As we settle into 2025, the cinematic landscape, as always, presents a curious mix of the predictable and the potentially surprising. One can already sense the familiar churn of franchises attempting to reignite past glories, alongside a smattering of originals hoping to cut through the noise. It’s a landscape where the sheer volume of content often threatens to overwhelm any genuine spark of artistry, leaving one to wonder if we’re not simply treading water. Marvel movies, franchises and I.P have been the go to in the last decade. There’s a creeping sense of sameness to it all, a feeling that the creative well, if it ever ran particularly deep, is now dangerously close to dry. The reliance on established characters and storylines, the risk-averse nature of these productions, often results in films that feel less like individual artistic endeavors and more like cogs in a vast, commercially driven machine.
Amidst these tentpole releases, however, there are always glimmers of something more intriguing. Bong Joon-ho’s Mickey 17, for example. Although I left disappointed at the very least, it took a swing. It may have just been a few off kilter performances that kept taking me out of the movie to really enjoy it. I have a feeling in a few years I'll see it and might see it differently. So I had no expectations for The Companion.
(The following has a spoiler for the twist at around the 30 minute mark, although the trailer does give the game away unfortunately)
In a cinematic landscape lately resembling a prolonged shrug, here’s a film that actually seems to have some juice, some vinegar in its veins. You go in expecting the usual tired tropes, the predictable scares, instead you get something… messier, more alive. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot, but in a world of carefully calibrated, committee-approved product, it's very imperfections feel like a breath of fresh, albeit slightly blood-tinged, air.
The setup is familiar enough: a group heads to a remote cabin, secrets are revealed, things go wrong. It’s a framework that’s been used countless times, and the success hinges entirely on the execution.
Drew Hancock’s film manages to swerve just enough to keep you engaged, even if it doesn’t quite stick the landing with the force one might hope for. It’s a messy picture, ambitious in its reach, and while it doesn’t always connect, there’s a raw enthusiasm that’s hard to dismiss entirely.
Sophie Thatcher’s performance as Iris is undoubtedly the anchor here. She navigates the shifts in her character with a compelling intensity. There’s a vulnerability there, yes, but also a growing steeliness that keeps you invested in her journey, even when that journey takes some rather bizarre turns. Jack Quaid, he’s carving out a nice little niche for himself playing these seemingly affable guys with a darkness lurking beneath. He nails that unsettling charm, making his character’s less savory moments all the more effective. The supporting cast, while perhaps not given the deepest material, certainly contributes to the overall sense of escalating unease and eventual outright pandemonium.
Hancock shows a knack for building atmosphere. The initial tranquility of the remote setting gradually gives way to a creeping unease, and there are moments where the tension is genuinely palpable. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, and the bursts of violence, when they arrive, have a visceral impact. There’s a certain playful quality to the mayhem, a sense that Hancock is aware of the genre conventions he’s playing with, even if he doesn’t always subvert them in truly surprising ways. The balance between comedy and horror is a tightrope walk. Lean too heavily on the humor, and the scares lose their impact. Embrace the darkness too much, and the film can become oppressive. Finding that sweet spot, where the laughter enhances the dread, is a mark of a confident filmmaker.
The script attempts to weave in some weightier themes – questions of artificial intelligence, the dynamics of toxic relationships, and the search for autonomy. These ideas are present, flickering beneath the surface of the more straightforward horror elements. At times, they add an intriguing layer to the proceedings, prompting a bit more thought than your average slasher. However, these thematic explorations occasionally feel a bit underdeveloped, like interesting avenues that weren’t fully pursued. The social commentary that’s been mentioned is there, certainly, in the way the film flips certain power dynamics, but it doesn’t always feel as sharp or as deeply integrated as it could have been. The undercurrent of misogyny in Companion isn't exactly woven with subtlety, but it’s certainly present and accounted for. Take Jack Quaid’s character, Josh. There’s a moment, a crude aside, where he essentially reduces Iris to a mere “fuckbot.” It speaks volumes about a certain strain of male entitlement, the tendency to view women, particularly in intimate relationships, as objects for gratification. It’s a crass, dehumanizing remark, and while the film doesn’t necessarily dwell on it, it hangs in the air, a stark reminder of the casual contempt that can often lurk beneath the surface of seemingly ordinary interactions. It's a small, ugly detail, but it contributes to the film’s unsettling undercurrent, a hint of the toxic masculinity that the narrative ultimately seems to be pushing back against, albeit with a healthy dose of gore.
The film’s unpredictability is one of its strengths. Just when you think you know where it’s going, Hancock throws in a curveball. This keeps the pacing brisk and prevents the film from becoming too formulaic. However, this same eagerness to surprise can sometimes lead to moments that feel a little unearned, a little too out of left field to fully resonate. The campy finale, while undeniably energetic, might strike some as a bit too much, a descent into gleeful absurdity.
Ultimately, Companion is a film with ambition and a certain undeniable drive. It’s entertaining, it’s certainly bloody, and it manages to offer a few moments that stick with you.
It doesn’t quite reach the level of genuine insight or sustained brilliance, and some of its thematic explorations feel a bit half-formed. But there’s enough here – a strong central performance, a willingness to play with genre, and a few genuinely surprising twists – to make it a worthwhile, if not entirely groundbreaking, cinematic detour. It’s a film that’s not afraid to get a little messy and have some fun in the process. It’s got a genuine spark, a raw energy that’s often missing these days. It’s the kind of film that reminds you that even within genre conventions, there’s still room for invention, for a filmmaker to put their own stamp on things. It’s a good, solid jolt of cinematic adrenaline, and right now, that’s something worth celebrating.