Imagine this: Rohan (Nik Dodani) and Josh (Brandon Flynn) are young lovebirds, brimming with optimism, who invite their parents to a country house rental for what they mistakenly believe will be a peaceful weekend of family bonding. It’s a foolish notion. Unbeknownst to them, a malevolent 400-year-old entity lurks within the creaking floorboards and ominously flickering lamps. Like your least favorite in-law, this entity is uninvited, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore. What starts as typical dinner-table banter—“Pass the salt”—quickly escalates to “Pass me therapy” as the atmosphere shifts into chaos. The supernatural force clarifies its presence, and screams mix with scathing one-liners as the group desperately fights for survival. This battle isn’t just against each other’s grudges; it’s a literal confrontation with ghosts.
Enter Parker Posey and Vivian Bang as Brenda and Sara, Rohan’s bohemian artist parents, perfectly capturing the gothic duality of frivolity intertwined with profound depths. Posey, the reigning queen of quirky chaos, brings an irresistible irreverence to Brenda, while Bang delivers a striking sincerity during Sara’s more subdued moments. Adding to this dynamic is Lisa Kudrow’s neurotic Aunt Liddy, who expertly serves as the vital source of comic relief. Meanwhile, Dean Norris’s gruff Cliff exemplifies the quintessential uncle, steadfastly manning the BBQ even amidst a hurricane. Together, this ensemble forms a dysfunctional Greek chorus rich in exasperation, fear, and an undeniable, begrudging affection that resonates powerfully.
Ah, the entity itself! This isn’t Casper the Friendly Ghost or the scream-inducing specters of *The Conjuring.* This 400-year-old wraith is both a metaphor and a menace, a stark reminder of the inherited grudges and unspoken traumas that plague every family. Director Craig Johnson boldly juxtaposes the spectral with the mundane, infusing the film with a wry undercurrent: the characters confront otherworldly evil with the same exasperation one might reserve for a malfunctioning dishwasher. The manifestations are both chilling and absurd—a possessed chandelier here, an accusatory whisper in the pantry there. “Even the undead criticize my cooking,” quips Kudrow’s Liddy at one point, ensuring that amidst the chaos of the supernatural, the humor remains razor-sharp.
The film boldly embraces an eerie elegance that captivates the senses. Shadows creep along walls like spectral fingers, and the creaks and groans of the old house reveal unspeakable secrets. The score, a striking blend of harpsichord and otherworldly whispers, masterfully balances whimsy and dread. However, the film’s most impressive feature is its tonal dexterity. Johnson expertly navigates between familial squabbles that resonate with authenticity and supernatural horror that flirts with camp. It commands attention as a ghost story with a smirk and a family drama that takes a haunting twist.
“The Parenting” is a darkly comedic delight that unapologetically embraces its gothic absurdity, delivering genuine laughs alongside a few spine-tingling moments. The chemistry among the cast is electrifying, and their performances are infused with both wit and deep emotional resonance. By the end, while the ancient evil may be vanquished, the absolute horror lies in how relentlessly it compels the characters and the audience to confront their humanity. You must attend This cinematic séance, with laughter and terror expertly balanced. Don’t miss it on Max—if you have the courage—cue ominous thunderclap.
Grade: B+.
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