We're all in this
Here’s my rule of thumb: don’t trust a critically acclaimed horror debut. The perfectly adequate, perfectly overrated ones (hello, Barbarian) arrive far more often than true breakouts like The Witch. Michael Shanks’s Together, sadly, is Exhibit A. It’s not a disaster — it’s just a movie with a buzzy premise and some great posters that promises a bloody good time but barely delivers a pin prick.
The film opens with a search and rescue team hunting for some missing hikers. Two dogs slurp from a hidden cave pool and, later that night, fuse into a writhing tangle — a nasty image of intimacy turned hyper-literal and grisly. Cut to the new folks getting ready to move into town: Millie Wilson (Alison Brie) and Tim Brassington (Dave Franco), relocating from the city to the countryside as he grieves the death of his parents and she pushes forward and tries to pave a quiet but steady future as a couple. Shortly after their move, a mishap during a rainy hike drops them into the very same cave from the opening. Dehydrated Tim guzzles from the haunted pool of water. (Unrelated, but I can’t type “haunted pool” without thinking of Night Swim.)
Soon, his body becomes a flesh magnet of sorts. He develops a longing for Millie’s body that borders on hunger. It has sinister elements, but also horny ones, serving as an antidote to his chilliness towards her since his parents’ death. He starts to feel off-kilter whenever Millie isn’t around. Tim’s “episodes” yank him physically toward Millie, even if they’re miles apart. Meanwhile, a kind neighbor and new coworker to Millie, Jamie (Damon Herriman), offers comforting talk that suggests a nice-guy work husband crush on Millie. Jamie offers some lore on the town’s history with a new-age cult. The film’s first half is all setup and dribbles of anxiety, with a couple of gross gags. Shanks barely hides the movie’s themes: the alternating lust and loneliness of love, and how the tender comforts of steady romance can become a curse once complacency and resentment kick in.
But the film ultimately pulls its punches, rarely giving enough horror energy for the over-explicated thoughts in the script. Together has a handful of clever grace notes, but its ideas are even flatter than they seem. The metaphor of codependency as body horror is a good starting point, yet almost every beat is telegraphed early, so the tension isn’t “what happens?” but “how far will Shanks go?” And the film’s answer is: about 50% of the way. Where something like The Substance pushes imagery of its obvious ideas until it has surpassed its reasonable limit, and then one or two gruesome steps further, Together winces just as it gets going. Whether Shanks’ limit was budget or vision, I don’t know, but it turns away from (or rushes through) all of the gnarliest ideas of fusing flesh it suggests.
On a craft level, almost everything is at operating at replacement level. Shanks and his team clearly worked hard on the contortions and conjoinments, and it occasionally achieves its nauseating aspirations. The effects are achieved with an impressive and well-realized blend of prosthetics and CG. Everything besides the gore is routine; and horror that settles for “routine” has already failed. Other than a couple key moments, including the second-last scene (from which the most horrifying images of the posters and promotional material derive), the imagery settles for safe choices that keep the movie watchable but rarely memorable.
Brie and Franco, also producers of the film, are fine. I’ve cooled on Brie since her Community days, which perfectly cultivated her doe-eyed charm that could edge into unhinged territory. Franco’s hangdog demeanor generally works better in comedy. If nothing else, it’s always fun and fascinating to see a real-life married couple playing opposite each other and the subsequent energy and chemistry that emerge. But the characters of Millie and Tim are as generic as they come: She’s a patient schoolteacher who wants commitment; he’s an emotionally stunted musician who hasn’t given up his dreams of being a rock star. Brie and Franco do little to bring those sketches to the next level.
The film has one joke that properly lands: a climactic needle drop of “2 Become 1,” which pays off a setup line about Millie’s Spice Girls fandom from earlier in the script. It’s the movie’s best crossover between the obvious comedy chops of its leads and the horror pitch. I wish the rest of the movie leaned into this same silly-scary energy.
Together is not bad, just underwhelming. It’s a passable bit of gross-out provocation with a good hook, a few squirmy images, and some over-cooked thoughts on romantic codependency. But it’s also timid where it should be going for broke, neat where it should be messy, stern where it should be frisky. I’ve learned not to give up on hungry and ambitious directors; heck, my beloved Substance is the sophomore effort from a director whose grisly debut didn’t set my world on fire. Here’s hoping Shanks returns with sharper fangs and a stronger grasp of getting the story, scares, and laughs calibrated. For now, though, my fear of the hyped horror debut stands strong.
Is It Good?
Nearly Good (4/8)
Dan is the founder and head critic of The Goods. Follow Dan on Letterboxd. Join the Discord for updates and discussion.