I In my mind, I have a special place for a film that knows what it is. It's misleading and will be delivered accordingly in 90 minutes. Drop is a digitally native one-room thriller, as shown in the title and trailer. What happens if your phone is driven crazy by a mysterious airdrop meme telling you to kill your date, or when your family dies? This is a simple premise that anyone who receives unwanted penis photos on the subway is familiar to those who train author/director Christopher Landon with fresh and refreshing accuracy.
And one was elevated by two wellcast leads, Megan Fahe and Brandon Skillenner. Sklenar plays with a convincing performance of a lovely and understanding man who recently ended with us and has survived domestic abuse. Sweet and self-effective, he is more of a “sex” or “marriage” material than “killing.” But this is Fahy's film as Violet, a therapist for domestic violence survivors and a single mother from her five-year-old son. She's not a stranger to it. The film opens with scenes that can be assumed to be flash forward. A bloody, wounded Violet is slowly slurping around from her late husband, who swings a gun that sways his baggage.
A few years later, enough time, healing, when singles were handed over to not have a new dinner outfit, Violet finally braces for his first date with the app man. Photographer Henry, 32, lives in Chicago and looks friendly enough. Until the drop begins, Landon uses his iPhone wisely and naturally. Violet swipes through his profile for the pleasure of his sister Jen (Violet Bean), showing off a babysitter and cheerleader in the evening, a serious, goofy, familiar, unnatural blend. In-person in the flashy high-rise restaurant, Henry (Sklenar) is approachable and helpful in trying to help Violet identify the source of increasingly hostile “digidrops.”
However, after the demon emoji on her phone tells her to check her security cameras, if she can't poison her date first, she reveals a masked intruder at her home to kill her son, Violet is herself. Unfortunately, this renders as text-on-screen, rather than a glance at the phone itself. This is one of the great tragedy of modern cinemas because it doesn't look cheap and stupid and is my only ICK. But better suited to dating market millennials, director of Happy Death Day films and screenwriter for the 2007 Defair, Landon can make things clean, scary, unpredictable and distract you from the cornie font.
The needle skillfully drops the thread between the absurdities – this proves to be an extreme case of hero's syndrome, for reasons that really makes no sense. The stomach drop of the first date's prediction turns out to be a similar sensation to the jumpscare of ominous anonymous messages as the man is waiting for the door from the phone to walk. Landon gets plenty of mileage from Violet, scanning the room for a potential perpetrator, but only sees everyone illuminated by the screen of his hand. All screen cameras and portals, all messages will be visible, traced and there is no place to hide.
To my surprise, I would not say any more than that other than playing a game that Violet has been known to women for generations. She must keep Henry, vent his authenticity and explain his increasingly strange behavior, sending a message to the villain and planning a potential escape. It is often handled by any woman, and playing with Fahy's Aplomb ultimately found a talent-worthy role to get a glimpse into the invisible depths that appear in the second season of White Lotus. That drop requires some too-slip steps, but most of them land. It is proof of her character's command.
Her dial-in performance is appreciated for the comprehensive creativity of the procedure. It's a perfect match of enough prosperity, fun but unbearable stress, wasted time, stars, scripts, and style. For those who classify lean and flexibility in the thriller, drops are a date worth making.
