Every cinephile should be grateful this January, as it signals the arrival of a Sam Raimi-genre flick to movie theaters. While it’s only been a few years since Raimi’s previous film, Send Help represented something exciting beyond the mere fact of a new entry into his stacked filmography. It signaled the potential return for his uninhibited style of genre filmmaking paired with an original script. To think it’s been nearly 2 decades since Drag Me to Hell is maddening to say the least. So at face value alone, the prospect of Send Help should be more than enough to get audiences through the doors. But as an added bonus, the film functions as a two-hander for two of the most wonderful actors in Hollywood. The result is an oft-entertaining chamber piece of sorts, designed to thrill its audience through fits of laughter, wincing, and perhaps even shouting, at the visual madness Raimi cooks up alongside screenwriting duo Damian Shannon and Mark Swift.
There are countless examples throughout Raimi’s filmography of characters getting their comeuppance, being forced through the wringer and back by external factors, or merely trying to balance their lives amongst the chaos of the world at large. Just take one look at how Raimi lovingly treats longtime friend Bruce Campbell in the Evil Dead franchise, or the lengths to which he tortures the central character of Drag Me to Hell. It’s rarely ever malicious, but there are so few filmmakers who clearly revel in the opportunity to torment the cinematic figures at their disposal. Yet he’s also a filmmaker who has an innate understanding between right and wrong. It’s these key sensibilities found throughout Raimi’s career which make Shannon and Swift’s clever script the perfect material to play with.
Send Help immediately positions itself as a tongue-in-cheek genre film. Shot by the great Bill Pope (a frequent collaborator of Raimi’s), the film welcomes its audience to the theater through a series of absurdly exaggerated close-ups. It’s practically never used again at any point during Send Help, but it is indicative of an essential element to make note of when watching a Raimi film. Oftentimes, the stylistic choice made is the one best suited to the particular moment in question. Raimi obviously has a house-style, but part of what makes his directing so beloved and unique is how willing he, and the team of collaborators around him, are willing to fully commit to delivering a visual gag or series of ideas in a deeply specific manner. In that regard, Send Help again delivers the wonderful visual fun we have come to expect from a Raimi film. But that style also unfortunately falls victim to the ongoing dilemma plaguing a fair amount of contemporary Hollywood filmmaking. The larger moments of gleefully-directed chaos and violence are bathed in the sludgy digital look that immediately brings a film down a notch. It’s disheartening, but at the very least, it’s largely self-contained to less than a handful of key setpieces. There’s still plenty of classic Raimi tricks that remain as timeless as ever. And importantly, Send Help is a film which ultimately rests on the performers at its center.
Aside from the initial premise and genre leanings of Send Help, much of the audience buy-in rests on how we feel about the characters placed into the circumstances at hand. And when it comes to Linda Liddle (the always-wonderful Rachel McAdams) and Bradley Preston (a perfectly-utilized Dylan O’Brien), the audience will instantly feel everything the film requires of them. Both McAdams and O’Brien have such distinct, charming personalities that extend far beyond the big screen. So it’s a wonderful bit of casting against expectations to have the bubbly McAdams play a downtrodden, overly dedicated corporate employee while flipping O’Brien’s innate charisma into a deeply annoying manchild full of downright cruel behaviors and mannerisms as a new CEO. As the two personalities clash against one another on the island they end up marooned upon, the personality quirks of their characters are played up tenfold. It’s all part of the heightened extravagance Send Help excels at. McAdams only becomes more radiant as she becomes more comfortable on the island. O’Brien attempts to turn his charm up to the max while also being unable to rid himself of the character’s inherently sniveling nature. One particularly excellent character choice that repeatedly rears its head is his nasally, overtly exaggerated laugh that would feel at home in Looney Tunes. Raimi’s penchant for allowing his actors to imbue whatever quirks they choose into a character works wonders here. But he’s also a deeply sincere filmmaker. When coupled with a key sequence in Shannon and Swift’s script, the film works wonders as a chamber drama beyond its genre tendencies.
Send Help is a film which repeatedly leans into its gross-out humor through blood, vomit, snot and various bodily fluids. Despite that, it also shockingly provides a fair amount of space for these characters to feel fleshed out. That the exaggerated nature of Raimi’s flourishes (may they never change) can exist alongside such quiet moments of raw humanity speak to a few things. Firstly, in the capable hands of both McAdams and O’Brien, these characters become more than pure fodder for genre entertainment. Secondly, it allows for simultaneous truths and intentions of the script to appear evident. These impossible circumstances have brought out the true nature of these characters. But it has also allowed them to evolve and shift into something different. The differences are best experienced in real time on the big screen, but Send Help is without a doubt a bloody good time at the movies. And when it comes to Raimi, you know there’s an emphasis behind every single element of that statement.