MOVIE REVIEW: Cult of Chucky (2017)

The Child’s Play filmology is, in my opinion, the baseline for most people’s understanding of the “killer-doll” sub genre of the American slasher movie. The infamous murder puppet, Chucky, voiced by Lord of the Rings star Brad Dourif, has become a horror-icon among the ranks of Jason, Leatherface, and Frankenstein. Cult of Chucky (2017) the seventh addition of a franchise 29 years in the making; all centered around a two-foot redheaded children’s toy possessed by the soul of a serial killer with an erudition for cutlery and voodoo magic.

In this installment of writer/director Don Mancini’s evil doll ballad, the plot is a direct continuation of the previous direct-to-video hit, Curse of Chucky (2013). Brad Dourif (Chucky), is joined again by his daughter Fiona Dourif who plays Nina: the paraplegic protagonist of Curse, reprising her role as a Jamie Lee Curtis-type à la Halloween II (1981). Nina’s declared responsible for the murders of the last movie and is shipped off to an insane asylum. These horror sequels really do write themselves, don't they Mancini? In all honesty, though, the asylum setting is fitting for a living doll grindhouse feature. After all, the most terrifying aspect of the original Child’s Play (1988) is in the design of its slasher, Chucky. Something that’s key in successful horror films is the victim’s vulnerability and having characters face a fatal threat that’s so ridiculous nobody would ever believe them about it (like a stabby cabbage patch kid) is a brilliant way to force them to face the monster on their own. This in turn makes it easier for Chucky to murder the cast one-by-one in whichever grizzly creative fashion he sees fit. The One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest setting syncs beautifully with the Child’s Play horror formula where the institution becomes an inescapable fortress with no hope for escape.
The use of psychiatric ward orderlies, doctors, and patients as side characters/victims gives Chucky a whole new set of toys to play with. Actual psychological disorders are introduced and explored that really sets the tone for an experience where everyone’s collective insanity builds into a Rube Goldberg machine of madness, gore, and quick-witted dark humor. The writing for these kinds of films are typically passible but the script for Curse has taken it up a notch with progressive undertones and self-aware meta jokes that makes up for most of the Dourif’s dialogue. At first these two choices may come across as an attempt to modernize the Childs Play cinematic universe but Mancini’s no novice to horror; at one point in the film a Nurse named Carlos (played by Zak Santiago) tries to relates to Nina by mentioning his husband with MS. Little anecdotes like these give Cult an unrequested tone of acceptance, which is pleasant to see in a modern film and makes for the gruesome murders even more heart-wrenching to witness. I actually cannot remember the last time I watched a movie with a body count and genuinely hoped for some character’s survival. Brad Dourif’s excellent as always lending his voice to the plastic dwarf that made him famous in video rental stores all across America; whose delivery of the doll’s profane commentary is hilariously existential: after a gorgeously obsequious murder Chucky looks upon his work and earnestly retorts, “sometimes I scare even myself.” The murder scenes are also spectacular and gruesome, respectably. Fiona Dourif and Adam Hurtig (Multiple Malcolm) were lovely in their rolls and while the rest of the performances were solid; nothing to incredible but the acting you’d expect from these independent splatter features.
Cult of Chucky isn’t without its flaws The cinematography can be a bit uninspired at times and the film’s reliance on jump-scares becomes more obnoxious than the majority of

Chucky’s one-liners. There are also a few too many references to the film’s predecessors. At first it was cute but later felt like it was stroking its own ego. It also doesn’t help that there are poignant plot holes that will nag you if you pay too close attention. I also would have liked to see more of Alex Vincent’s character, Andy, but I feel like they’re saving him for the next sequel because like the psycho plushy itself this franchise will never, ever, die.

All in all, Cult of Chucky’s issues, while far from invisible, are hardly a major problem for the film’s overall experience. It’s an upscale B-movie made straight to DVD and video streaming services; just the kind of flick to put on for a drunken Halloween party with some buddies. The humor and deaths should keep the horror junkies happy and the pronoun respect the film has for its own continuity will win over any fans of the franchise already. There’s enough new material to give this installment a unique look and feel from the last features. I won’t spoil anything but be assured that the third act is bonkers in all the right ways and has a twist straight out of Lovecraft’s The Thing on the Doorstep. If you’re looking for a modern midnight monster movie that bares its demented teeth and makes you smile along with it then check out Cult of Chucky on home video or Netflix.