The Lodge gives a bad name to the modern slow-burn horror thriller. At a time when studios like A24 are finally taking the horror genre seriously and giving a voice to talented, thoughtful filmmakers who want to do more with the scary movie, The Lodge is a scapegoat for all of the dissenters who say slower movies like The Witch and Hereditary are "pretentious" and "ruining horror."
The Lodge is the kind of movie that manipulates you via anticipation. It's a frustrating sort of film that you might actually enjoy for the first 60 to 80 minutes, only to realize all of your armchair-gripping, teeth-clenching engrossment was for nothing.
The Lodge begins as a tale of grief. Aidan and Mia (Jaeden Martell and Lia McHugh) want nothing to do with their widowed father's (Richard Armitage) new girlfriend Grace (Riley Keough). She's young, she's definitely not their mom, and she's the lone survivor of a cult suicide, which has allegedly left her a "psychopath," in Aidan's words. Understandably, the kids aren't huge fans. But their father insists that they give her a chance; after all, he cares deeply about her and intends to marry her. With Christmas approaching, he proposes that the kids stay at their vacation lodge in the boonies with Grace, while he finishes up work in the city before the holiday. The kids aren't thrilled, but they don't have a whole lot of choice. So begins their isolation in the woods with a woman they believe to be crazy.
It's a classically devilish setup for a horror film—scared, distrustful kids; a woman with a checkered past who they (and we, the audience) know little about; a creaky old lodge, and the dead of winter enveloping it. Directors Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz lean heavily into the modern, "upscale" horror aesthetic, and to their credit, the craft is all there: stark, wide-open cinematography. Sparse production design. A desaturated color palette. Minimalist score and sound design, so when you hear something, you know it must mean something.
Except it doesn't. Most of it doesn't mean anything. Because the story doesn't know what to do with itself in the end. No spoilers, but the building paranoia and supernatural teases amount to nothing. The "reveal" of the source of all the provocative, supposed terror is incredibly deflating, nonsensical, and confusing. I was literally on the edge of my seat for about the first two-thirds of the film, only to find that I'd gotten worked up for nothing. It's a baffling story decision on the parts of Fiala, Franz, and writer Sergio Casci. Maybe they were going for the ultimate subversion—I really can't tell—but there's no meta-commentary here, not deconstruction or dissection of storytelling or the horror genre, nor even a reflection on grief or moving on. It's simply a bullshit revelation.
And I struggle with hating this movie, because, despite how it sounds, there's a lot of good going into it. The cast is pretty great; Martell and McHugh are effectively annoying but still sympathetic, given their situation. Armitage gives a simple but nuanced performance as a flawed father wanting to do well—he's not quite the jerk his kids would have you believe. And Keough gives a chilling turn as Grace.
Likewise, Fiala's and Franz's understanding of slow, quiet tension is apparent; I was thoroughly captivated during the rising action. It would have behooved them to pick a better script or hire more competent writers, because their talent behind the camera shows a lot of promise.
It's hard to speak exactly to this film's core problem without spoiling, but as it's been said, the last act of your film can make or break your film, and this is squarely a case of the latter. I can't remember another film in recent memory to make its previous 90 minutes feel so worthless in the last 20. The best way I can describe The Lodge is "a waste of time."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCLOqdzAP9E&w=585