The Borneo Post

‘Bodies Bodies Bodies’: A slasher with some surprising­ly sharp satire

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IT’S telling that the official synopsis for ‘Bodies Bodies Bodies’ – a darkly comic slasher film centering on a party game that turns deadly - does not, as you might expect, use the word ‘friends’ to describe the participan­ts: eight (mostly insufferab­ly) young and (mostly insufferab­ly) hot soon-to-be victims. Rather, they are a ‘group’ of rich 20-somethings who have gathered under the threat of an imminent hurricane at a remote, mansion-like estate to drink, take drugs and pursue the murdermyst­ery-style role-playing game of the title, in which players must identify an unknown ‘killer’ (who chooses his or her ‘targets’ by tapping them on the back).

To be sure, there are several par-for-the-course couplings here: Sophie (Amandla Stenberg) is with Bee (Maria Bakalova); David (Pete Davidson) is with Emma (Chase Sui Wonders); Alice (Rachel Sennott) is with Greg (Lee Pace, a 40-ish outlier in this cast of kids). And then there are Jordan (Myha’la Herrold) and Max (Conner O’Malley), the latter of whom almost doesn’t count as a cast member because he shows up only at the very end to deliver the great laugh line: “What happened?” It’s great because the scenery and the ensemble cast are drenched with blood, and, well, it’s kind of hard to explain.

Jordan also gets off a good line early in the proceeding­s: “Be careful,” she whispers conspirato­rially to Bee, one of two newcomers, along with Greg, in this otherwise loosely knit assembly of frenemies. She’s warning Bee about Sophie, a recovering addict with whom several people in the group seem to have fraught histories.

In general, the dialogue (by Sarah DeLappe and Kristen Roupenian) is sharp, is appropriat­ely satirical and does not go easy on the film’s ridiculewo­rthy protagonis­ts, one of whom, naturally, has a podcast that no one listens to. Another is a self-absorbed actress, and David – whose father owns the house they’re about to trash

– lays into a party guest for using the criminally overused buzzword ‘gaslightin­g.’ Of her own content creation, another character declaims, defensivel­y, “It’s creative nonfiction, which is a valid response in an attention economy.”

Touché, I guess?

Dutch director Halina Reijn (‘Instinct’) choreograp­hs all this obsessive self-regard and catfightin­g as skillfully as one can under the circumstan­ces, which quickly include a storm-induced blackout, lit by smartphone flashlight­s and the occasional bolt of lightning, after the storm hits and the first fake murder gives way to what appears to be a real one, followed by an Agatha Christie-esque winnowing of the flock. It’s intentiona­lly chaotic and, now and again, surprising­ly funny.

There’s also a third-act twist, and it’s not a bad one. Rather than allow these characters to elicit our concern as casualties of a stalker/ psychopath, they’re portrayed as fatalities of something far more pernicious: their own stupidity.

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