'The Front Room' Review: Brandy's Return to Horror Is Stolen

“Are you kidding me?” a character in “The Front Room” (played by singer-actress Brandy Norwood, making her return to horror cinema 26 years after “I Still Know What You Did Last Summer”) whispers to herself in disbelief. Her bemused reaction sums up the experience of watching the outrageous parade of bodily excrements and malevolent grins that make up the directorial debut of Max and Sam Eggers, working from a short story by English author Susan Hill. The twin filmmakers are half-brothers of Robert Eggers, a more notable name in genre cinema, responsible for “The Witch” and “The Lighthouse.” Yet there are hidden pleasures in this over-the-top, odd-toned project from the lesser-known Eggers brothers.

Belinda (Norwood) and her husband Norman (Andrew Burnap), a public defender, are in financial trouble after leaving his professorship due to discrimination and find themselves in a bind that seems to have a quick solution: after the death of Norman's father, his widow, the religious and scheming Solange (Kathryn Hunter), offers to give the couple everything her husband left behind. The condition? They must take her in so she can live with them until her last day.

Norman, who was raised in Solange's strictly Christian, racist home, warns Belinda that his stepmother would not approve of their interracial marriage. But with a baby on the way, one income, and a house in need of repair, they welcome Solange, a guest who will, over time, insidiously take over their space, their thoughts, and even the decisions they make as a couple.

Hunter’s character shows up at the funeral covered in a black veil and clutching two sturdy canes. The sound of those canes against the wooden floor of the house becomes a disconcerting motif. He moves with difficulty, as if awakening from a long sleep. But it is his high-pitched voice and Southern drawl that complete the facade of harmless, sweet benevolence that initially fools Belinda into trusting his intentions. To make matters worse, Solange believes she has a special connection to the Holy Spirit that manifests itself through speaking in tongues.

The terrifying premise of “The Front Room” doesn’t even come close to preparing you for what awaits you: laugh-out-loud one-liners, explosive farts, and moments of such darkly humorous absurdity that they’d have a more natural place in a raunchy teen comedy. Solange’s disgusting behavior as she torments her housemates is what the Eggers seem to be trying to convey. She seems to demand as much attention as a newborn baby turning her exaggerated illness into a weapon.

The wicked humor with which Hunter handles even the most grotesque scatological scenes fuels a disturbing yet stellar performance, far more memorable than the film as a whole. Hunter, a revered actor with a long career in theater and seen in recent films like “Poor Things” and Joel Coen’s “The Tragedy of Macbeth,” is a disruptive force. Meanwhile, Norwood’s wide-eyed reactions to the astonishing audacity of Solange’s antics serve as a potent stabilizing agent, leaving her in a perpetually justified state of shock. If “The Front Room” contains any surprises, it’s certainly in how far Solange is willing to take her disgusting attacks.

The Eggers ultimately undercut their concentrated dose of WTF midnight-movie fun by attempting to smuggle in a deeper commentary on race and the pervasive presence of the Judeo-Christian worldview in American society. The dreamlike mishmash of religious iconography and straightforward motherhood imagery that Belinda witnesses in ghostly visions reads as derivative and unoriginal. (Try instead the standout 2022 Mexican film “Huesera: The Bone Woman,” a supernatural thriller also dealing with the perils of first-time parenting, in which the metaphors are better integrated into the story’s fabric.)

A familiar resolution deflates the movie’s status up to that point as a wildly unpredictable piece of trashy wit. Despite the contrived third act, moviegoers can be expected to engage with “The Front Room” with audible gasps, one nauseating trick at a time.