If there’s one thing about movies I dislike more than seeing a bad one, it’s seeing a good one go awry. For most of “Mama,” I was thrilled to be watching a horror movie of substance. There were no Texas chainsaws, pale vampires, or paranormal activities; rather, two women struggled with the burdens of being a mother. That one of them was dead was beside the point. Here was a scary movie about something! And then...
Before I discuss the “and then,” let me write about what I liked, beginning with the story. As “Mama” opens, the economy has collapsed, winding the coils within a troubled man one twist too many. He snaps, kills his business partners and estranged wife, grabs their two children, and heads for the hills. Circumstances bring them to a cabin in the woods, where he tearfully points a gun at his oldest daughter, Victoria.
Before he pulls the trigger, a chest-rattling boom announces the arrival of a shadow, which swallows him whole. That evening, Victoria and her one-year-old sister, Lilly, are sitting near the embers of a fire, and from the darkness that has gathered at the edge of the dim illumination, a gnarled hand emerges and rolls a cherry toward them.
Flash forward a few years. Lucas, the girls’ uncle, is still looking for them. He’s also living with Annabel, a bundle of contradictions. She plays bass in a rock band, wears sleeveless shirts that flaunt her tattoos, and swigs bottled beer with a practiced scowl on her face. She loves her man, though, and is willing to forgive many things, including him spending all of their money searching for Victoria and Lilly.
When Lucas finds the girls alive but feral, he beckons for Annabel to join him on the journey of parenthood. She agrees, but not without scowling.
Jessica Chastain’s performance as Annabel is one of the best parts of “Mama.” I like how she brusquely tucks in Victoria at bedtime and then leaves the room with a curt “Go to sleep!” And I like how her instincts as a caregiver bubble naturally to the surface as she gradually connects with Victoria.
Annabel and Lilly never form a connection because Lilly has known only Mama and Victoria. She screams when touched, refuses to eat anything but cherries, and frequently appears to be in contact with an unseen presence.
Even though writer and director Andrés Muschietti reveals Mama in bits and pieces - a gnarled hand here, a ghoulish eye there - we know who Lilly sees. And we get just enough back-story on Mama to make us feel slightly sorry for her. She squanders our good will, however, by picking off those who stand between her and the girls.
“Mama” is at its best before the big revelation, when we see only those bits and pieces of the antagonist. Muschietti stages some clever shots, including one involving a game of tug of war with a blanket that did not turn out as I was expecting. He also establishes an eerie ambiance, despite wavering between gothic and J-horror overtones. And while he relies too heavily on loud noises and surprises to scare viewers, strong character work holds the movie together.
And then...
And then Muschietti brings Mama out of the shadows, and things get silly. I spent most of the movie looking forward to the moment when Mama reveals herself to Annabel, and while the look on Chastain’s face is priceless, it’s the last pleasure “Mama” offers. From that point on, characters either make massive leaps of logic to push the story forward, or inexplicably act on foolish impulses. When the dueling mothers fight to the death at the edge of a cliff, “Mama” leaves the tracks completely.
“Mama” has some good ideas. I’m still chewing on the fact that neither mother was a biological parent of the girls. What does that say about maternal instincts? Also, there’s enough quality material along the way to warrant a recommendation. But the ending... Dang.
Rated PG-13 for violence and terror. Two-and-a-half stars out of four.