Thanksgiving (2023)

John Carver, the new face of American Horror

With Thanksgiving, director Eli Roth has succeeded in creating a slasher film that feels authentic to the early-80s "Slasher Cycle." Thanksgiving accomplishes this feat by refusing to fall victim to the endless subgenre metacommentary that has clogged up neo-slashers ranging from the 90s Scream films to Scream VI or even the recent trilogy of Halloween sequels. Instead, Thanksgiving recaptures the vibe of true ur-slashers—that is to say, the ones based on days of sinister significance (to borrow a phrase from Vera Dika) such as Friday the 13th (1980) and Halloween (1978). More than a few scenes in Thanksgiving legitimately feel like Halloween II, with a pinch of Graduation Day's fuzzy detachment thrown in for good measure. All told, Roth effectuates the feel of a go-nowhere town racked by murderous brutality. The whodunit elements are well-executed and compelling, as they benefit from a healthy helping of red herrings to keep audiences guessing. I screened this film in a half-full theater, and all the teeny-bopper couples in attendance spent much of the runtime incessantly whispering to their squeezes with speculations as to who the killer behind the John Carver mask would be. All that said, the film doesn't take itself too seriously. Rest assured, my associate and I laughed uproariously for both the abundant one-liners and the uncompromising kill sequences (though we were the only ones in the theater who saw comedy in the latter, apparently). In 2023, guffawing at a depiction of abject slaughter feels far more satisfying than snickering at some "meta" wisecrack—the murder-laugh is just more honest nowadays. The jokes and absurdity do not compromise the gravity of the horror, though, as the gore and body count are taken very seriously. Of course, some of the kill sequences aren't entirely new, as we got glimpses of them in the supposedly standalone trailer for Thanksgiving that Roth produced for inclusion in the middle of 2007's Grindhouse double-feature. If you've viewed that brilliant piece of schlock, then you know exactly what's coming when you see the trampoline appear in Thanksgiving's much glossier 2023 fleshing-out. And if I do have one lasting criticism of the feature-length Thanksgiving, it's how sleek the cinematography looks. It's a far cry from the stark, grainy footage in the 2007 trailer, thereby eschewing the unsettling straight-to-VHS aesthetic. Nevertheless, Thanksgiving is an otherwise bona fide New Testament for the slasher canon. Eli Roth has solidified himself as a doyen of contemporary horror, and he deserves a place alongside Jordan Peele as one of the preeminent scare-slingers of the 2020s. I just hope that, over the remainder of the decade, we'll get invited back to dinner for Thanksgiving 2 through 8. 

CODA (with mild spoiler alert):

One of my favorite parts of this movie is when the credits roll to "Where Eagles Dare" by the Misfits—that is, the genuine, Danzig-era Misfits. The leap from turkeys to eagles might be a bit of a stretch, but the throaty, bellowing strains of Glenn Danzig never hurt in the context of horror. In the end, the choice of song and band makes for a well-earned victory lap, as Thanksgiving rekindles the Slasher Cycle's legacy of brutality.