The Humans

Directed by Stephen Karam

★★★★★

The most low-key and unexpected horror film of the year, The Humans is a masterpiece of quiet, unfolding familial drama and boasts a career defining performance from Jayne Houdyshell. The Humans is based on the stage play of the same name and is adapted for the screen and directed by its original playwright, Stephen Karam. 

The Humans is a languid drama that follows Deirdre and Erik Blake (Jayne Houdyshell and Richard Jenkins) as they move their daughter (Beanie Feldstein) and her boyfriend (Steven Yeun) into a pre-war apartment in Manhattan on Thanksgiving, with the help of their other daughter (Amy Schumer), all while keeping an eye on Erik’s dementia-ridden mother (June Squibb).

The script excels at unfolding in such a deliberate manner, that its initial undemanding pace may have you thinking that nothing is going on, but its calculated intricacies unfold to a climax so flawless, that the film cements itself into something unrivaled by other films of its ilk. The dialogue has such a natural feel to it, I found it hard to believe I was watching a film and not voyeuristically examining a Catholic family’s Thanksgiving festivities.

The film uses horror elements and cues to heighten its dramatic points. Honestly, I jumped more than I have in a lot of scary movies, and that is a testament to the film’s craftsmanship and how it has you so focused in the moment and performances, that the slightest shift is jarring.

Karam’s directing is exquisite and, honestly, baffling, considering this is his first foray into directing film. Throughout the movie, Karam focuses on everything with intent, not a single reaction from a family member or stain on the ceiling comes across the screen by accident. Particularly in the dinner scene towards the film’s climax, the camera remains fluid, circling the table as each family member says what they are thankful for. However, we rarely focus on the person speaking, rather focusing on a reaction from someone else at the table, while the camera keeps its circular, deliberate pace.

The Humans is primarily a showcase for its actors, each of them getting at least a moment to shine. Unsurprisingly, the marketing (little that there is) seems to mostly revolve around Yeun and Jenkins, which is unfortunate, as this is wholly an ensemble piece. After a standout, understated turn in Minari, Yeun mostly takes a backseat in this film. He gets to be funny a couple of times, but is mostly delegated to the earnest boyfriend role, although in his hands, it becomes more than just an archetype. Jenkins shines, specifically towards the end of the film and will undoubtedly get an awards push. Feldstein is in a role that typically would be underappreciated, but her unmatched charisma makes her screen presence incredibly dynamic. Squibb has the difficulty of playing an elderly woman with dementia, but manages to find such quiet nuances in even her silent moments that make her stand out from others who have taken on similar roles (which has increased drastically, as of late). Schumer is wonderful in the film as well and really gets to show off her dramatic chops. As a fan of her comedy, I’ve seen a lot of her, but I’ve never seen her do anything quite like this and I want more.

However, the best part of the film, by far, is Jayne Houdyshell’s Deirdre. Houdyshell delivers a masterclass in delicateness and exhibits such a raw, emotional performance, I found myself moved to tears multiple times by the smallest glimpse of heartbreak in her eyes (and damn it if I’m not misty-eyed just thinking about it now). There are few actors who are able to no longer perform, but completely embody a living, breathing person in such an effective way as Houdyshell does in this film. Deirdre is so real, I felt like I was seeing my own mother on screen, at times. She gives one of the best performances I have ever seen. Here’s hoping its subtlety doesn’t make it get overlooked on Oscar’s night.

Furthermore, The Human’s is a contemplation on familial bonds, mortality and unearthed past trauma and is, ultimately, a uniquely affecting piece of cinema, and quite honestly, it is as close to perfect as I’ve seen in a long time.

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