If you're looking for suspense, the first half hour of The Strangers delivers. A couple at their isolated home hears a knock on their door. The girl on the other side asks for someone who doesn't exist, then disappears into the night. Already unsettling. What happens when the knocking continues? When you start to see lonely figures out the window staring back at you, standing in wait? What are they waiting for?
Then the second act happens. A lot of poor decisions, predictable obstacles, hiding in closets and lights going out, that kind of thing. It doesn't feel quite so terrifying because it's familiar, if only from other horror movies.
The ending, though. The Strangers tie the victims to chairs. A ritual group unmasking. If they no longer feel the need to hide, you're not going to survive the visit. The inevitable stabbing is slow, almost clumsy, in stark contrast to the lightning-quick reflexes evidenced by the Strangers in previous scenes. Even though the camera doesn't quite let us see their faces, we know now that the Strangers are not supernatural boogeymen. They're just people. Ordinary, boring people, who decided one day to try murder. As though it's simply a hobby one picks up of an afternoon. They're not interesting enough to be evil. Now that the adrenaline rush of the chase is over, they may not even be certain they want to do this. But there's no going back; they've already crossed a line.
As they pull away from the scene of the crime, a couple of Mormon boys going door to door ride past on bicycles. The Strangers stop. "Can I have one?" asks the blonde girl, indicating their pamphlets.
"Are you a sinner?" asks the boy.
The dialogue is a bit on the nose. But it takes the blonde girl a long time to consider. "Sometimes," she decides.
She gets back into the car. The girl with black hair says, reassuringly, "It'll be easier next time."
They ride off in their truck. Back to their banal lives, wearing masks of normalcy as they plan their next endeavor. No one said that it would be BETTER next time; only EASIER. As though this is something they are compelled to do, an obligation. A task to master for its own sake. They don't seem any happier than the victims they're leaving behind.
Why are they doing this, asks the female they're tormenting? "Because you were home." Not "Because you deserve it" or even "Because we enjoy it". It's bleak, a self-perpetuating cycle of violence that doesn't even grant the perpetrators a sense of fulfillment. Just emptiness and confusion. Maybe they can't answer the question of "why" because they themselves don't have an answer.
Then the second act happens. A lot of poor decisions, predictable obstacles, hiding in closets and lights going out, that kind of thing. It doesn't feel quite so terrifying because it's familiar, if only from other horror movies.
The ending, though. The Strangers tie the victims to chairs. A ritual group unmasking. If they no longer feel the need to hide, you're not going to survive the visit. The inevitable stabbing is slow, almost clumsy, in stark contrast to the lightning-quick reflexes evidenced by the Strangers in previous scenes. Even though the camera doesn't quite let us see their faces, we know now that the Strangers are not supernatural boogeymen. They're just people. Ordinary, boring people, who decided one day to try murder. As though it's simply a hobby one picks up of an afternoon. They're not interesting enough to be evil. Now that the adrenaline rush of the chase is over, they may not even be certain they want to do this. But there's no going back; they've already crossed a line.
As they pull away from the scene of the crime, a couple of Mormon boys going door to door ride past on bicycles. The Strangers stop. "Can I have one?" asks the blonde girl, indicating their pamphlets.
"Are you a sinner?" asks the boy.
The dialogue is a bit on the nose. But it takes the blonde girl a long time to consider. "Sometimes," she decides.
She gets back into the car. The girl with black hair says, reassuringly, "It'll be easier next time."
They ride off in their truck. Back to their banal lives, wearing masks of normalcy as they plan their next endeavor. No one said that it would be BETTER next time; only EASIER. As though this is something they are compelled to do, an obligation. A task to master for its own sake. They don't seem any happier than the victims they're leaving behind.
Why are they doing this, asks the female they're tormenting? "Because you were home." Not "Because you deserve it" or even "Because we enjoy it". It's bleak, a self-perpetuating cycle of violence that doesn't even grant the perpetrators a sense of fulfillment. Just emptiness and confusion. Maybe they can't answer the question of "why" because they themselves don't have an answer.