Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien power this wild and warped Desert Island (mis)adventure
Sam Raimi is back. A blessing to all, save those who have to suffer the experience of having blood, vomit, insects, or other nasty substances poured over their faces on one of his sets. Know for his visual flair and wicked sense of fun stamped onto horror films such as Evil Dead, and Drag Me to Hell, superhero jawns such as the Spider-Man trilogy, Darkman, and one of the few bright spots of Marvel’s last few years of output, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. Send Help is a glorious return to the big screen and the horror genre for the director, who weaves his trademark tricks into a wild and warped desert island (mis)adventure.
Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) is a meek corporate strategist and financial analyst (not accountant). Perpetually overlooked at work despite her skill and graft. A long promised promotion seems to finally be heading her way, however the newly installed CEO Bradley Preston (Dylan O’Brien) reneges on his father’s pledge, instead handing it to one of his fraternity brothers. A smug, coarse executive who has coasted on inherited power and bravado dangles a chance for Linda to impress on an upcoming business trip, but the opportunity turns to tragedy when their private plane hits bad weather crashes in the remote seas near Thailand. Only Linda and Bradley survive, and the timid Linda suddenly finds herself in her element. Years of training for the TV series Survivor are suddenly key to their success. meanwhile Bradley’s bluster and leg injury leave him largely helpless and dependent on Linda. The dynamic shifts, a flux between conflict and collaboration emerges, but as time goes on the friction and underlying issues between and within each of them starts to mount.
It’s a simple, absorbing premise, taking a reality TV phenomenon and planting a phenomenal exploration of power dynamics as well as a horror movie in the middle of it. The film harkens back to Misery, another hostage-centric film built on psychological games and physical torment. That film works largely because of Kathy Bates’ miraculous tonal control, soft, caring, until the tilt into the psychotic. McAdams pulls off something similarly impressive, navigating a zany, cartoonish tonal shift that never quite settles into easy villainy, and never truly alienates the audience. The film smartly dabbles in moral grey areas, letting resentment bubble beneath the surface until motivations and allegiances grow murky, keeping the unfolding events delightfully surprising.
McAdams gives a beautifully controlled performance, deliberately suppressing her natural magnetism early on. Linda is introduced as downtrodden and mousy, with clunky shoes, motivational posters, a parrot at home. In-short, a woman who has learned to make herself small. But as the island strips away corporate hierarchies and social niceties, McAdams lets the magnetism drip out gradually, and the effect is transformative. Her arc, from timid to liberated, overlooked to indispensable, is one of the film’s most compelling aspects and gives the movie a propulsive energy. The comedic timing and delivery that was so well showcased in Game Night, is firing on all cylinders here. Equally impressive is O’Brien, playing Bradley as an odious sort whose confidence curdles as his relative fitness, injury, and environment conspire against him. O’Brien manifests a seething force who occasionally cracks under punishment, whether from the island itself or from Linda’s growing resolve. What could have been a one-note antagonist instead develops layers, particularly as Bradley oscillates between petulance, grudging admiration, and outright cruelty.
Thematically, Send Help taps into something uncomfortably current, a world witnessing a reassertion of male dominance and privilege. Bradley is the embodiment of this, having inherited the company from his father (keep your eyes open in the office to get a glimpse of who this paternal figure is). But, like Ruben Östlund’s Triangle of Sadness, the film outlines how an underdog in one ecosystem can become top dog in another, and vice versa. Relative fitness and selective forces make a huge difference as to who wins out.
Written by Damian Shannon and Mark Swift (Freddy vs. Jason, Baywatch), the script understands tone as a weapon. It knows exactly how far to push silliness without deflating tension, how to escalate from goofy to gnarly, and how to keep the audience squirming while laughing. The result is a devilishly fun survival thriller that’s as much about festering resentments and psychological warfare as it is about physical endurance. We’ve all had a boss we hated. We’ve all watched Survivor and thought about how we might thrive, or snap, in that situation. Send Help weaponizes those shared fantasies and anxieties, spreading its wings far beyond the cubicle and into something twisted, wickedly fun, and crowd-pleasing.
Then there’s Raimi himself, gleefully amplifying every line and moment with his signature moves. The Looney Tunes-esque camera flourishes, a boar-cam Evil Dead throwback, the jump scares, it’s all here, and it’s celebratory rather than stale. Vomit in the face once might be crude. twice is over the top, five times is the Raimi sweet spot. Rat-related nastiness, testicular trauma, bodily fluids galore, the film is delightfully, perversely nasty, and clearly having a blast doing it. Some digital effects beg for practical replacements, especially when shown up by the hands-on craft elsewhere in the film.
It’s been over 25 years since his last R-rated feature and Raimi proves he still has the touch. Anchored by a powerhouse pairing in McAdams and O’Brien, Send Help is a rollicking, squirm-in-your-seat good time, hilarious, nasty, and guaranteed to leave you cackling your way out of the theater.
Send Help lands in theaters on January 30th
