I SAW PRIMATE

Primate, a 2025 thriller directed by Johannes (47 Meters Down/Resident Evil: Welcome to Racoon City) Roberts, which he cowrote with Ernest (47 Meters Down: The Wreck) Riera, is in line with such epic, simian ventures as King Kong 1933 and Planet of the Apes 1968 (along with their various reduxes and counterparts). Primate is also in sync with Cujo, Crawl, Of Unknown Origin, Deadly Eyes, Willard, Ben, Tanya's Island, Murders in the Rue Morgue, Monkey Shines and Link. 

The story centers on a chimpanzee named Ben (enacted through puppetry, when not portrayed by the costumed Ben Torres Umba), who gets bitten by a rabid mongoose and then goes apeshit at a family's Hawaiian mansion. It's up to to the frantic humans to ward off the once tender simian, led throughout by Johnny (Dexter: New Blood) Sequoyah's distraught but durable Lucy. Troy Kostur, Gia Hunter, Benjamin Cheng, Jessica Alexander, Victoria Wyant, Charlie Mann, Tienne Simon and Rob (Bad Monkey) Delaney underscore the Zuni-doll-ish, jump-scare bracketing.   

The events get gory, too, but that's not what hurls Primate over the top. It's lean and mean (at a comfortable, ninety minutes) and precise in its untamed build-up. That means, it doesn't get into excessive contemplation or shove some unfounded, environmental message down the audience's throat. It's a matter of terrified people in a sequestered sector fighting for their lives, with viewers drawn in per potent, POV swings. (And for those who claim chimps aren't scary, what a bunch of bunk! Chimps can be powerful, frightful brutes and are never quite as reasonable as Cheeta, Chim-Chim or let's say, Cornelius or Caesar. Add rabies to the mix and well, there's even greater cause to watch one's back.) 

Though Primate is a relentless, no-nonsense, horror movie (with Adrian Johnston's Carpenter-bathed score and Stephen Murphy's shaded but succinct photography only sealing that deal), it could work as an effective allegory for those who choose to see it that way. We've all encountered situations where loved ones or friends have gone big-time sour, not to the point of conducting physical attacks, but just getting nasty enough to put one on defense. Primate projects, albeit through its many beastly blows, the utter discomfort that bleeds from such an agonizing turn. 

No matter how one cuts it (whether at face value or through insinuation), Primate is only a hop away from reality: i.e. the it-can-happen-to-you subgenre. That doesn't designate it on all fronts to Duel, Deliverance, Southern Comfort, Hunter's Blood, Sorcerer, Cry in the Wilderness, Dying Room Only or Breakdown, but like those noted, grounded nail-biters, it gnaws the same bone. 

I'm anxious to see this one again, if only to appreciate how its creators made it flow. Primate proves that one doesn't need a multi-layered, three-hour format to achieve white-knuckle glory. One only needs a solid, unpretentious idea, and the courage for it to fall into place.