Step-Grannies Gone Wild or, The Front Room Review

A24's “old people are scary” campaign continues with Max and Sam Eggers' directorial debut, The Front Room. If the last name of these two co-directors and writers catches the eye, it's for good reason: They're the younger siblings of A24 darling Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Lighthouse). Where big bro Robert's films focus on the horrors of old times, Max and Sam's film (which adapts a short story by Susan Hill) centers on the horrors — and humor — of dirty, vulgar, overbearing old people.

Despite the promises of terror that the film's star Brandy Norwood (star of 1997's Cinderella, co-singer on this great Gallant song) makes in a pre-recorded hype clip shown before the film, The Front Room plays more like a comedy. A surprisingly fun one at that!

Norwood plays Belinda, an anthropology professor taking leave in order to prepare for the birth of her child. While hesitant to not only take a break from teaching but also embark on the journey of childbirth, Belinda finds solace and support with her husband, Norman (Andrew Burnap, who snagged a Tony Award in 2021's The Inheritance). Sure, the expecting family is in debt, and lives in an old house that looks like it should be in Insidious, but they have each other and the promise of a future, and sometimes that's enough.  

This being an A24 horror-adjacent joint, the other shoe — or in this case, cane — drops in the form of Norman's elderly stepmother Solange (Kathryn Hunter, The Tragedy of Macbeth). After the death of her husband, Solange seeks refuge with her stepson and daughter-in-law, promising to sign all her money and possessions over to the couple if they let her live out her remaining days with them. This deal turns out to be harder and more disgusting than the couple imagines as the hunched, double-cane-toting Solange immediately aims her pee, poop, snot, and verbal barbs at Belinda. As the Eggers show it, a failing and withering body isn’t tragic, but terrifying and gross, as Solange uses her incontinence to make Belinda and Norman’s life hell. With a cragged appearance and a voice that’s admirably scratchy beyond belief, Solange’s arrival sets The Front Room into high gear, and her growing interest in Belinda and Norman’s unborn child imbues the plot with tension. 

To their credit, the Eggers keep things surprisingly straightforward with their story. Those expecting to see people go mad and supernatural forces reign supreme as they do in Robert Eggers' works will leave The Front Room disappointed. Instead, viewers can expect to see Brandy battling it out with a pissing, shitting, old racist in-law. In that case, when it comes to body humor, maybe the younger brothers do have something in common with their older sibling’s films.

Their tongue-in-cheek approach to the material results in a fun time. High points of the movie circle around Solange’s increasingly unhinged antics, which begin as petty criticisms towards Belinda’s cooking and racial asides before turning into intentionally pissed-and-shit-on beds. The Eggers’ script gives Hunter some nice regional vernacular to bite into, as well as some bizarre sayings to employ against Norwood and Burnap’s increasingly frazzled caretaker characters. Hunter embraces each of her character’s escalations, always employing a devilish grin that’s hilarious in its childishness and terrifying in its darker intentions. 

As the witnesses to Hunter’s gung-ho performance, it’s not surprising that Norwood and Burnap get the shorter end of the stick when it comes to their characters doing or saying anything super interesting. Both performers occupy characters built to react to Solange’s existence. Sure, the script gives them some tragic backgrounds and reasons for sticking with their confrontational houseguest, but these aspects feel undercooked in the Eggers’ script. 

There are pockets though,where each performer gets to work with something interesting. In one scene, Belinda finally gets an upper-hand on Solange's constant intentional mispronunciation of her name (pronouncing it as “Beh-lin-der”), with Norwood delivering an impassioned "Buh-lin-duh!" that's both funny and empowering. Burnap, meanwhile, is mostly saddled with the "well-meaning but aloof husband" archetype until a scene where his character turns into a scared little kid when he has to confront Solange one-on-one. Clad in only boxers and with his head down, Burnap plays this scene with an air of defeat that's comedic and unnerving as he bows to his overbearing stepmother. In these instances, you can see Norwood and Burnap’s talents, but the script they work with mostly pushes them to the side to make way for Hunter’s more bombastic role.

That’s not a bad thing, though. For one, Hunter delivers on every single nasty physical act and piece of dialogue thrown her way. As a whole, everyone in The Front Room seems to be in on the joke that the Eggers concoct. This understanding translates to behind-the-scenes talent, most notably in Marcelo Zarvos' score which plays like a batch of songs you'd hear on an album called "Spooky Office Halloween Party Sounds, Vol. 31." While noticeably silly, and even a bit retro sounding, Zarvos' music acts as an enjoyable reminder that The Front Room is trying to entertain you more than scare you. Production designer Mary Lena Colston piles onto the film’s fun house of horrors by crafting sets that are intentionally over-the-top in their gothic aesthetics. Even before Solange turns the couple’s house into an antique-strewn nightmare, Ava Berkofsky creates a starter home that’s already peeling, creaky, and cavernous. Why would a normal couple decide to raise their kid in a place like that? Who knows! Berkofsky and the Eggers want the place to look creepy, and they achieve it, character logic be damned.

The Front Room isn't here to break any new walls down in the horror genre. It covers what it says on the tin: Old people are gross, weird, and maybe a little evil. Max and Sam Eggers' film may not cement itself into many people's all-time horror lists like their big brother yet, but they do overtake him in showing off the grossness of pee and poop. Sometimes, that's all that’s needed for a fun time at the movies.

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