THE LODGE

A number of moments in 'The Lodge', while already pushing the boundaries of logic, are thankfully void of the cheap jump scares one would expect from a movie that has no idea what it's doing; ironically enough, a jump scare or two might have actually helped save this film. Without any big moments or interesting cinematography, there's nowhere for the massive holes in logic to hide, and any moments that are used to develop a "creepy" atmosphere are laughable. Keyboard warriors will be quick to point out that 'The Lodge' was written before 'Hereditary', a film to which comparisons cannot help but be drawn, but the former actually shot nearly a year later, and the derivative creative decisions are hard to ignore. Mia's dollhouse, which mirrors the layout of their lodge, should be a golden opportunity to send chills down the audience's spines, much like the one Toni Colette works on in 'Hereditary'; instead, it's another moment to lean over to your friend and ask what the fuck is going on (who, who thought it would be a good idea for Mia to obsessively cling to a doll that just so happens to have the exact same clothes as her mother, right down to her old red beanie?). 'The Lodge' has no idea how to make typically creepy elements in horror creepy, deploying such favourites as an off-tune musical Christmas toy, a dog barking at nothing, and slowly singing religious hymns with a zero per cent hit rate.

To dissect the fundamental thematic issues of 'The Lodge' is to discuss major plot spoilers, so I will try my best to work around these if, for some astounding reason, this review isn't enough to dissuade you from watching this film. The way in which 'The Lodge' handles its heavy topics of mental health, PTSD, suicide and trauma by weaponising them and using them for shock value is insulting. This tone is set quite early on with a moment of incredible, jarring violence (consider this a trigger warning for those sensitive to depictions of suicide). Franz and Fiala have bitten off far more than they can chew, resulting in contrived plot beats that scream of an inability to handle these topics in a way that is both respectful yet scary. I'm not at all saying that mental illness shouldn't and can't be used to scare an audience, but it is drawn in such broad, black and white strokes in 'The Lodge' that it is reductive and, in the end, damaging. Ultimately, it has nothing interesting to say about any of these topics, instead using them to unsuccessfully shock audiences without earning any audience investment.

My thorough lampooning may imply that there are no redeeming qualities about 'The Lodge', but luckily there is one - only one. Lead star Riley Keough is often the best part of any project she is attached to, and this is most certainly the case for 'The Lodge'. Keough commits to a physically and psychologically demanding role that she excels in, selling some of the more intense moments with painful screams and frantic facial expressions, but even this can't elevate the hilariously bad performances from her co-stars. 'The Lodge' is essentially a three-hander between Keough, Martell and McHugh, and I cannot remember a film this unbalanced by its lead performances. Martell and McHugh have obviously been guided to exaggerate bratty behaviour in their performances, and this is inexplicably translated into hushed line delivery from Martell and pathetic wails from McHugh. As a result, it feels like the three actors are in three different movies, a mishmash which ultimately just does not work and does nothing to keep audiences sympathetic towards Aiden and Mia, upon which the success of the film's twist vitally hinges.

'The Lodge' wants so badly to be considered a highbrow horror film, but it forgets completely to try and be compelling, riding on flimsy attempts at a creepy tone and calling it a day.