bad movies.
This one wasn’t even the worst of a bad lot. It’s no great shakes, don’t get me wrong.
One of the problems with something purporting to be home movies is that, if done well, it must by nature be unwatchable. If the actors are good enough to portray non-actors poorly mugging for a camera, it emulates a home movie pretty well. Those very same home movies we can’t be arsed to watch.
Adding in some asshole children doesn’t really mitigate.
Children don’t scare me. I spend a lot of time horsing around with children. What I know about them is that they are weak, frail, they cry a lot and they really don’t know that much.
In the end, it’s a tale told without ambition and with little fuss.
The couple’s relationship is mildly engaging. We see their frustrations, their history and their resolution.
And just in time, because we know how it will end from the beginning of the film. It might be a depressing story informing us that neither faith nor science will save us in the end or it might be about the impact of watching too much staticky television. Or the ills of the parents falling heavily upon the children and then rebounding right back in the parents’ faces with the force of a child’s enthusiasm for swinging a baseball bat. Whatever it was, it was. We knew it would be.
The Man in the Closet, who you might miss mention of if you were getting coffee, could be anything you want it to be. Other than an actual man in the closet, of course. That would have been a hoot. I was rooting for the ice cream man, who, having become an economic victim to healthy eating and warehouse grocery stores, is now homeless and lives in various children’s closets. Plying them pied-piper like with Mickey Mouse bars and bomb pops.
To the film’s credit, the parents knew the inevitability of it all too, even if they didn’t completely understand why and didn’t want to admit it.
Other points in favor: the couple is handsome on-screen, camera twitch was at a minimum for this type of film, there was no horrifyingly awful musical score, we aren’t really left wondering at the end (though, I suppose interpretations may vary, mine is correct, as you might expect).
The parents got what they deserved. As nice as they seemed, they didn’t help those hellions and they did the dog no favors by keeping it around even after the cat got it.
When the credits roll, it’s a relief.
Would I recommend? That depends. Most people will find nothing of value here. As a genre devotee, I enjoyed it for what it was. You have to go in without high expectations. I’ve seen far, far worse.
The lack of spookiness will probably rub a lot of horror fans the wrong way. The gore is minimized. It’s not original. The family’s last name is Poe, which I found lame and slightly annoying.
Man, the negatives really pile up when you think about it. Maybe I should have the movie committed. Like those parents should have done with their demon brats.
Ah, hindsight, always late to the party and carting in a box of wine like you’re our savior.