Maybe it’s the bulging eyes, or his dark-hearted, dopey sense of humour, but there’s an edge to Pete Davidson that makes him a perfect genre movie stooge. A loveable fuck-up who takes whatever progressively hideous situation he finds himself in totally in his stride. Never overwhelmed, even by the very gnarliest of plot twists.
Which is likely why The Purge’s James DeMonaco has bet so big on the stand-up in The Home. Not just casting Davidson front and centre in this, the director’s first stab at horror in the best part of a decade, but seemingly building the entire movie around him too. A low-rent, almost grindhousey nod to the goofier side of the ’80s, that sees the comedian take on a retirement home full of syringe-wielding orderlies.
In fact, take Davidson out of the equation and there’s not much really here; a creepy nursing home with a bunch of locked doors, and the general air that something’s not quite right. But in his oddly affable criminal-turned-janitor Max, we get not just an empathetic lead, but a very fun and unpredictable rudder too. Forcing the otherwise drab and by-the-numbers plot completely off course.
Because while DeMonaco’s work is usually a little too mannered (even the kookiest moments of his Purge films feel like they’re trying to make a serious political point), The Home twists and turns itself into anything but. Leaving behind its early blandness – a cheap, old school, one location mystery that runs out of road very quickly – for significantly weirder (and more welcome) flavours. To the point in fact, that the film feels almost embarrassed of its own opening act, throwing every last shred of moral and emotional decency it built into a big old blender, and purposefully leaving the cap off.
It might not make a whole lot of sense, and those looking for a safe sandbox for the usual jump-scares will likely be disappointed, but The Home’s third act is a real marvel. ’80s splatter movie silliness straddling multiple genres, and begging to sit somewhere between Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator, and Brian Yuzna’s Society. It’s ultimately not as ballsy as either (and the blunt nods to both do the film zero favours) but the willingness to commit narratively to such nastiness deserves a steady heap of praise.
Don’t misread me, by the time The Home finally gets going, it is a total mess, fully devoted to throwing every last sudden idea at the wall, hoping the absolute avalanche of puerility will be enough to see it through. But to give DeMonaco and his team their credit, it’s an insanely fun air punch of a closer; the sort of looniness you can’t help but shout about for days after.
If only it didn’t take over an hour to get there.
The Home screened as part of FrightFest 2025.
