2024 is officially the year of making movie monsters your boyfriend.
Earlier this year we got the criminally underappreciated Lisa Frankenstein (2024), a story about a teen who falls for a Frankenstein-like monster. Now, we turn to werewolves with Caroline Lindy’s Your Monster (2024).
Based on the 2019 short of the same name, Your Monster tells the story of Laura (Melissa Barrera), a soft-spoken actress whose life crumbles around her after a cancer diagnosis and a devastating breakup with her playwright boyfriend Jacob (Edmund Donovan). Upon returning to her childhood home, she discovers and forges a relationship with the Monster (Tommy Dewey, reprising his role from the short film), who is living in her closet.
Lindy’s film functions as a loving parody of romantic comedies while also being a successful rom-com itself. It leans into the heightened emotions and cheesy campiness of familiar genre beats — over-the-top sobbing post-breakup, montages unfurling our central romance, a cartoonish oaf of an ex — in a sincere way. Lindy never turns her nose up at the genre; each beat serves the emotional arcs and is delivered earnestly and truthfully.
Much of the film’s success falls on the shoulders of Barrera and Dewey, who emanate a palpable electricity. Despite the absurdity of their relationship, it works; their chemistry is utterly intoxicating as they play off each other beautifully.
Dewey infuses Monster with a charm and silliness that doesn’t feel cumbersome or exhausting. You’re excited when he’s on screen and miss him when he’s gone. There is a pain bubbling just beneath the surface thanks to Dewey’s layered performance. Monster is a ticking timebomb that has you on the edge of your seat waiting for him to erupt. Like Laura, he’s conceded to making himself smaller for the comfort of others. Dewey masterfully sprinkles moments of subtlety on top of the charm that rounds Monster out.
Ultimately, Your Monster becomes most captivating when it shifts gears from a traditional rom-com into a story about a woman coming to terms with (and embracing) her rage. Laura has everything taken from her: her health, her love, a Broadway role her ex promised her. She repeatedly makes herself smaller and suppresses her feelings out of “obligation” to people in her life.
Barrera thoughtfully navigates the tonal tightrope between earnest campiness and suppressed rage. When she finally cracks Laura open, you’re left speechless, heartbroken, but oddly proud. She molds Laura’s reconnection with her voice into a worthwhile, complex journey culminating in a showstopping performance worthy of the Broadway stage (elevated by the remarkable show tune “My Stranger” written by The Lazours). Barrera’s star power shines at the highest wattage possible as she juggles every skill in her arsenal. If anything, we’re seeing a performer who is just getting started (and who needs to be on a Broadway stage ASAP).
Another lovely standout is the ever-brilliant Meghann Fahy. Rom-coms frequently introduce “The Other Woman” as direct competition to our main character. The Other Woman is only there to yield comedic conflict. Sometimes they’re given a glimmer of a tender side, but their function is largely to serve as an obstacle. The character of Jackie, however, is written to flip The Other Woman trope on its head. The moment Jackie arrives, we know who she is supposed to be. However, through Fahy’s magnetic warmth and effusive empathy, she instantaneously becomes someone to root for and one of the few people that genuinely supports Laura.
Another one of the film’s bright spots is having part of it take place within the rehearsals for a Broadway musical written by Laura’s ex. Not only does the plot and music of this fictional show parallel Laura’s own journey but it adds a clever layer of irony given that her heinous ex wrote an entire show about misogyny and women breaking free from society’s expectations placed upon them. It’s a wonderful showcase of how powerful men can co-opt the experiences of marginalized people for profit without any actual care for the plight of the communities they’re claiming to uplift.
The rehearsal room also allows the various character dynamics to unfurl and evolve. It almost functions as a check-in for the audience where they can see the nuances unfold rather than simply being told about it. We watch in real time as Laura reevaluates her relationships, shifts her loyalties, and takes up more space.
Lindy opts to show rather than tell her audience and, for the most part, it works very well. However, she sporadically tosses some expository elements about our characters that bring the film’s momentum to a lull. While I appreciate their purpose, I wish they were explored or deepened more thoroughly. For example, the Monster apparently has lived inside Laura’s closet since her childhood, but we don’t really get a lot of insight into that or how that impacts their current relationship. Just one quick little glimpse and it’s never addressed again. This bit of backstory does enhance the dynamic and the overall message of embracing and acknowledging the darker feelings we experience. But, with how quickly it’s thrown in, it feels more like an afterthought than an effective layer.
I’m willing to forgive some of the shortcomings in favor of the audacious nature of the film. Lindy is playing with so many genres — rom-com, horror, musical theatre — in such a loving and reverent manner. There’s a fundamental understanding of what makes each element work so well on its own which allows Lindy to bring them together and mold them into one wacky, yet cohesive piece. Much like Lisa Frankenstein, Your Monster repurposes a classic movie monster to highlight the power of embracing dark feelings that society has deemed abnormal or uncouth.
Lindy takes a familiar tale and asks us to view it through a new lens that will surely be added to many regular spooky season rotations to come.
Review Courtesy of Adam Patla
Image Courtesy of Vertical Entertainment via Substream Magazine