THE BOY. A Gothic Dollhouse with No Real Scares

When young American woman Greta arrives for a job interview at the Heelshire family’s English estate, all she knows is that her duties will include taking care of their eight-year-old son, Brahms. The elderly couple plans to go away for a while but doesn’t want to leave their child alone. Greta is delighted by the large house she’ll soon be living in, though a bit less thrilled by the long list of rules she must follow to please her employers—and their son. Except, the boy turns out to be… a doll, a small toy with a pale porcelain complexion, dressed like a proper young English gentleman. The Heelshires treat him as if he were a living boy and expect Greta to do the same.

Greta goes along with it, but soon after the couple leaves, she realizes something is very wrong with Brahms.

The Boy takes a familiar horror concept—a living, deadly doll—and places it in the setting of a gothic horror film.

It’s a bold idea to mix such an absurd, overused premise with the atmosphere of a classic ghost story, but in the hands of a skilled director, it could’ve resulted in something at least intriguing. No such luck. William Brent Bell directs the film as if he wasn’t even present on set. You might appreciate the creativity of the story, the elegance of the cinematography, and Lauren Cohan’s solid lead performance—but The Boy is not only not scary, it’s mostly lifeless. It has the pace of a dying man’s heartbeat, interrupted by a few loud jump scares that momentarily give the illusion of life every twenty minutes or so. Don’t be fooled—Bell’s film is as anemic as its porcelain namesake.

Perhaps the biggest issue lies with Brahms himself. He has none of the makings of a new Chucky—his pale face and frozen expression are more pitiful than eerie. Considering he’s a substitute for the Heelshires’ real son, who died tragically years ago, their emotional investment is understandable. Greta, too, has her reasons for eventually seeing something more than just a well-made toy in the unmoving doll. But there’s no real horror here. The fact that Brahms only “moves” when no one is watching doesn’t help the film’s cause either.

So how does the director attempt to scare the viewer? With a lot of ambiguity.

The hosts seem distant toward yet another potential nanny, yet they show compassion and even apologize to Greta just before their departure. They give her meticulous instructions regarding Brahms’ care, as if trying not to forget anything—while also clearly omitting something important. A local shopkeeper, who delivers food to the estate once a week, is more interested in Greta than the mysteries of her charge. Then there’s the list of rules she must follow—at first glance, laughable, but upon closer inspection, they reveal the Heelshires’ true secret. All this sounds better in theory than it works on screen. The atmosphere is built through music and cinematography, but the director sleepwalks through the transitions from scene to scene, ignoring the overall dramatic arc in favor of frequent use of slow motion.

What The Boy does handle well is how it explains various supernatural occurrences.

The doll’s “tears” are actually just the result of a leaking ceiling. The eerie nighttime scene of Greta wandering through the empty house and being attacked by a figure from a painting is simply a dream. A nightmare, really—right down to the satin nightgown she wears, which looks stunning on her but doesn’t match anything she wears before or after. That outfit alone is a clue not to trust what we’re seeing. The film’s ending follows that same thread, offering a logical—if not exactly satisfying—resolution. The gothic vibes are ultimately pushed aside in favor of slasher-movie antics involving an indestructible killer, making The Boy an even greater horror disappointment.

During the screening, I started to wonder whether Greta herself had provoked Brahms’ aggressive behavior. After all, she was supposed to care for him, feed him, read poetry, play classical music, and kiss him goodnight. He may not be a real boy, but it’s hard to deny that she didn’t do her job very well. So should she really be surprised by his increased activity and the mischief that followed? Not really. If the film carries any meaningful message, it’s probably this: always do your job properly—and never take your eyes off the doll.