Addiction, Abuse….Antlers? An Antlers (2021) Movie Review
The long-delayed horror movie Antlers — based off of the short story “The Quiet Boy” — made its debut a couple weeks ago on October 29th, 2021. Originally slated for April, the movie experienced unforeseen delays and made my hunger for it almost Wendigo-like, reflecting the motivations of the main antagonist of the film. But after its official release, the reviews were abysmal for critics and movie-goers alike. I was left disappointed long before even stepping in a movie theatre but still felt compelled to satisfy my curiosity as the Wendigo is a rare subject matter to approach, with the two most recent examples being the 2015 video game “Until Dawn” and the 2019 reboot film “Pet Semetary” (although it may have only been hinted to at best; Stephen King’s original book makes this antagonist more clear).
What I ended up watching was a slow burn of a film that did not know what to do with its own themes of abuse, drug addiction, and trauma, all further wrapped up in the incompetence of the state and its welfare agencies to protect vulnerable children (although the latter point admittedly was a welcome critique). But more than that, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth about the central antagonist — the aforementioned Wendigo — and the treatment of indigenous cultures.
Now, this article will not provide a summary of the movie nor will it take on a self-righteous attitude to “defend” indigenous populations. But what it will do is address a few key pieces of the film that do not work within the universe itself, in regards to drug addiction and abuse, and also reflect a larger issue of how indigenous histories are shoe-horned into paranormal stories if the usual demonic possession and/or haunting vis-à-vis Christianity just doesn’t fit the cliché of the day.
As a disclaimer: I am not a trained media critic nor do I have a background in media and/or film studies. So, enjoy the ride as I take you through three main arguments that undermine the success of Antlers.
- The Teacher is a Karen
Early on in the movie, we are introduced to Lucas who cares for his possessed father and younger brother, bringing them dead animals and other tidbits of food every day after walking home from school. His teacher takes notice of his gaunt appearance, concerning art, and overall disengagement with her class and decides to find out more about what’s might be going on.
On one occasion, she ambushes Lucas on his way home and invites him into an ice cream parlor to talk about his family. Lucas is justifiably withdrawn and upset, leaving after her constant probing and telling her not to follow him any more. On another occasion, she goes through Lucas’ desk, without his permission, to look through his art and bring it to the Principle. From there she says this is a textbook case of abuse to which the Principle says that neither of them are trained to be sure of that, no matter how concerning the artwork is.
Now, at this point, you might find the title of ‘Karen’ is unjustified in this situation. She is a concerned teacher and while her methods might not be the best, her heart is in the right place because she just wants to help a student. Moreover, it is directly stated that both her and her police officer brother are victims of abuse at the hands of their father so it makes sense that both of them might be hyper-sensitive to anything that resembles their own experiences. However, this comes crashing down not too long after these events.
After taking Lucas to the hospital where he is diagnosed with severe mental trauma and malnutrition, the teacher once again tries to plan out what she can do to help him. Her brother stops her and tells her to stop making it about her and to instead rely on the support available for Lucas (i.e. Child Protective Services). She retorts with a series of abuses she has experienced from her father, daring her brother to dismiss her trauma. However, the brother simply tells her “You have no idea what he did to me.” Rather than sit in this revelation, the teacher storms off and this conflict is never mentioned again. The movie also encourages this silence by only showing flashbacks of her abuse and never hinting at what her bother may have experienced.
It was at this moment that everything clicked. Here, we have a woman who feels entitled to take matters into her own hands, gets police involved, and shut down anyone who gets in the way of her ‘righteous’ mission. While her reaction is steeped in trauma and a desire to right the wrongs someone else may be experiencing, she has no answer to her brother accusing her of making it about herself. Lucas’ well-being remains secondary because he is merely a prop, an outlet for her to retroactively save herself from her own father.
What we were so close to was a commentary on how the state fails abused and neglected children. So close..
Here, we have a woman who feels entitled to take matters into her own hands, gets police involved, and shut down anyone who gets in the way of her righteous mission
2. Victims of trauma and abuse are pegged as irredeemable
In the climax of the film, Lucas’ father-turned-Wendigo and the teacher have a final showdown that resembles the end of the 2007 horror B movie “Bone Eater.” The creature basically stands there, waiting to be taken out with a direct shot to the weak point — its heart. After the Wendigo is slain, the spirit migrates to Lucas’ younger brother and possesses him. If nothing is done soon, he will more than likely kill both Lucas and the teacher. She tells Lucas to look away as she stabs his brother through the heart right as antlers begin sprouting from his mouth. The spirit migrates no further and they are both safe. Eventually, the teacher and her brother adopt him to give him a better life.
At the beginning of the movie, the Wendigo is framed as something that possesses those who are weak and destitute, granting them with an insatiable hunger as they succumb to the spirit. In other words, those who are possessed are of weak and/or corrupted moral character — they cannot be redeemed, only killed lest they cause harm to others. This is an interesting framing given how the father at the beginning of the movie runs a meth lab while seeming to be an overall attentive father to his two kids. Now without seeing the movie, you could say 1) but the Wendigo passed over Lucas and 2) he is given a second chance by being adopted. Doesn’t that render this point moot regarding redemption? But like the first segment, the movie itself discredits this with its own dialogue.
As Lucas is playing around on the coast of a lake on the outskirts of the town, the teacher and her brother watch him. The brother makes a comment about her being sure about the whole adoption process, saying that raising him is like raising a tiger cub because you won’t know what you end up with. This point alone frames Lucas as someone with an innate, unchecked capacity for violence and may even require additional monitoring as he grows up to guarantee he doesn’t harm himself or others. Simply because of abuse? An even more pessimistic interpretation could be that he is being framed as a soon-to-be predator with the tiger comment.
An ironic moment must be pointed out that it is not Lucas who is the next vessel. Instead, the film closes with the officer/brother coughing up the distinguishable black fluid that indicates the beginning of the Wendigo’s possession. Whether this is because the brother is a cop or it is an insight into how much his own abuse broke him down is up to interpretation so have it at.
In other words, those who are possessed are of weak and/or corrupted moral character — they cannot be redeemed, only killed lest they cause harm to others.
3. The Wendigo has no relevant bearing on the story
As already explained, the Wendigo is a malevolent spirit that possesses those of weak moral character. It is hungry. It is powerful. It cannot be satiated. The relentless nature of this creature could be construed as an allegory for addiction, especially given the discussions of drug trafficking that pervade the first act, or abuse in how it ravages the body long after trauma has occurred. On a first look, this is pretty powerful stuff and opens the door for a unique manifestation and interpretation of the aforementioned trauma and addiction. However, that would only be the case if the Wendigo was consistently applied to the themes it represented and deftly navigated the consequences of its association criminalization — it does not. Even further, the Wendigo ends up becoming an indigenous prop of sorts to advance the narrative but have no real connections to the tribes that speak of it.
First, the father is never shown to be an actual addict or even an abuser, his addiction and rampant criminality are only discussed by cops in the movie. From what we actually see, he is a man who cooks and trafficks meth. But even alongside his drug dealings, he clearly cares for his children in the wake of their mother’s death and even locks himself away to prevent him from harming his boys after the possession. Moreover, he never actually hurts them after becoming the full Wendigo. Yes I know he killed a man right after being possessed but that’s the thing, it was after he was possessed. That murder has no bearing on his prior character as he, literally, becomes a shell of his former self. But even with these in-universe facts, we must rely on the police department’s account of his character because of his association with drugs. In other words, he was an addict that was literally demonized. People here don’t face psychological demons, they are psychological demons in the eyes of the state.
Second, the Wendigo is explained via an exposition dump from an indigenous man that occupies the town and was somewhat involved in identifying it as such once bodies started piling up. After he explains what the Wendigo is, he suddenly becomes irrelevant to the story and is no longer on screen for the remainder of the movie. The only role this man serves is to provide the connection to the ‘spooky’ totems and items dangling in the tunnel that led to the meth lab. Otherwise, the ‘Wendigo’ of this film has no connection to its indigenous roots. In fact, you could strip the dangling items from the tunnel and eradicate the indigenous connection entirely. However, exposition needed to be dumped somehow so what better way than an indigenous man whose sole personality trait is being an encyclopedia?
The shoe-horning of indigenous elements into horror is nothing new and recent work even points to how it reflects a certain view of the colonial imaginary. From old school movies dealing with the consequences of building upon ‘ancient Indian burial grounds’ to more contemporary films such as ‘IT: Chapter 2’ and even ‘Antlers,’ indigenous culture routinely occupies a space of mysticism that is so moldable it barely resembles the histories and cultures it is supposed to acknowledge in favor of an amorphous ‘Indian.’ Do we know the tribes in the area that this movie is taking place? Do we even know the tribe our exposition machine comes from? The answer is a resounding ‘NO.’
Conclusion
All in all, my disappointment with Antlers should not come as a shock at this point. It justifies self-righteousness of one character by centering her abuse and trauma rather than the child at the center of the movie. It renders people addicted to drugs and those who experience abuse as irredeemable, nay literal demons with no opportunity for healing and/or redemption. And finally, it further exhausts the tired trope of a blanket indigenous culture that can be shoe-horned into a horror movie for the purposes of exposition while not following through on the allegories their cultural elements are supposed to represent.
Antlers doesn’t just fail as a horror movie. It fails at its storytelling overall.
