A Monster Calls
Directed by J. A. Bayona
Produced by Belén Atienza, Mitch Horwits, Jonathan King
Screenplay by Patrick Ness
Based on A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness
from an idea by Siobhan Dowd
Starring
Lewis MacDougall as Conor O’Malley
Max Golds as 5-year-old Conor
Liam Neeson as the “Monster” (voice and motion capture), a giant humanoid yew tree.
Neeson also appears uncredited in a photograph as Connor’s grandfather.
Tom Holland served as the stand-in for the Monster during one week of production.[5]
Sigourney Weaver as Mrs. Clayton (credited as “Grandma”), Conor’s strict grandmother who has a tense relationship with him.
Felicity Jones as Elisabeth “Lizzie” Clayton (credited as “Mom”), Conor’s mother who is diagnosed with an unspecified terminal illness.
Toby Kebbell as Liam O’Malley (credited as “Dad”), Conor’s father who is divorced from Lizzie and now lives in the United States.
James Melville as Harry, a school bully who frequently targets Conor.
Geraldine Chaplin as the head teacher of Conor’s school.
Music by Fernando Velázquez
Cinematography Óscar Faura
Edited by Bernat Vilaplana, Jaume Martí
Production
companies : Participant Media, River Road Entertainment, Apaches Entertainment, Telecinco Cinema, Peliculas La Trini
Distributed by Universal Pictures (Spain)
Entertainment One Films (United Kingdom), Focus Features
Hidden gems are what makes Netflix worth wading through various stillborn comedies and assorted bad anime mecha and all of that. I can think of a half dozen truly wonderful showings I might otherwise never have heard of were it not for Netflix picking it up.
The first one this year is A Monster Calls, A commercial flop that only grossed $3 million over its production costs, it probably had marketing problems. Yes, it’s got a big monster in it, but it’s not a monster movie, per se. It’s listed as a horror movie, and certainly terrible and frightening things happen in it, but it’s not a horror move. The central character is a boy on the cusp of puberty, and so it is a coming-of-age story, but by no means a standard one.
It’s a film that defies the conventions of genre, and does so beautifully and compassionately.
Conor O’Malley (MacDougall) is a boy whose mother (Jones) is dying of cancer, although he hasn’t admitted it to himself yet. He’s bullied at school, and torn between his mother, and his father who has divorced and moved to America. His grandmother is trying to take care of him and his daughter, but they live worlds apart and don’t get on.
Outside his window is a view of a down with an old stone church and graveyard, and near the church is a gigantic, centuries-old yew tree.
One day, at 12:07 pm, the tree suddenly animates, becomes a humanoid form, smashes the church, and wades over to pay Colin a visit. It informs Colin that it will tell him three stories over the next several days, whereupon Colin will have to tell a story to the yew.
This happens as Colin’s life collapses. His mother is now undeniably terminal, and as his relationship with the yew confounds and perplexes him, he gets in deep trouble both as school and with his grandmother. She is played by Sigourney Weaver in one of her strongest roles in a long and estimable career.
The story is deeply and profoundly human, emotional without being mawkish and with unexpected wisdom. The final five minutes made for an exquisite and unforgettable ending.
The acting and the special effects blend perfectly to create a masterpiece.
Now on Netflix.