There’s truly something magical about watching an artist not give a fuck while simultaneously giving all the fucks in the world. Such is the case with James Wan’s Malignant, which feels revelatory in its methodical mastery of throwing whatever it can against the wall and seeing what sticks. Here is a work of shlocky horror and procedural mystery that riffs on giallo tropes, uber-violent grindhouse exploitation, Cronenbergian body horror, the madcap ferocity of Sam Raimi, the psychological penetration of Roman Polanski and so many other influences while still remaining 110% James Wan. Its bold confidence is astounding and its lyrical looseness admirable as the director follows up a chain of studio tentpoles (Furious 7, The Conjuring 2 and Aquaman) with what is arguably his most innovative and inspired work to date.
Malignant immediately hits the ground running with a wacky opening that transitions into an equally over-the-top credits sequence, amplified by the instrumental abundance of Wan’s frequent collaborator, composer Joseph Bishara (the score, at times, melodically alludes to The Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind?”, a fitting nuance). From here, we’re introduced to protagonist Madison (Annabelle Wallis), a pregnant woman in a loveless, abusive marriage whose world is turned upside down when she begins having hyper-realistic visions of murder, beginning with her own husband. The mystery grows as Madison, along with her sister Sydney (Maddie Hasson) and detectives Kekoa Shaw (George Young) and Regina Moss (Michole Briana White), seeks to uncover the reasons for these visions and the sinister force behind them—an entity known only as “Gabriel” who has a shadowy connection to Madison’s past.
For the first hour or so, Wan plays heavily on the Giallo and grindhouse influences, crafting kills that are grisly and gratuitous in ways that he hasn’t quite exhibited since his breakout, franchise-launching hit, Saw. For fans of over-the-top gore from their horror films, Malignant rarely disappoints, and it mirrors this strength in these murder scenes’ overall construction, as they balance thrills, chills and comedic beats in equal measure. The film never takes itself too seriously, seizing constant opportunities to play up the levels of its camp, from exaggerated digital zooms during dramatic lines to the orchestral needle drops that accompany them. And when we finally arrive at the third act, Malignant reaches a level of narrative absurdity that unapologetically fires on all cylinders, swiveling from delightfully dizzying De Palma-esque reveals to riotous action sequences, including one set in a prison cell that is truly a marvel to behold.
Despite plenty of tonal shifts, corny dialogue and overbearing moments, Malignant is a masterfully messy motion picture that is easy to admire, warts and all. It’s also easy to despise depending on your mood and tastes, as its genre influences and wildly freeform execution is guaranteed to irk many viewers for plenty of individual reasons. But for the right palette, Malignant is a five-course feast, serving up one satisfying indulgence after another. And even after you’ve had your fill, it brings you dessert.
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