The Book of Henry (2017)
Director: Colin Trevorrow
Watched: May 28, 2018
Rating: 3/10
[Clue: Before things went really south, Henry gives us his best insight, when his mother asks him what is worse than violence; the worst thing in the world]
At least we were warned. Large part of general viewers liked it, but the critical reception, almost unanimously not good. Wanted to be the minority, failed. Unfortunate, for its potential to be much more.
Possible reparatory factors? There were a few. Opening credit animated sketches of Henry’s Rube Goldberg machine could be best part. Upstate New York cinematography gorgeous. Awesome whimsical steampunk treehouse. Child actors and actress were impressive; adults, not so much. Regrettably, these pros fly off the see-saw as soon as the cons present themselves. Problems were many, but let me try for brevity.
An absurd plot, with more holes than swiss cheese. [Child genius, waitress single mother, younger brother. Next door neighbor crush, being molested by police commissioner father. Henry randomly dies from a brain tumor. Before departing, though, he leaves his mother a red notebook containing complex instructions on how to murder said abusive father. Somewhere in all this, mother’s friend kisses Henry on the lips as he lays dying and Henry’s doctor starts making “house calls” to “check on” his family after he dies. Brother tells mother that they have to follow the murder instructions, as it was Henry’s dying wish. She agrees. Luckily, she comes to her senses- at the last second, of course. Meanwhile, the school principal comes to her senses to report the abuse after watching the girl’s interpretive ballet performance, though she has seen bruises on her before. Police commissioner father commits suicide. Abused girl magically rescued, adopted by Henry’s now adult mother.] Need I say more?
The way Henry talks to adults, especially his mother and his doctor. Condescending, patronizing. He manages his mother’s finances, tells her what to do (like not swear in front of his little brother). Talks back to the doctor (“Come on, man… it has to be [insert highly technical medical terminology”) with an inpatient, know it all tone. Even if he does, being supercilious is uncalled for. And the worst part is how they all let him get away with it.
Highly erratic mood, tone, look, score, even genre. A film having an identity crisis. A drama, now a comedy, now a horror. Suspense music when all you want to do is laugh. A children’s talent show montaged with contrasting shots of a mother trying to murder someone, as plotted by her dead son, who talks into her ear from a tape recorder. Thus, swinging from funny and festive to pulsing suspense and shrill horror soundtracks.
Yes, this is something you have to see to believe. Somehow, though, parts of it work. When treated as a dark comedy. Repackage it as such, Kimmel Entertainment, and you might have a winner.