Locked
Directed by David Yarovesky
Written by Michael Arlen Ross
Starring Anthony Hopkins and Bill Skarsgard
Rated R
Runtime: 1 hour and 35 minutes
In theaters March 21st

by Sasha Ravitch, Staff Writer

I was fortunate to attend an advanced screening of David Yarovesky’s new psychological thriller-meets-horror Locked in an auditorium full of the best kind of audience: engaged, joyful, and responsive. Having the benefit of this environment was a major advantage, as I would come to see that this film functions better as a call-and-response, something to comment and react to alongside fellow watchers, than it does as serious cinema.

Distributed by the Avenue and produced by inestimable horror icon and auteur, Sam Raimi, Locked stars beloved and established monster-performer Sir Anthony Hopkins and monster-performer ingénue Bill Skarsgard. Fresh off his Christmas-tide success as the abominable Count Orlok in Nosferatu, Locked showcases Skarsgard taking a turn playing the terrified hostage to a very old, very rich man’s grandiose masterplan. Gone are the mustache and fur coat, exchanged for stick n’ poke tattoos and exposed roots. Skarsgard’s character Eddie Barrish makes viewers wonder, “what if we gave one of Hollywood's most promising emerging talents the aesthetic of 2018’s freshly bleached-blonde Pete Davidson and the personality of a less confident Alien from Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers?”

Locked rides the coattails of another Christmas-time horror success, Heretic, where an elderly, intelligent, and relentlessly wealthy older man from the UK who fancies himself something of a philosopher-turned-vigilante is ready to unleash his wizened pontifications on the unlucky individuals who fall into his trap. While three quarters of the film relies on only Hopkins’ voice, his capacity to suffuse so much emotional range and affective texture into said voice makes the film more watchable. It is of massive credit to Skarsgard and his remarkable charisma and expressiveness that he carries this film nearly entirely on his own for the first two acts.

Locked’s “trap” and trap “creator” feel insulting to the memory of the Saw franchise and the premier dying-sadist Jigsaw, but the film could have been salvaged if not for the writing. Locked does not try to subtly inject nor even massage its socio-political position into the storyline. It’s so on-the-nose that it feels condescending to the viewer’s intelligence, with absolutely no regard for one’s capacity to read-between-the-lines. Indeed, the viewer begins to feel considerably more like Barrish as time progresses: lectured at by a person out of touch with the very people he’s subtextually advocating for. With shots which linger on unhoused folks and drug users in ways which feel sensationalist and exploitational, a series of moments throughout the screening left the audience shifting awkwardly in their seats. Furthermore, because these shots feel like the background of a soundcloud rapper’s music video, it further corroded any depth or felt-sense of advocacy for chronically marginalized and systemically neglected people.

This all being said, there were some truly enjoyable, even spectacular, moments pockmarked throughout a mostly mediocre film. Most of these exceptional moments, the moments which still linger strongly in my memory, are thanks to the mesmerizing acting by Hopkins and Skarsgard in the last quarter of the film. Hopkins, himself, is one of our finest living talents, and his performance sings for the climax, especially because he appears to genuinely be enjoying himself, truly reveling in the emotional volatility and grandiosity of his character. Similarly, Skarsgard does for us what he is becoming known for: performing with a sort of transcendent ghoulish intensity that balances with featherweight precision the grotesque and the seductive. His performance for the last quarter of this film will surely feed any buzz for future castings of the Joker, as he languishes with an immense and jaw-dropping devil-may-care madness. For a film which, in majority, is shot within a vehicle, the cinematography is effectively claustrophobic. You do often feel cramped up and squished beneath Skarsgard’s Barrish, which is a nice touch.

But, just as Barrish is desperately seeking a way off this ride, the viewer finds themselves seeking a way out of the theater. Locked is fine fare to watch at home, especially if you’ve got friends over and want something to chat throughout–pausing intermittently for the “water bottle scene”–or to revel in the joyride of the last quarter. There are scenes which almost justify its existence, but, by and large, it sinks beneath the weight of its own clumsy attempts at a message.

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