Samara Weaving

Guns Akimbo

The Babysitter

After viewing two earnest narratives of empowered women last week, I was craving more bold displays of girl power. So far we’ve delved into the filmography of the radiant, red-headed powerhouses Amy Adams and Jessica Chastain, but it’s time to shine a light on someone new, someone who isn’t discussed and celebrated enough for their talents on the screen. Samara Weaving is an action star, scream queen, hero, and villain all rolled into one blonde bombshell. After watching her drag a cigarette in a bloody wedding dress in Ready Or Not, where she rightfully earned her Final Girl status, I knew that I needed to see her in action again. Even when she’s the protagonist killing bad guys, Samara Weaving has a certain edge about her that that makes her both affable and mysterious—a quality that lent itself well to her delightfully dark roles in tonight’s films. Guns Akimbo was a jolting and absorbing experience full of gratuitous violence, impeccable song selections, and so many gloriously gutsy moments from the lady of the evening. In a weird Harry Potter fan fiction that takes place in the Saw universe, Daniel Radcliffe has guns nailed to both of his hands after he trolls an organization that livestreams a game where people fight to the death. He must kill the current reigning champ, Samara Weaving, who just oozed cool as she murdered her way through masses of men and heavy machinery—all while sporting a very Cyberpunk 2077 aesthetic. Its twisted, Scott Pilgrim on coke approach to storytelling was wildly engrossing and at times, dizzying, but never dull. There were a couple stupid lines of dialogue, but that can be forgiven if the story as a whole is well-rounded and enjoyable, which was certainly the case here. This brings me to The Babysitter... I can liken this film to a bag of Chex Mix: a lot of really good elements mixed in with these pointless, tasteless pieces that make you question the palate of the person who put it all together. There was a lot of fun to be had here, especially in the first 30 minutes or so, when we get to see Cole (Judah Lewis) bonding with his impractically badass babysitter. The ever-alluring Samara Weaving was perfectly cast as the part-time babysitter / full time apostate of satan, as was the rest of this eclectic but aggressively relevant cast. Robbie Amell and Bella Thorne, while aptly cast as the quarterback and the cheerleader, were somehow both obnoxious and lackadaisical. Along with Hana Mae Lee of Pitch Perfect fame and King Bach, the unequivocal vine star turned unavoidable Netflix star, the ensemble cast behind Samara Weaving seemingly had it written into their contracts that they’d have to deliver the cringiest lines of this movie. The creative killing, lovable references, and undeniable camp made The Babysitter a thrill to watch, but then someone would utter the absolute dumbest line you’ve ever heard and immediately the vibe is killed. I won’t reveal all of the nausea-inducing lines of dialogue, but King Bach’s line about how if Carrie were black she’d have Hennessy dumped on her should hopefully give you an idea of how horrendous this script was. The banter from this Peanut Gallery of psychos was almost too cringe to bear at moments, and the persistent female exploitation really highlighted how underdeveloped the characters (especially the women) were, which really put a damper on this movie that would’ve been a triumph otherwise. Written by Brian Duffield and directed by McG, who brought us the campy 2000 classic Charlie’s Angels, The Babysitter failed to reach the lovable and blithesome status that it so desperately wanted to reach. Netflix has the tendency to phone it in when it comes to their original content, presumably because they know that everyone has Netflix and that most people will consume what they create regardless of its quality or ability to deliver a story with good dialogue, but this movie’s corniness was too overwhelming to completely enjoy. I was entertained but still disappointed by The Babysitter, a movie that had all of the style and some questionable substance, especially when compared to the high-voltage thrill ride that was Guns Akimbo. I’m all for powerful and dangerous representations of womanhood, but it takes a lot more than bikinis and blood sacrifice to satisfy this audience.