Think back to the single worst date you’ve ever had. You know, the one that started off bad before devolving into Chernobyl-level disaster, and that was less a missed connection than a full-on derailment? It may not have ended in romance, but it would always be a night to remember in all the wrong ways, not to mention giving you a great story to trot out at parties. Did you retrieve it from the ol’ memory banks? Good. Ok, now ask yourself, to the best of your recollection: Did this absolutely godawful attempt at finding true love involve some mysterious third party holding your child hostage and demanding that you kill your date, or else?
This is the premise of Drop, the latest horror movie to come off the always-chugging-away Blumhouse assembly line, and in terms of high-concept B-movie scenarios, you could do a hell of a lot worse. It helps, of course, that director Christopher Landon (Freaky) knows that there’s a lot you can do with nothing more than a single location and a star talented enough to sell some truly outrageous plot turns. Just leave your inability to suspend biblical amounts of disbelief at the door, and prepare to experience the absolute bone-chilling horror that is a constantly pinging smartphone.
Violet (The White Lotus‘s Meghann Fahy) hasn’t been a date in years, and given the circumstances regarding her previous relationship — her late husband had, to put it mildly, some anger issues — you can’t blame the lady for being gun-shy. But she’s been getting some flirty messages from a press photographer named Henry (It Ends With Us‘ Brendon Sklenar, once again in Hot Savior mode), who somehow makes a barrage of dating-app DMs seem sweet instead of instantly block-able and creepy. Plus both her young son (Jacob Robinson) and her sister (Violett Beane) thinks Violet is ready to get back out there, domestic-abuse-PTSD be damned. So she agrees to meet Henry at Palate, a swank restaurant in downtown Chicago that’s located on a skyscraper’s 38th floor. For a movie with the title Drop, you might think this counts as some type of foreshadowing. You’d be partially correct.
The word takes on a whole other meaning, however, once Violet enters the swank joint. Henry is running late, so she takes a seat at the bar. And that’s when Violet starts getting some cryptic, vaguely threatening texts. They start out as memes, jokingly suggesting she’s about to have her night, and possibly her life, ruined. Eventually, these messages begin to suggest she’d better follow incoming instructions or suffer the consequences. When Henry does show up, he blows the whole thing off as a prank. But her date also recognizes that, since these are coming in fast and furious via an app known as DigiDrop — think AirDrop, but without the copyright infringement and ensuing bad publicity — the threats are coming from someone within the restaurant. The idea of solving this mystery becomes a first-date bonding exercise. Until Henry momentarily excuses himself from the table, that is, and the person or persons behind these winky-wink messages tell her to poison Henry ASAP or the menacing guy currently hiding in her apartment will kill her boy.
From here, Drop hinges around two important questions: Can Violet complete an escalating series of tasks while simultaneously keeping her loved ones safe, not giving away that she’s being pressured into committing a murder (that automatically means Game Over for the kid), not killing the dream guy sitting across from her and figuring out who’s behind all of this? And also: Can you, the viewer, keep from throwing your hands up in frustration or yelling out “Come on!” in the theater as the plot twists keep getting more and more ridiculous?
That second bit of business is tougher than might think, given where this bit of techsploitation horror goes before all is revealed. To which we can only say: Thank god for Christopher Landon and Meghann Fahy. Both seem to recognize how mind-bogglingly preposterous so much of this is, and both inherently understand the B-movie assignment here. As with Landon’s equally ludicrous Happy Death Day 2U (2019), the fun comes from seeing exactly how deftly and stylishly the director can pull these things off; it’s like watching a magician successfully perform a trick that you know isn’t a real illusion so much as an act of misdirection, extreme co-ordination and a specific set of well-honed skills. And Fahy continues to quietly make a name for herself as someone who can underplay scenes where many actors would aim for the rafters, yet still go big when needed. Drop gives her a perfectly acceptable showcase for flexing both maternal action-hero muscles and her keep-it-slow-and-low chops. It also makes a strong case for keeping your phone on mute.
From Rolling Stone US
