LOVE AND MONSTERS (2020)

You know that feeling when you're anticipating a movie so hard? You're preoccupied with the trailers and news and the only way to absolutely scratch that itch is to, uh…see it? But it ends up committing the most heinous movie sin of all: it's just okay. Disappointment is a whole other thing—that could be on you, because you hyped it too much, or Twitter hyped it too much, or maybe you expected something that it didn't end up being. Not exactly the fault of the film. Having something you've been so excited about turning out merely okay is like ordering a pizza and someone brings you a pizza-flavored cracker.

Then there are the movies for which you have no expectations. Maybe they just don't seem like your typical bag. Or maybe you're not familiar with the source material (because what's an original story?). Or maybe it seems like it should be right up your alley but somehow you missed the hype and the release and the whole thing. Maybe there's a global pandemic and one of your favorite places in the world is deemed no longer safe, so everything shuts down and you're too busy worrying about washing your groceries o pay attention to what movies, if any, are being released.

Sound familiar?

LOVE AND MONSTERS came out last October simultaneously in theaters (for a single weekend) and on digital platforms for home viewing.

With the aforementioned everything going on, I didn't register it. It sat there for months, in the world, without any attention from me; and for that, I'm truly sorry. I'm sorry to Love and I'm sorry to the Monsters.

A film that starts in the post-apocalypse when you feel like your own world is rapidly heading there might not seem like the best comfort food, but maybe my mind was particularly suited for that kind of story. (Admittedly, I'm wired to dig post-apocalyptic tales in a regular year, too.) Unlike all the successful tales of asteroids blown up and our planet saved, LOVE AND MONSTERS starts with a credit sequence history lesson about a failed salvation; sure, the asteroid blew up, but the fallout caused enough problems to wipe out 95% of the world's population, leaving the survivors to scatter underground in bunkers, with the upstairs world left to the wilds.

Joel (Dylan O’Brien) is one of these survivors and the only single man left in his particular group of scavengers turned couples-family.

While the rest of his bunker mates take turns going aboveground to look for supplies, Joel has proven himself to be a liability; overcome with fear and paralysis, it's long been decided that Joel is best underground—the little brother who makes a good minestrone.

He pines for Aimee (Jessica Henwick), the girl he loved in the before time from whom he was separated the day everything went to hell, the day both of his parents died, the day a lot of people’s parents died.

After an exhaustive radio survey of other bunkers, he's able to locate her and they reconnect through the static. When Joel's household suffers a tragedy, he decides he has no other choice but to overcome his fears of the surface and go to Aimee. In the old world, 85 miles is an afternoon away. But with the new rules, things are a little trickier.

Enter those monsters we were promised.

Think about that fluttery evolutionary response you have in the middle of your chest when you find a spider in the corner of your bedroom, or a scorpion making its way across the kitchen floor.

You know in GHOSTBUSTERS when Egon describes the recent paranormal activity spike in New York as dessert, and Winston says "that's a big Twinkie"?  Think “big Twinkie” but instead of yellow cake and cream filling, it's legs on a 'pede or dripping teeth in the extra large mouth of what used to be an earthworm. Nightmare fuel. Every cold-blooded animal has mutated in the new world, DNA strains ripped apart and reformed by the fallout from the hero missile that destroyed the asteroid. You win some, you lose some.

Think more eyes, more teeth, bad attitudes, unusual sizes. A variety pack of slimy, chewy, nasties that inhabit every corner and crevice. The world is overrun with these things, which is why the leftover humans have put enforced metal walls and several feet of dirt between themselves and the surface.

Joel sets off alone to get to Aimee, with tentative well wishes and loving support from his bunker family. They see it as a fool's errand and not a hero's journey, because they've seen the extent of not only Joel's fear, but of the danger of the surface. But what can you do when someone has their mind made up on matters of the heart? You supply them with some weapons and all the knowledge you have, and send them on their way with your own heavy heart.

Like the monsters Joel encounters along the way—an enormous toad with a tongue that resembles a legwarmer, sky jellies, and the dreaded chumblers among them—there's a lot of variations on the word love at work in here. LOVE AND MONSTERS isn't just a story of a guy trying to get to the girl he loves, it's about unconditional love from families we make, and the families that find us, and the friends that love us as we make mistakes and learn not to make them again. Or, if we keep making them.

It's about parental reversal too, and the love between humans and animals; the warm-blooded kind that, luckily, suffered no mutations whatsoever. Boy, the dog that Joel befriends on his walkabout, could star in a prequel about his past life and previous owner(s?) and I'd be all frytakemymoney.gif about it. No lie, Boy is better developed and given more to do than best friend characters from most romantic comedies made from about 1997 to 2008.

While there aren't any lowlights, Clyde (Michael Rooker) and Minnow (Ariana Greenblatt) are a highlight. The father-daughtery vibe of this killer duo is lived-in and sweet, and how easily they take Joel under their wings gives me hope that in our own post-apocalyptic future, maybe strangers will want to do more than roast us on a spit. Greenblatt is just...she's so special.

Minnow is a perceptive young girl, feisty, strong, and never once did it feel like Greenblatt was simply reading lines that an adult wrote for her.

I know I don't need to convince anyone on the power of Rooker but a question: Why hasn't he been in a Quentin Tarantino movie yet? The way he feasts on lines and individual words, I can only dream about him taking his time with a convoluted yet ultimately satisfying monologue about like, gummi worms and streaming platform wars and Then Came Bronson.

O'Brien is affability personified. I can see him aging into a Paul Rudd-type career, speckled with a little more action leads. It's natural to side with Joel right from the start of the movie, even when I admit I was more willing to side with the monsters. They didn't ask to be mutated! They're just trying to survive! Not just a likely story but the theme of so many Kaiju who were minding their own soggy business only to be hit with an unexpected blast of say, the all-encompassing "chemicals." When LOVE AND MONSTERS touches on this subject, it's brief but pivotal. 

There's an immediate rewatchability to LOVE AND MONSTERS, even if  "go, live your life" is a tough lesson right now. "Go, live your life…with a mask," or maybe "go, live your vaccinated life" feels more appropriate. Humor and cool creatures and likeable characters are more than enough to provide some escapism for those times when going out is either unsafe or impossible. Even though we might not be able to pick up and take off with the ease that we used to, there are still ways to honor the message of the film without putting ourselves or anyone else at risk. Cast the net of your love as wide as you can. Feel those loves deeply. Be kind to all creatures. And learn how to make at least one good soup.