The truth: It’s really not a very good movie
This horror flick uses social media, but it’s superficial and feels old-fashioned
For years, horror filmmakers have seemed baffled by the cellphone problem — the ubiquity of a device that can call for help, warn others, etc. — that narratively they anesthetized it. Deadlier than Jason or Freddy, cellphones were not threatening teens and coeds, they were slaying the horror genre. “Are cellphones ruining horror?” pundits fretted, as genre fans were subjected to a barrage of poor reception problems and nostalgia-soaked throwbacks in which cellphones were non-existent.
Some filmmakers adjusted and thrived. Films like Paranormal Activity and Unfriended not only tackle technology but embrace it by using the conventions of surveillance footage and Skype to build a sense of paranoia and dread. On the surface, the new horror film Truth or Dare seems to be a continuation of that legacy
as it embraces social media as a central storytelling motif. Unfortunately, the film wastes its energy keeping up with a convoluted set of rules while mixing awkward melodrama with uninspired horror set pieces.
It’s spring break and a group of non-threatening university students celebrate in Mexico. Things take a turn when a mysterious man at a bar invites them to an abandoned church, where they inadvertently play a game of truth or dare haunted by a trickster demon. At first, the rules seem simple: Play truth or dare, or die. However, an narrative problem lingers: Why not just choose truth?
While the writers try to imagine some dark scenarios in which telling the truth could invite horrific results, once the characters realize they are caught in a deadly game with a demon, they avoid “dare” like the death wish that it is. So, the writers put in a special clause that due to some hyperspecific events that unfold before the film began, for every two “truths,” there has to be a “dare.”
Much of the film, therefore, unfolds like the stepchild of Idle Hands and Final Destination, without the flair for comedy or extravagance that either film excels at. If there’s any pleasure in this setup, it’s that there is a certain pleasure in watching predictable scenarios unfold predictably.
The film’s circular logic might have been forgivable if Truth or Dare had committed to the esthetic adventurousness in the film’s opening credits, composed of the characters’ Snapchat stories.
Overall, though, the film has the sleek veneer of a second-rate CW show. In contrast to how young people actually use social media to create genre-bending mixed media works, Truth or Dare feels generic and old-fashioned: a cheap PG-13 horror seen through a vaguely disconcerting Snapchat filter.
While the film uses social media for narrative convenience — Snapchat, Facebook and YouTube are the tools to find freedom from the game — it does so superficially.
The film’s thematic journey seems built on a question about self-sacrifice versus the greater good, but that idea is never articulated within the context of social media.