Creep is billed as a horror comedy built around a premise familiar to both filmgoers and news junkies—an average Joe answers a Craigslist ad and winds up in the company of somebody who seems a little bit off. The comedy half of the film’s genre billing made me expect a shred of originality and even subversive commentary that simply wasn’t there. Indeed, there isn’t really much of anything in Creep.

Co-writers Patrick Brice and Mark Duplass star in the 75 minute film as the hapless cameraman Aaron and the unsettlingly intense man on the other end of the Craiglist ad Josef, respectively. Desperate for cash, Aaron drives to Josef’s cabin in northern California for the unknown assignment. If Josef is to be believed—and he isn’t—he’s simply making a movie to be shown to his unborn son after he soon dies of cancer.

The writers describe the film as a pure character study of the men in front of and behind the camera, as it’s subtly implied that Aaron is none too well either. Brice doesn’t do much in the way of acting. Duplass, however, shows off some impressive acting chops here just as he did in last year’s The One I Love, playing an enigmatic character with a penchant for professing love to this stranger and revealing unsettling so-called truths about himself and his past. Unfortunately, he also has a nasty penchant for jump scares. It seems as though Brice, who also directs, thought viewers would be bored with the slow first half without such obnoxious “BOO!” moments.

The attempts at drawing a complex psychological portrait gives way to typical Hollywood pop-psych and lazy horror movie conclusion.

 

In spite of these moments, it’s the first half of Creep that really shines as a slow-burning, claustrophobic character piece, wherein Aaron suffers through a series of revealing, creepy scenes of filmmaking and bonding at Josef’s insistence. Notable examples include a lengthy, intimate ‘tubby time’ ritual and the discovery of a monstrous Halloween wolf mask called ‘Peachfuzz.’

Brice manages to keep the tension mounting, so the innocuous beginning seems to build towards a climactic second half that never comes. Instead, Brice undercuts one of the film’s most tense moments by leaving it to the viewer’s imagination—a wise move on some occasions, but a lousy copout here—and flashes forward to another location. Admittedly, I always love a film confined to a single day or location, but the move was especially misguided here.

The claustrophobia disappears, and with it so does any immediate sense of danger. Instead, Josef becomes a monster lurking in the shadows outside Aaron’s home instead of the fascinating enigma initially presented. One scene, wherein Aaron investigates his home and front yard in search of an intruder, is so wholly unoriginal another lazy jump scare would have been preferable.

The opportunity seems especially squandered since, given the first half, it looks as though Brice and Duplass might do something original with the found footage genre. Instead, they succumb to cliché despite their efforts to subvert it, which come across as misguided rather than smart. Duplass, the titular creep, often manages a tricky balancing act between overly-friendly family man and mysterious stalker. We understand how Aaron might be lulled into a feeling of safety by his character, just as we can see the early signs of his sinister intent through his prolonged eye contact, manic decisions and strange, dark sense of humor.

It all comes to nothing however, and the attempts at drawing a complex psychological portrait gives way to typical Hollywood pop-psych and lazy horror movie conclusion. The film both adheres to some of the most tired horror tropes while jettisoning others it would do well to hang onto. The result is an occasionally fascinating, occasionally maddening glorified student film that constantly undermines its own tension. Maybe it’s trying to make a statement or provoke a few laughs. In either capacity, it fails. In most capacities, in fact, Creep simply fails.

Creep is now available to stream on Netflix.

Jeff Rindskopf

Jeff Rindskopf is a contributing writer for CINEMACY.