First, let’s get you in the proper frame of mind.

Now, I have a few questions:

• Are you Gen X?
• Were you white trash?
• Do you still appreciate seventies rock anthems?
• Was there a chance your mother was impregnated at Willie’s Fourth of July Picnic?
• Do you remember when Steve King scared the hell out of us with words instead of images?
• Do you possess the ability to have mad monkey sex with the person you love while burning Mexican grocery story religious candles?
• If ‘no’, then what are you even doing here? Are you a spy? Are you the enemy? Who do you answer to? What’s your name? Don’t run from me! Bang, bang, bang; dammit they got away! Call security and release the hounds!

Black Phone

According to the folks at Wikipedia:

The Black Phone is a 2021 American supernatural horror film^[3] directed by Scott Derrickson from a screenplay he wrote with C. Robert Cargill, based on the 2004 short story by Joe Hill. It is the first installment in the Black Phone franchise. It stars Mason Thames as Finney, a teenage boy abducted by a serial child killer known colloquially as the Grabber (Ethan Hawke). When Finney encounters a mystical black rotary phone in captivity, he uses it to plot his escape by communicating with the ghosts of the Grabber’s slain victims. Madeleine McGraw, Jeremy Davies, and James Ransone also feature in the principal cast. Derrickson and Cargill produced The Black Phone in association with Blumhouse Productions CEO Jason Blum. Universal Pictures oversaw the film’s commercial distribution, and funding was sourced through a pact with Blumhouse and tax subsidies from the North Carolina state government.

The idea of The Black Phone arose from Derrickson and Cargill’s adaptation of the eponymous short story by Hill, found in 20th Century Ghosts. Derrickson struggled to produce additional ideas that supplemented the short story, shifting his attention to other filmmaking endeavors. The film remained dormant until he resigned from Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022) over creative differences. Derrickson used his childhood experiences in suburban Denver, Colorado, to develop The Black Phone story. Principal photography began in February 2021 on a $16–18 million budget, and wrapped the following month. Shooting took place on sets and on location in Wilmington, North Carolina. Mark Korven composed the film’s score, which drew on modern and vintage synthesizer sounds.

The Black Phone premiered at Fantastic Fest on September 25, 2021, and opened in US theaters after several delays on June 24, 2022. It was a box office success, grossing $161.4 million globally. The film received positive reviews from critics, who praised its performances but were divided on its concept. The success of The Black Phone spawned the titular franchise, which includes a canonical short film titled “Dreamkill” as part of the anthology film V/H/S/85 (2023), and a sequel titled Black Phone 2 (2025).

Me. The Rev-iew. The Deep Dive. The Whatevs. The meat & veg. The reason you’re here:

I watched this film during the pandemic, because the horror author clique I was stuck inside wouldn’t shut the f*ck up about it. Some of them took pride in being the first to ruin an upcoming project; like they were being graded in the sacred art of sycophant treachery. I think that’s the second time I’ve used the word sycophant in a sentence today; probably because more people are converting via the act of sycophantism. My god; they’re everywhere.

I thought it was a mediocre bullsh*t film unworthy of my personal interpretation, because some literary twat, too self-centered to pick apart the underlying tone of the film, insisted it was too simplistic to be enjoyable. Of course, I believed it. We all did. That’s what we did; We believed things. Silly believers.

As I’ve removed myself from the social media horror hivemind, I’ve began going back to appreciate some films from that era I brushed aside for one reason or another. Black Phone 2 unexpectedly rocked my goddamn socks off on a whim, so I got in the proper fourth of July frame of mind to enjoy this newfangled period piece.

Truth be known, I’ve never read the original story. My former agent told me Joe Hill signed with him early on, and I don’t even want to know whether or not it was true. It’s a come-up to say you were once with Joe Hill’s agent, and the man didn’t make a habit of lying to me. I’ll continue to believe it in his honor. He passed away unexpectedly last year, but I digress. I just hate nepotism, in general lol.

Love you, Joe. The Thicket kicked ass, sir. Oh, wait. That was Joe Lansdale. Too many Joe’s at the horror show.

If you were a poverty stricken cracker growing up through the seventies, then this film is a slap in the face to the old-school. I could smell the cigarette smoke in the carpets and heavy alcoholic exhales of the irate Father, all thanks to a production company who pays attention. It also helps that nepotism allows for DNA donations; that being Joe Hill’s ability to write like his father did in the Salem’s Lot era. It’s a terrifying nod to an entire decade, with a tax bracket all its own. Now, it’s only recalled and blamed during family interventions and films such as Black Phone and Dazed and Confused.

As far as The Grabber is concerned? I believe he’s yet-to-be crowned horror royalty for this current generation. We, me and mine, had Michael, Freddie, & Jason. Gen Z had absolute shit. Now these undeserving twerps get The Grabber, that lame Backrooms stuff, and hit-and-miss Ari Aster. It’s like how we’re not in WWIII right now, because no one referred to WWII as it happened. They saved that nonsense for the history books. At least I think I’m right. I don’t care enough about being right, to actually seek the facts, so I’ll just roll along with what I currently think. You may do the same for the sake of the remainder of the article. If not, what are you going to do? Take away my television privileges? I make a living off of television privileges! To sum it up, we’ve been living in WWIII for about half a decade. How’d you feel?

In an oversaturated market of internet-born horror films, it’s a breath of fresh air when a proven professional studio shows they remember how to knock it out of the park; instead of delivering squalor.

For the lens geeks with a bit of ’tism, I can’t help but notice several camera nods to Silence of the Lambs and a few more of the more serious, psychological horror gems from the nineties (when villains suddenly began receiving personalities in film instead of just a sharp object). I have no choice but to believe my assumptions, since the opposite wouldn’t work without the existence of time travel. If I accept time travel as a legitimate technology, then I must accept aliens, and that’s too damn much to ask of me on a holiday. Also, I already believe in aliens, so there.

The only thing truly missing from this film in it’s birth-year-salad, today’s special homage was an abundance of cigarette smoking. I’m not too sure if that was just a low-income family thing, or perhaps Joe Hill didn’t remember being smoked out by Daddy’s humble book royalty beginnings. I think King was a smoker back then; it’s implied in his early characterizations, from a writer’s standpoint. Hill gives us one of the best suburban terrors recent film has to offer.

Ethan Hawke is a freaking psychopath here, and I love every second he’s on screen. Not necessarily his lines, but how he interprets Hill’s Grabber psyche. Again, I’m assuming that’s how it all went down, because I never read the story. No, it wasn’t a test to see if you’re paying attention, I’m just repeating it for convenience. It’s the acting of specific parts of his body uncovered by the mask. His eyes, cheekbones, etc; translating into debilitating fear with each subtle flinch. I just ordered a Grabber mask from Amazon to add to my collection. That’s the greatest thing about living in the arts district of a big city. You can do weird shit like that, and it’s even appreciated. Halloween is a frame of mind. So is Schizophrenia, but who’s judging? Also, I forgot to put * in ‘shit’ this time. We’re almost to the end. You honestly shouldn’t care by this point.

What I’d argue most about Black Phone is that The Grabber character is entirely inconsequential. Yes, he’s a serial killer who does horrible things to kids, but the act is merely a vessel for what’s really going on behind the scenes. This is ultimately a story about awakenings, understanding, and reconnection. It’s about overcoming your adversaries; whether that be your fear of bullies, the stigma of a deceased family member, or life-crushing alcoholism.

If anything, the real villain in this film doesn’t wear the mask at all; it’s the father character who shunned his wife, drove her to suicide, gave into his alcoholism, and chooses intense violence against his own children…

…all because of the public’s general perception of the mess he’d inherited.

The Jesus freaks of the 1970’s have played the villain on film countless times. I’m sure we can stack a bit more blame on their shoulders without too much argument.

The father is the villain of the whole damn film, and your opposing observations may be double flushed in a truck stop bathroom somewhere outside of Weed, California. Whether it’s a Love’s, Pilot, or Flying J is inconsequential. Flush It. Flush it all the way back to the 1970’s, Yellow-can Coor’s Beer, and Truck Driving anthems. Even the cops resisted the urge to be stupid in this movie. They heard a little girl was psychic, they asked her things, and she led them to the house across the street. What is that? 95% accuracy? I’d take those odds again as a cop.

In the end, Hill hat-tips his father’s skill-gone-by concerning us all with the deceased children’s spirits, and their contribution to the main character’s continued survival. Subtle hints in my mind of what a mentally unstable GOONIES with an R rating could’ve been (or what still should be). The Loser’s Club, but buried in a basement.

Roll credits.

As I sit here in reflection on this, the 250th birthday of our nation, I imagine what reminds me most of American independence. That answer is the paycheck-to-paycheck 1970’s. I remember feeling the world shift upon Ronald Regan’s election, and the early strings of the inevitable Ultra Right Wing revolution was born. Nothing felt “right” after that; a hard truth for a f’ing seven year old. I psychically hated Ronald Reagan, and had no idea why. I’m only truly realizing it in the moment. Dude fricked my flow.

In the end, the kid who was too afraid to throw a punch gives us a heartfelt ending which I won’t spoil in these paragraphs. You expect the overall antagonist to come up missing ala the Halloween franchise, but he doesn’t. He also does so without a stinger in the credits. A rare and true ‘one and done’ horror film for the new undeserved.

Or so we thought. Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. We’ll discuss Black Phone 2 soon, because it’s so worth discussing…

4/5 in the rewatch. Possibly 4.5

All that, and I didn’t even bait you with how the mask was made to mimic Jeffrey Epstein…