Review of Into the Dark: Episodes 7-12

Since I already said my piece about Blumhouse Productions, the driving force behind this ambitious year-long project, and Hulu’s odd lack of promotion in my first post, I think we can jump right into the reviews of Into the Dark, episodes 7-12.

Oh, I do want to give a shout-out to whoever made the posters for this series. The images are all gorgeous and engaging, and I love them! (I looked for a name, or names, but came up with bupkis.)

The following reviews are organic and spoiler free.

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Episode 7: I’m Just F*cking With You (April/April Fools’ Day)
Written by Gregg Zehentner and Scott Barkan
Directed by Adam Mason

This story centers around Larry Adams (Keir O’Donnell), a petty, vindictive little troll — an Internet troll, to be specific — who has been harassing his ex-girlfriend online and is now going to her wedding. The night before, he ends up at a small, kitschy place called the Pink Motel. There he encounters Chester (Hayes MacArthur), the front desk clerk and “prankster” who likes to punctuate his unfunny gags with the line, “I’m just fucking with you.” (So, it’s not just a clever name.)

I…did not care for this episode. While there is some satisfaction in seeing a troll become the trolled one, the filmmakers seemed to be shooting for a David Lynch vibe, but they fall quite a bit short. The writing is clunky, the camerawork is more distracting than anything else, and the setting steals most of the scenes. Also, most of the characters act the way you would expect them to in a horror film, blithely stumbling into their fates with the mindlessness of wind-up toys.

The two main characters are the only memorable characters. That said, like Mulroney back in the Thanksgiving episode Flesh & Bone, MacArthur makes the most of his role, gnawing on the scenery for all he’s worth, so much so that his performance, which starts out as appropriately off-kilter and unsettling, tips over the edge into full-on comical. On the other hand, O’Donnell brings a lot of layers to Internet troll Larry. He portrays the character with subtly and nuance, so much so that you almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

At the end of the day, the one thing I’m Just F*cking With You gets right is its repeated reminders that Larry is pathetic piece of crap and, regardless of how his ex may have treated him, his online abuse is so, so much worse. That said, during the opening and closing credits, we’re shown highly unnecessary screenshots of Larry’s attacks. He scribbles on pictures of his ex, posts private pics for everyone to see, comments on all of her online posts with every sort of sexist invective you can think of — he’s truly a one-man doxxing machine. Here’s the thing: in this day and age, just about everyone knows what online abuse looks like, so forcing the viewer to witness these attacks feels like an assault in and of itself. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so triggering for male viewers — the impact of these images obviously didn’t occur to the male director and/or writers — but it certainly was for this female reviewer.

Overall: 2 out of 10

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Episode 8: All That We Destroy (May/Mother’s Day)
Written by: Sean Keller and Jim Agnew
Directed by: Chelsea Stardust (who gets bonus points for her awesome name)

All That We Destroy is a science fiction story set in a very near future. In it, Dr. Victoria Harris (Samantha Mathis) — general practitioner, brilliant geneticist, and company owner — recognizes early on in her son’s life nascent indicators of psychopathy: selfishness, sneakiness, unresponsive to punishment, lack of guilt or remorse, etc. So, she does what any mother (for whom money is no object) would do. She buys a house out in the middle of nowhere, restricts Spencer (Israel Broussard) to the house and their surrounding property, and clones a young woman that he can kill over and over again to appease his murderous urges.

Okay, so maybe that’s not the choice that every mom would make, but there are times when a parent’s love can reach unfathomable depths, which renders Dr. Harris’s choices appalling yet believable. Especially since she shows some of her own sociopathic tendencies. She obviously has a grandiose sense of self, and she states more than once that she doesn’t consider the clones actual people.

To be fair, the Ashleys do start out as blank slates, but when Spencer complains that his repeated murders don’t live up to that first one, Harris endeavors to teach the Ashleys more about the original Ashley, the brilliantly named Ashley Prime (Aurora Perrineau). This might seem pointless and grotesque in the extreme — and, really, it is — but it’s not without purpose. Harris’s goal is to create a sort of mental methadone. In other words, she’s trying to create a way to transition Spencer back into society. Her hypothesis is that if she can find a “harmless” way for her son to exorcise his urges, then he can go out into the world a free man. And, if/when the urges return, he can simply go home and get another fix before returning to his normal life.

Of course, this plan has holes in it the size of the Grand Canyon, and, as expected, it eventually falls to pieces. The ways in which it falls to pieces are fairly predictable, but this narrative is more about the journey than the destination, and it is one hell of an interesting ride.

This episode fascinated the bejesus out of me. For years, I strongly considered studying psychology and entering the FBI with the hopes of becoming a criminal profiler. To this day, I remain a bit obsessed with aberrant behaviors of all types, as well as the idea of whether or not it’s possible to “cure” individuals with the most destructive types of mental disorders. (This is something that Dexter touched on briefly, right before it jumped the shark. There’s a moment when Dexter questions his adoptive father’s decision to feed his dark urges rather than trying to divert them or subvert them all together.) I share this little tidbit about me just to let you know that this story hits a particular button for me and YMMV. Regardless, though, even if you don’t share my fascination, this is a solid story, well-crafted and well-told, and well worth a watch.

Overall: 7 out of 10

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Episode 9: They Come Knocking (June/Father’s Day)
Written by Shane Van Dyke and Casey Van Dyke (grandsons of Dick Van Dyke, in case you were wondering)
Directed by Adam Mason (the only person to direct two episodes in this series)

In the wake of Val Singer’s death, her widower Nathan (Clayne Crawford) and their two daughters, teenage Clair (Josephine Langford) and preteen Maggie (Lia McHugh), take a road trip out into the desert. They find an out-of-the-way spot to set up their camper. The place bears no significance other than the good memories it holds for Nathan, memories connected to his wife.

Clair is angry with her dad, calling him Nathan throughout, for withdrawing care from Val (Robyn Lively), who was dying of cancer. Maggie, on the other hand, has a great relationship with him, one that may or may not have grown stronger since Val’s passing. (We’re given only the barest glimpses into the Singers’ lives BC, Before Cancer.) At any rate, things start going pear-shaped prior to their arrival at their campsite, with Clair noticing all of the missing children flyers behind the register at a gas station/diner and even having a vision of a hooded, creepy-ass kid dressed all in black. Once they get set up at their destination and retire into the camper for the night, the fun really starts — first comes a knock-knock-knocking at their camper’s door, followed by the sight of more creepy-ass kids surrounding them and begging in plaintive voices to be let in. When they’re refused entry, the kids/unsettled spirits really crank things up to eleven; they shake the whole trailer and connive to separate Nathan, Clair, and Maggie. Add a dash of isolation (their truck is damaged, their walkie-talkies stop working, Maggie wanders out into the desert, forcing Clair to follow), a cup of freaky hallucinations, pour in a dump with rusted out shipping containers and broken doll shrines, and stir.

If that recipe seems formulaic, that’s because it is. Aside from a few good jump scares early on and some grotesque imagery, the story is standard. About halfway through, the filmmakers start undercutting all of the tension they establish earlier on, and the ending is muddled as all get-out. The writers reach too far for their metaphors and struggle to make meaning of their symbolism. They try diving down into the complexity of love and euthanasia, but they’re out of their depth, and the result is…well, meh.

Overall: 5 out of 10

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Episode 10: Culture Shock (July/Independence Day)
Written by James Benson, Efren Hernandez, and Gigi Saul Guerrero
Directed by Gigi Saul Guerrero

Yes! After They Come Knocking, I actually wrote in my notes that these episodes, while chock-full of complex female characters — very few damsels in distress here — they’re thin on racial diversity. But, Culture Shock is a great example of Blumhouse Production doing what it does best, taking classic horror tropes and turning them on their head by confronting difficult issues while telling a scary story that is all the more unsettling for how closely it cuts to the bone.

The major topic in Culture Shock is immigration, always a hot-button issue and one that’s become even more contentious in recent years. At any rate, this story follows Marisol Ramirez (Martha Higareda), a pregnant woman determined to cross the Mexican-American border to reunite with her boyfriend, who made it across in an earlier trip during which Marisol was left behind. The trip, as you can imagine, is awful. Aside from the harsh living conditions, the coyotes keep demanding more money and one even attempts to rape Marisol. And when they finally reach the border, all hell breaks loose, with a group of seemingly Latinx men (their faces are hidden, but they speak only in Spanish) in giant trucks mounted with Klieg lights corrals the wannabe immigrants right into the waiting jaws of the US Border Patrol. Marisol then wakes up in a pastel-colored, Stepfordian nightmare, in which she’s already given birth and somehow speaks perfect English.

I don’t want to say any more than that because I promised a spoiler-free review, but I do want to give a shout-out to Shawn Ashmore, who plays Thomas — the mayor of the too-perfect town of Cape Joy. I always enjoy the Ashmore twins, even if I can’t tell them apart for love or money.

But the true standouts are Higareda and Guerrero. Higareda plays Marisol with depth, compassion, and an indomitable strength. You may have seen her in Netflix’s Altered Carbon or USA’s Queen of the South. She’s an excellent actress, and I’m definitely going to be hunting down more of her work. (Also, am I the only one that thinks that at certain angles she’s a dead ringer for Sandra Bullock?)

Behind the camera, Guerrero directs with an effective aggressiveness. She seems to have a good instinct for when to go full-bore and when to hold back, portraying subtle moments and bombastic violence with equal skill. Plus, she’s been quoted as saying her first horror movie was a stolen VHS of Child’s Play. Watching Child’s Play through my fingers at a sleepover is one of my first experiences with the genre, which, in my mind, makes us horror soul sisters. Needless to say, I look forward to seeing more from her, too.

Side note: If you’re looking for a story from the other side of the border, about women who have entered the US, been living here illegally (and, in some cases, legally), and are now in the ICE system, make sure you check out the excellent final season of Orange Is the New Black.

Overall: 10 out of 10

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Episode 11: School Spirit (August/First Day of School)
Written by Patrick Casey, Mike Gan, and Josh Miller
Directed by Mike Gan

The night before the first day of school, two boys (one a graduated student, the other an incoming senior) break into Helbrook High School to plant a camera in the girls’ locker room. Classic schoolboy hijinks, right? Not really. As the graduate points out to the senior, he thinks the whole camera thing makes him a total creeper. But, as the creeper’s willing accomplice, both boys find themselves in the crosshairs of the School Spirit, an urban legend come to life, and I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that neither of them survive the encounter. Bonus points to the filmmakers for killing the white guy before the black guy, too.

Fast forward to the Saturday after the first week of school, where we find über-perfect senior class president Erica (Annie Q., no relation to Maggie Q.) on her way to Saturday detention. There, she finds herself part of a diverse group of malcontents and at the mercy of an overzealous school administrator, Vice Principal Armstrong (Hugo Armstrong). Sound familiar?

Anyway, after confiscating the students’ phones, VP Armstrong demands that they use their detention time to clean the school. There is, of course, pushback here, but Armstrong is insistent and eventually leaves them to it. This is, of course, the perfect time for a recitation of the School Spirit legend. According to the tale, a teacher was pranked, the prank caused a fatal heart attack, and so the students responsible for her death hid her body in the school’s cellar. Now, her spirit roams the halls, punishing “bad” students. Also, Helbrook High’s mascot is the Admiral, and that’s how she supposedly appears.

What follows is a pretty classic high school horror story. A few students get high, people separate and start disappearing. Eventually, they’re locked into the school, they discover a body or two, and soon enough, they’re in a fight for their lives.

School Spirit is both a throwback to the films of John Hughes’s heyday and a subversion of the sexist and racist tropes from that era. It’s fun and funny at times to identify the comparisons — for example, Lizzy (Jessi Case), with her alcoholic mom, wearing her flannel and shit-kicker boots is obviously a nod to John Bender, Judd Nelson’s character in The Breakfast Club. On the other hand, Erica is of Asian descent, but she’s definitely no Long Duk Dong, the cringe-worthy character played by Gedde Watanabe in Sixteen Candles. Gan and company certainly don’t reinvent the wheel, nor do they tackle any hard issues, but they do take a lot of tired and/or offensive tropes and turn them on their heads, which results in an entertaining, guilt-free horror romp.

Overall: 7 out of 10

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Episode 12: Pure (September/Daughter’s Day)
Story by Paul Fischer and Paul Davis
Teleplay by Hannah Macpherson
Directed by Hannah Macpherson

Okay, ladies and jellyspoons, hold on to your seats. Into the Dark most definitely saved the best for last, and I’m going to have to do my best not to gush here. Which is going to be difficult because, IMHO, this episode is pretty damn near perfect.

Pure is everything I’ve wanted out of this series. It’s scary and smart, well written, acted, and directed. Not only that, but the whole thing is a scathing indictment of the whole misogynistic, hypocritical purity movement in Christianity.

A quick note: I am not criticizing Christianity in this review; nor am I denigrating in any way the young women who have chosen to retain their virginity for whatever reason. Neither is this final chapter in the anthology. However, it is, and I am, taking to task the regressive practice of purity balls, purity rings, etc. — a series of rituals meant to frighten girls and women and to encourage them to abdicate control over their own bodies. To paraphrase a line from Pure, a girl’s sexuality is not a matter for her and her dad; it’s between her and God.

Back to the show itself. It’s about a father/daughter weekend at a religious glamp, aka a glam camp with well-maintained cabins, electric lights, indoor plumbing, etc., all in the midst of isolated, idyllic nature. Kyle (Jim Klock) brings his two daughters, Jo (McKaley Miller) and Shay (Jahkara Smith), to this Purity Retreat. Fellow horror fans, you might recognize Shay from the AMC adaptation of Joe Hill’s book N0S4A2. Anyway, Jo, being the daughter that grew up with him, has been coming to these retreats for years. Shay, however, is his illegitimate, biracial daughter who’s just about the same age as Jo, and this is her first time. For those keeping track, yes, Kyle was cheating on his wife while she was home with a newborn. You can already taste the hypocrisy!

Jo is portrayed as the “bad seed.” She dyes her hair, wears black underwear (although the dress code is, for the girls only, all white 24/7) and dark lipstick. She also sneaks out at night, encourages/peer pressures others into doing so, meets up with boys, and vapes. Oh, yeah. She also performs dark rituals, specifically a ritual to bring back Lilith.

If you’re not familiar with Lilith, don’t bother looking for her in the Bible. Not in the Christian version, anyway. She’s a character, a construction (most likely of man) that grew very popular in Medieval Europe, so much so that she features heavily in paintings and sculptures from the Renaissance. She’s depicted in the Sistine Chapel and was carved in stone on Notre Dame Cathedral. Regardless, as the story goes, Lilith was Adam’s first wife — made equal from the exact same clay as Adam. But then she got it on with an angel, and God cast her out of the Garden of Eden, down to Hell with the rest of the demons. Not wanting to make the mistake twice, God then created Eve from one of Adam’s ribs. Of course, she screwed up, too, but it wasn’t entirely her fault because of that whole “snake tempting her” deal. Snakes being the most phallic of all God’s creatures, right?

Except for…um, well, worms. Ahem. Moving on.

Pastor Seth is played fantastically by Scott Porter, who, in my heart, will be QB1 4-evah. In Pure, though, it’s more like “Black eyes, empty heart, can lose!” Hey-o! As I was saying, Pastor Seth likes to start his purity weekends by talking about the demon Lilith, by holding her story up as a cautionary tale for the girls in the congregation. He’s pretty obsessed with her, really. When he created the camp, he had a huge stained-glass triptych made depicting her creation, her sin, and her fall, and it’s front of those images that he most likes to give his sermons, where he likes to hold his own daughter up as a paragon of purity and to compare non-virgin girls to chewed up gum/trash.

Early on, Jo mentions her love of Pastor Seth’s Lilith speech, and the evening after he gives it is when she encourages the other girls in her cabin — Shay, Kellyann (Annalisa Cochrane), and Seth’s daughter Lacey (Ciara Bravo) — to sneak out. On their way to a dilapidated cabin, Jo explains that one year a book about Lilith just appeared in their cabin, Cabin 4, and she read it cover to cover. In it, it discusses the truth of Lilith, that she was framed by Adam, who wasn’t a fan of their equality, and discusses a time when she will rise again.

The young ladies of Cabin 4 have been performing the same basic ritual for years now, but, like in The Craft, the addition of Shay — a fourth member who explains to the other girls the need for all the elements to be represented; they’ve been missing air — is the missing ingredient. When the girls perform the ritual this time, blown-out candles relight, and Shay starts to become a feather magnet, finding them all over the camp.

This episode not only has a female writer/director and a biracial heroine, but it goes above and beyond, asking all the right questions about the men and their daughters and demanding answers for hypocritical practices, like the exclusion of young men from these Purity Rituals and how the church turns a blind eye to the sins of their fathers.

Really, I could go on an on about all the things that Pure gets right. I do have a quibble with the climax and whether or not things go too far, but this is a minor issue and one that I’ve yet to resolve for myself. Regardless, this episode is just about as close to pitch-perfect as I could hope for, and it’s got me very excited for season 2 of Into the Dark, which is supposed to begin airing next month.

Overall: 11 out of 10 (In this case, the amp goes all the way up to 11.)

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A final plea to Jason Blum, the originator of Blumhouse Productions. While I appreciate the gender and racial diversity present in your stories, in front of and behind the camera, I would like to see more characters from different creeds and any characters from the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Basically, you’ve been injecting a lot of much needed energy and diversity into the horror genre, but just keep pushing the envelope, Blum. #representationmatters