By GABE THOMAS
There is perhaps no storytelling tool more easily understood than set-up and pay-off. Any good comedian will tell you the same thing. You spend all this time putting ideas into your audience’s heads, only to knock them off their feet when they least expect it. It’s deceptively simple but gives your target a feeling of cleverness for remembering all that went into the joke mere moments before the punchline.
This strategy is understood in action sequences and the ultra-precise realm of comedy, but what does it mean when it’s used to instill dread in an onscreen romance? Only the most skilled filmmakers can take the universally understood language of love and use it to attack their audience’s emotions.
It is in this arena that Fear Street director Leigh Janiak’s debut HONEYMOON shines. This underseen and wholly underappreciated film from the spring of 2014 follows newlywed couple Bea (Rose Leslie) and Paul (Harry Treadaway) on their honeymoon to Bea’s family cabin, where a mysterious occurrence in the woods tears them apart.
Janiak creates a suffocating atmosphere of tenderness and love in a first act almost too intimate to watch – only to confirm our worst fears for these beautiful people throughout the impossibly harrowing hour that follows. A biting observation of how we study the people we are closest to, HONEYMOON hinges on deeply layered performances from its two leads.
The film wastes no time bringing us into their relationship with confessional videos of Bea and Paul that establish vital information about the milestones they’ve experienced, whether it’s the details of their first date or how Paul proposed.
Rose Leslie, who viewers may recognize from her appearances on the early seasons of Game of Thrones or her turn in 2015’s Morgan, infuses Bea with infectiously likable energy, reminiscent of some of Emma Stone’s early roles. Similarly charming is Harry Treadaway (Penny Dreadful), who gives Paul a well-defined sense of humor coupled with intense sadness once his new marriage is put in jeopardy.
When the couple first arrives at the cabin, their chemistry emerges immediately. The saccharine haze afforded to the early minutes of the movie may strike some as too sappy and sentimental, but Paul and Bea have no problem lampshading this once they’re behind closed doors. They are young and in love, but they are also sensible people, and the screenplay written by Janiak and Phil Graziadei establishes the truth of their characters quickly.
After Paul discovers a disoriented Bea naked in the woods one night, she becomes increasingly distant. This feeds into his suspicions about what really happened to her, worsened by the arrival of Will (Ben Huber), her childhood sweetheart.
Bea’s behavior becomes irrational. She forgets the names of everyday items. Paul tries to convince her to see a doctor after unexplained rashes appear on her legs. He notices Bea also keeps mysterious writings in spiral notebooks and intently studies their wedding videos. These are our most important clues to the twist quickly approaching.
Paul storms out of the cabin and makes a terrible discovery after encountering Will’s wife Annie (Hanna Brown), who has the same marks as Bea. Soon, he realizes she killed her husband. He finds pages from Annie’s notebooks. They contain her personal information, like her name and address, scrawled out as if they were notes for a test.
Back at the cabin, an irate Paul quizzes Bea about who she is. She tries hard to remember the details of her life, including Paul’s name. She locks herself in the bathroom, where Paul finds her stabbing at her genitals with a dull blade.
He slams her against the wall and ties her to the bed. All hope drains from Paul’s face when she can’t remember their first date or how he proposed. At this point, he knows Bea is gone – and so do we. In a last-ditch effort, he intimately touches her. He pulls what looks to be some sort of umbilical cord-like worm from her vagina. It writhes around on the bed after removal. It’s the film’s only real moment of gore and a stomach-churning instance of body horror,
In a devastating final reveal, Bea tells Paul what truly happened in the woods. It’s aliens. She was unwillingly impregnated by a group of extraterrestrial beings. They left a piece of themselves inside of her, and it is slowly eating away her memories.
She tells Paul they are coming back for her and she wants nothing more than to spend these final days on Earth with him – no matter the cost. Bea becomes frantic and tells Paul the only way out is for her to hide him. She knocks him out and when he wakes up, they are on a boat. She has tied an anchor to his legs, and not understanding basic human concepts anymore, says she is going to hide him under the water where he’ll be safe. Paul tries to explain to her that he won’t be able to breathe, but Bea goes through with it and drowns him.
HONEYMOON starts with such romantic highs that the sharp turns into unflinching horror aren’t only shocking, they’re heartbreaking. Classics of the genre like Halloween and The Shining leave us constantly asking why bad things happen to good people, especially when they follow what are perceived as “the rules” for staying alive. Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) and Wendy Torrance (Shelley Duvall) never indulge in selfishness or dishonesty, yet they are constantly torn down for their efforts. The same is true for Paul and Bea.
While we feel a certain sympathy, the true catharsis comes from suffering that ends at the screen – even if sometimes we take it home with us. Everyone has struggles, and watching somebody facing unfathomable horrors for 90 minutes can be a morbid way to alleviate tension. Still, there is a difference between watching some poor teenager try desperately to defend themself from a deranged killer and young lovers learning to hate and mistrust each other. It’s too real, and it happens to too many of us.
We are terrified of being alone, even though some of us feel it’s the only way to truly embrace our inner selves. It has been said that, while everyone wants to be alone sometimes, nobody ever wants to feel alone. HONEYMOON doesn’t care what you want. You are left empty-handed with a heavier heart than when you pressed “play.”
So I guess it’s time to reveal the payoff for the earlier setup about setups. (Complicated, isn’t it?) There are many instances of Paul being apprehensive of the lake in which he meets his fate. Signs of approaching horror are found hiding in plain sight. One haunting moment begins as an eye-rolling gag and ends as a crushing confirmation that Bea’s mind has failed her. Throughout the movie, Paul says “I love you, honeybee,” to which Bea always responds by buzzing. Later, when she fails to reciprocate, the absence of the private romantic gesture stands out. Something is wrong.
Although the topics of pregnancy and rape are sensitive, they are vital to the plot and any dissection of this picture would be lost without mentioning them. Themes of pregnancy begin early on with the discussion the couple has about Bea’s hesitancy to have children. This is echoed when she “gives birth” to a rather phallic creature towards the film’s end.
Bea and Annie share deep bruises on their thighs that they try to cover up. It’s heavily inferred that Paul thinks Will sexually assaulted Bea in the forest, an idea expounded upon with her fragmented memories of the event. Sex is initially an exciting part of their honeymoon, but Bea shies away from intimacy with Paul after she’s assaulted. It’s harsh stuff, but it only intensifies the threat the film is built around.
Rich with subtext, HONEYMOON has been unfairly overlooked and wholly underappreciated. If you liked Fear Street, or if you enjoy films like Midsommar or even Don’t Look Now, you’ll discover something brilliant and terrifying in these uncharted waters.
