Send Help
SEND HELP. In a rare moment of self-preservation, I chose not to see and review Melania, fun though it might have been to dunk on it as every critic not employed by or chasing the favor of the Trump administration has. Its pedigree makes all the statement it needs to, helmed by Brett Ratner, a repulsive mini-Weinstein with a half dozen sexual assault and misconduct allegations clinging to his loafers like toilet paper, and propped up by billionaire bootlicker Jeff Bezos (woe betide the writers covering Melania for his Washington Post). It is the glossy product of wealthy sexual predators and their enablers on behalf of wealthier, more powerful sexual predators and their wealthier, more powerful enablers. The lack of shame is the flex.
Ultimately, though, the thought of sitting in a theater and getting any of that ick on me to watch Melania Trump, a willing accomplice to the destruction of our country and the needless deaths of so many people, disassociate under a very stiff hat sounds like psychic torture. So, I leave Melania in its unopened box like a predictable version of Schrödinger’s cat, unseen but emitting the unmistakable odor of death.
On the same opening weekend, the dark, engrossing and weirdly cathartic Send Help, directed by horror legend Sam Raimi, seemed timed to fit my recent descent into reruns of Naked and Afraid. (I told you the moments of self-preservation were rare.) I will not say who in my family rage-baited me into watching episodes, only that together we have gleaned a mixed bag of lessons: Rolling the dice on the potability of water is not worth it; a woman could milk a grizzly and still not break a survival rating of 7; everyone needs to bend at the knees; and getting other people to work for you might be the highest scoring skill.
In Send Help, the laws of the corporate and literal jungles initially seem at odds, though we begin to see them overlap as the central pair of castaways bloom/devolve/reveal themselves. It has scenes as dark as a comedy can get in the full sun and surf of a tropical beach, and the tension builds steadily, venting steam with cartoonish visual gags and adversarial dialogue. While some of the third-act choices feel at odds with the characters as we’ve come to know them, it’s an entertaining psychological horror/adventure with equal parts gasp and guffaw.
Socially awkward Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) excels at her work in strategy and planning, as evidenced by how eager her slick coworker Donovan (Xavier Samuel) is to steal credit for it in front of the corporate bosses and bros. Her expectations of a promotion to vice president, shared only with her far less twitchy pet bird, are dashed when the CEO dies and is replaced by his spoiled, amoral and (surprise!) sexually predatory son Bradley (Dylan O’Brien). Bradley plans to give the VP title to his golfing buddy Donovan but still needs Linda’s expertise to close a deal in Thailand. So, he dangles the job and invites her on the overseas trip with his dapper douchebag flunkies, none of whom survive the extremely satisfying damage they take as the private jet crashes into the Pacific Ocean. As luck, strategy and planning would have it, Linda is a well-read and accomplished outdoorswoman, and a Survivor superfan. Only she and a badly injured Bradley wash up on shore, and, unsurprisingly, being a nepo-baby “room guy” doesn’t have the same cache in the wilds of Southeast Asia. The power dynamic shifts in favor of the one who is mobile, can gather rainwater, fish and make fire, but despite his dependence on Linda, who’s not as much of a pushover as she may seem in the office, Bradley is unwilling to relinquish his boss status. Their increasingly unhinged power struggle is layered onto the struggle to survive their surroundings as Linda blossoms in her element and Bradley schemes to get back to his.
McAdams is nearly a one-woman show as we watch her doff the dowdy camouflage of civilization, coming into her power, beauty and batshittery, leaning into cat-and-mouse dynamics with a clear enjoyment that makes one wonder what tilted power structures she had to navigate early in her career (and possibly still does). Therein lies the catharsis. (The gory hunting scenes were surely a good time on set with Raimi.)
O’Brien’s performance is flatter, though some of that may be down to how little there is to explore in the character of Bradley as written. Glimpses of his vulnerability are too insubstantial to make us or Linda care in any credible way. Devoid as he is of even superficial charm, I fear if we swapped him out with James Caan in Misery, we’d be rooting for Kathy Bates. It takes the legs out from our investment in him, which is at once a leavening agent for the comedy and a hollowing out of some interesting material. In his most powerless moments, the audience in the theater chuckled at Bradley’s peril, which is part of the fun of a Raimi movie — a bulging eye, a lurid spray of blood or comically timed vomit. Unlike Ratner, he’s got the gimlet eye and satirical smarts to wring some entertainment out of the bastards. R. 113M. BROADWAY, MINOR.
Jennifer Fumiko Cahill (she/her) is the managing editor at the Journal.Reach her at (707) 442-1400 ext. 106, or jennifer@northcoastjournal.com. Follow her on Bluesky @jfumikocahill.bsky.social.
NOW PLAYING
*Updated listings for Broadway Cinema were not available at press time.
28 YEARS LATER: THE BONE TEMPLE. Next leg of the journey for the post-apocalyptic zombie horror. R. 109M. BROADWAY.
AVATAR: FIRE AND ASH. Na’vi-on-Na’vi violence in the latest installment of James Cameron’s sci-fi action franchise. PG13. 195M. BROADWAY (3D).
CLIKA. A viral video takes a Mexican musician (Jay Dee) to the big-time. R. 82M. BROADWAY.
HAMNET. Agnes and William Shakespeare cope with the loss of their son in 16th century England. PG13. 126M. BROADWAY, MINOR.
THE HOUSEMAID. Amanda Seyfried and Sydney Sweeney in a thriller about weird dynamics with the help. R. 131M. BROADWAY.
IRON LUNG. Post-apocalyptic sci-fi submarine trip through a sea of blood. Co-written, directed and starring Mark Fischbach. R. 127M. BROADWAY.
LORD OF THE RINGS. Extended versions of the already very long Peter Jackson adaptations on the 25th anniversary. PG13. BROADWAY.
MARTY SUPREME. Timothée Chalamet plays a ping pong champ in the 1950s, when that kind of thing apparently got you laid. R. 150M. BROADWAY, MINOR.
MELANIA. Director Brett Ratner bounces back from rape and sexual misconduct allegations and a cameo in the Epstein files by directing a vanity doc about the first lady, who’s comfortable enough with sexual predators. PG. 104M. BROADWAY.
MERCY. Chris Pratt is on speed-trial for murder before an AI judge and I don’t know who to root against harder. PG13. 100M. BROADWAY.
MOSES THE BLACK. Hagiography meets gangster redemption starring Chukwudi Iwuji and Omar Epps. 110M. BROADWAY.
NO OTHER CHOICE. Park Chan-Wook directs Lee Byung-hun in a satirical psychological thriller about a man out to kill a business rival. R. 139M. MINOR.
PRIMATE. Vacation with friends turns to horror when the family chimp gets rabies and that’s why we don’t have pets with thumbs. R. 89M. BROADWAY.
RETURN TO SILENT HILL. A love letter draws a man to the killer ghost town. R. 106M. BROADWAY.
SEND HELP. Rachel McAdams goes feral as a mistreated employee stranded with her rotten boss (Dylan O’Brien). R. 113M. BROADWAY (3D), MINOR.
SHELTER. Jason Statham may have to keep his shirt in this action movie set in chilly Scotland, where a girl (Harriet Walter) must evade bad guys. R. 107M. BROADWAY.
ZOOTOPIA 2. Ginnifer Goodwin and Jason Bateman return to voice the rabbit and fox crimefighting duo in the animated comedy adventure. PG. 108M. BROADWAY.
For showtimes, visit catheaters.com and minortheatre.com.
This article appears in Arcata Rises Up for Fire Victims.