Slotherhouse premieres in theaters August 30.
Matthew Goodhue’s absurdly titled Slotherhouse has all the makings of another disappointing horror film that can’t deliver on its obscenely wackadoo concept. Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey went down like spoiled sweets. The Grinch's Christmas slasher debut The Mean One shined as bright as a lump of coal. But fear not! Slotherhouse is the real deal when it comes to post-Sharknado Mad Libs monster mash-ups.
Goodhue rearranges the sorority-slasher template of Black Christmas or The House on Sorority Row by dropping a murderous sloth into the mix, and pushes the premise as far as he can with surprising thoughtfulness. Writer Bradley Fowler creates not only a bonkers when-animals-attack midnight treat, but fleshes out a competent collegiate comedy that stands on its own merits. Syfy Originals with immaculate yet deceptive titles like Lavalantua have taught us to set our expectations lower than the ninth circle of Hell, but every rough has its diamond. Slotherhouse punches into its silliest gear and keeps us cackling like hyenas.
Lisa Ambalavanar stars as Emily Young, a Sigma Lambda Theta senior looking for an edge in the upcoming election for house president. She adopts an adorable sloth poached from her Panamanian habitat, who becomes an internet-famous sorority mascot – cue the looney animal hijinks. Slotherhouse doesn’t downplay the tongue-in-cheek hilarity of Emily’s plan: Montages show the slow-moving mammal dubbed “Alpha” becoming one of the gang through a game of dodgeball, poolside lounging, and other Greek life activities. Goodhue pushes well beyond rational storytelling, far enough that we can detach from pretense and accept that Slotherhouse is unadulterated cornball entertainment. Keep that in mind when Alpha starts offing sisters, posting pictures of their corpses on social media, and driving expensive sports cars like a three-toed Mario Andretti.
The ratio of comedy to horror is a lopsided 2:1 at best. Slotherhouse won’t be in contention for Best Horror Kill of the Year, nor will it paralyze viewers with fear – but that’s not the tone Goodhue aims for. There are shades of Fox’s Scream Queens or CW’s Riverdale as sorority stereotypes from “backstabbing queen bee” to “MMA tomboy” obliviously go about their Greek duties while their sisters mysteriously vanish. It’s an absurdly Hollywoodized vision that borders on generic, with giggling Thetas scampering around their gargantuan campus mansion. But it’s more frequently refreshingly and organically fun: The bubbly and sassy cast is able to lampoon sorority ecosystems through the exaggerated characters they play, allowing young women to headline a violent comedy scenario typically reserved for meathead frat bros.
As for horror elements, expect something on par with the PG-13 version of M3GAN (but with a sloth). Goodhue’s puppet tends to make its most lethal cuts just out of the frame. Blood squirts onto the camera’s lens or bedroom decor, but Slotherhouse smartly doesn’t force in-camera mutilation that’s outside the range of its modest budget. That’d be an ugly distraction without the proper funds, and Goodhue and Fowler instead focus on spoofing horror tropes found in animal-attack films or all-girls slashers, like Alpha’s menacing approach toward her first victim, which is illuminated by lightning strikes that demonstrate both how much closer she’s creeping and her hidden speed bursts. Alpha becomes a satirical slasher villain that operates like a Jason Voorhees or Chucky, and while the film’s body count doesn’t generate the goriest dielight reel, she achieves something of a M3GAN-meets-Grogu icon status.
Goodhue understands what horror fans want from a movie like Slotherhouse, including an emphasis on practical effects. Paddington might look more lifelike, but Alpha’s personality blossoms as puppeteers trigger a range of facial expressions or engage in her more feral attacks. When boozehound house mother Ms. Mayflower (Tiff Stevenson) dances around with Alpha on her shoulders, we can see what a blast Stevenson had on set. That’s because she was given something physical to interact with. Too often, a movie like Slotherhouse relies on garbage digital animation that wastes whatever pocket change producers collected from between the sofa cushions. Not here. Whether Alpha snaps a selfie or squares off with a katana, it’s like Muppets gone maniacal. That’s a great thing.
Slotherhouse is a complete package that doesn’t strictly appeal to the so-bad-its-good movie lovers. Mark David’s cinematography cleanly captures the pastel poshness of Sigma Lambda Theta while also leaning into frightening horror framing when Alpha stalks the hallways in the dead of night. The script incorporates heavy anti-poaching messages that denounce animal cruelty and the domestication of exotic creatures. There’s even an end credits song dedicated to Alpha, with lyrics about the dangers of chasing social media highs like the ones that influence Emily’s poor, attention-seeking decision. Goodhue isn’t trying to force a cult classic and/or cheap memeability – he’s genuinely trying to deliver the most amusing experience born from an eye-rolling pun, and the results are lightyears beyond the wordplaying competition.
