Early in James DeMonaco’s The Home, the deeply troubled Max (Pete Davidson) arrives at the retirement home where he’s been assigned to work as a janitor for community service hours, and it’s instantly clear that something is really off about the place. Max first eyes a creepy-looking old person staring out of a window on the top floor before walking inside the home and hearing 1930s big band music playing slightly out of tune on a Victrola and, then, peeping into a room to find an elderly woman in a porcelain doll mask having sex.
It’s all meant to be ominous, but there’s a randomness to these supposedly unsettling sights and sounds that we glimpse throughout the film—a hodgepodge of jump scares and disturbing imagery in search of a cohesive story. DeMonaco and Adam Cantor’s script is full of twists and turns that seem to only lead to dead ends, as if the filmmakers are content to toy with us until a final reveal provides us with the context needed to understand what’s actually going on.
When Max sneaks up to the home’s off-limits fourth floor, we see a group of older patients bleeding from their eyes and picking out their fingernails. One patient he befriends, Norma (Mary Beth Peil), warns him that “something’s wrong with this place,” while a mysterious young woman (Marilee Talkington) randomly shows up to give him video surveillance equipment so that he can help her “help them.” As this is a film seemingly hell-bent on stringing viewers along, your guess as to who she wants to help is as good as the next person’s.
As for Max, we never quite know what’s going on with him either, aside from the fact that his problems can be traced back to growing up in foster care and his older brother’s (Matthew Miniero) suicide. At the home, he has a tendency to do the opposite of what he’s told by those who could send him to prison with a snap of their fingers. This would make some sense were Max driven by a rebellious streak or a disdain for authority, but it appears like he simply wanders around the building more out of sheer boredom. And Max’s muddy characterization is only further hampered by Davidson’s near-deadpan performance, with the actor’s facial expressions ranging from slightly bewildered to slightly afraid to slightly perturbed.
As The Home trudges along until its inevitable rug-pull, its obnoxiously loud and incessant score tries to convince us of the sinisterness at play at the retirement home. And by the time the rubber finally hits the road well into the third act, the twist is aggravating not only because it’s so patently absurd, but because so little in the previous hour feels remotely connected to what occurs in the homestretch. All of the horrific imagery and supposed clues that came before are revealed to be signposts signifying nothing. Even the outbursts of violence in the climax do nothing but remind us just how empty and cynical the whole charade has been.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
