Generational Horror: A Review of The Home
⭐⭐ 2/5
The Unsettling Premise: Community Service in Creepy Halls
James DeMonaco, the creator of the successful Purge franchise, attempts to swap national anarchy for institutional horror in The Home. Starring Pete Davidson as Max, a troubled, cynical graffiti artist sentenced to community service at a secluded retirement facility called Green Meadows, the film starts with an intriguing, if familiar, premise. Max, haunted by a traumatic past, finds himself in a labyrinth of sterile halls and polite but unsettling residents. The initial build-up is effective, leaning on the inherent creepiness of institutional settings and the unspoken fear of aging. Max is immediately given the one rule all horror protagonists must break: the fourth floor, reserved for “special care,” is strictly forbidden. This strong foundation, hinting at psychological dread and a slow-burn mystery, establishes a compelling stage for generational conflict and hidden evils.
The Miscast Anchor: Davidson’s Struggle for Gravity
While Pete Davidson, best known for comedy, attempts a straightforward dramatic turn as Max, his performance struggles to anchor the film with the necessary emotional gravity. Max is intended to be a deeply troubled character—a generational misfit expressing his angst through environmentalist vandalism—but Davidson’s performance often feels like a thinly veiled extension of his sarcastic persona. In moments requiring true terror or profound anguish, his default expression borders on the bemused, undercutting the escalating suspense. While he finds believable chemistry with veteran supporting actors like Mary Beth Peil, who plays the insightful resident Norma, Max’s inconsistent reaction to genuinely bizarre occurrences—such as residents having spontaneous bleeding or engaging in masked rituals—makes his continued presence at the facility seem ludicrous rather than mandatory, straining the viewer’s suspension of disbelief.
Muddled Messaging and Genre Whiplash
The Home truly collapses under the weight of its own ambition, suffering from severe tonal and narrative whiplash. DeMonaco attempts to layer several complex themes—generational resentment, climate change apathy (explicitly referenced via graffiti and news broadcasts), and the exploitation of youth by elders—into a schlocky body horror framework. The subtlety of the early scenes gives way to an increasingly chaotic and gratuitous third act. The “big reveal,” which involves a convoluted conspiracy where the elderly residents are harvesting the essence/fluid of younger people for eternal life (and orgies), shifts the film from psychological thriller into outlandish sci-fi horror. This final, blood-soaked segment, while providing a brief cathartic explosion of violence for Max, feels completely disjointed from the atmosphere established in the first hour, relying on eye-rolling twists and shock value over earned tension.
Conclusion: A Wasted Opportunity
Ultimately, The Home is a frustrating watch. It takes a bold, socially resonant concept—the fear of the future and the trauma inherited from previous generations—and squanders it on uneven pacing, illogical character choices, and a climax that feels more desperate than horrifying. Despite a strong cast and a director known for tapping into social anxieties, the execution is muddled, suggesting the film never quite decided whether it wanted to be an intelligent satire, a paranoid thriller, or a cartoonishly grotesque gore-fest. It settles for a bit of everything, achieving mastery in none.
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