Tribeca Film Festival 2023: BAD THINGS

When Stewart Thorndike‘s Bad Things was announced that it would have its premiere at the 2023 Tribeca Film Festival, it was the image that caught my attention. A blond woman surrounded by bright light covered in blood. The contrast of the blood was enriched compared to the blonde hair it clung to and the image almost breathed to life the struggle of the woman it captured. Needless to say, Bad Things quickly shot up to the top of my must-see list.

And while it manages to churn up the tension and horror in its second half, Bad Things lives up to its title. It struggles to find its landing early on and create characters audiences can connect with. Yet, when the film diverts its attention from characters and connection, it sinks into the horror delivering chills that last beyond the credits.

Shaky Beginning

Bad Things opens on a vacant building, a young woman walking through the snow with a chainsaw in hand. For many horror fans, it would be the saw that has our immediate attention. Yet, instead, I found myself surprised by how bright the image was before me. There were no darkened corners or moving shadows basking its characters in ominous tension. Rather, Bad Things in its entirety leans into the light, speaking to the horrors that do not necessitate darkness.

As Ruthie (Gayle Rankin), her girlfriend Cal (Hari Nef) and her friends arrive at the hotel Ruthie has just inherited, Bad Things is careful to slowly trickle out the tidbits of their reasons for being there, as well as the history of the building. Thorndike is in no rush to give away the story to her audience, basking in the mystery she is committed to crafting. Yet, as the mystery of the hotel takes form, the chemistry between her cast refuses to thaw. There is an awkwardness that does become subdued as we learn more about Ruthie and her friends, its constant ruminating presence a horror to the film itself. These are supposed to be lovers and friends, ones who are alluded to have known each other for some time, yet feel as though they are strangers. And in a way they are, the realization that each person may not know the other as well as they think they do eventually muting the awkward chemistry presented.

Yet, it is not just the awkwardness in the chemistry that feels like a “bad thing”, but also its placement and usage in the film. Too often, the interactions between Ruthie and her friends feels like filler, leaving the first half of Bad Things to feel as though it is dragging its feet. It is in the first half that the film truly runs the risk of losing its audience, out high risk to the film’s stronger second half.

Horror Enriched

While Bad Things struggles with character and filler, it excels in its horror. From the moment Ruthie and her friends enter the hotel, it feels alive with unseen horror. As long hallways are captured, the camera holding as though it is expecting something to happen at any moment, viewers will want to will the hotel to come to life. And when it does, it is a meticulously calculated performance of horror.

With clear influences from The Shining and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Bad Things works to get under the skin of its audience, its heart-pumping score from composer Jason Falkner‘s pulsating an inescapable terror that builds with each note. Yet, the horror is not limited to what is on screen, but rather what isn’t – what Thorndike might be implying by the film’s end. Many times, you will find yourself questioning what is real and not.

Conclusion

Bad Things struggles with its interactions, yet excels in its horror. It’s a shame that much of the film’s struggles are in the first half threatening connection with its audience as it is a refreshing, albeit flawed, take on inclusion in horror. An LGBTQ horror, Bad Things expands the genre, welcoming new stories and narratives into the horrific fold – and that is far from a bad thing.

Bad Things premiered at the 2023 Tribeca Film Festival. 

Watch Bad Things