Dating
all the way back to Tor Johnson in Plan 9 From Outer Space,
wrestlers-turned-actors have been a constant in Hollywood. Some have fared
better than others, for every Dave Bautista, there’s a Paul Levesque (Triple
H), but the the line from wrestling to acting is a short one. It’s easy to see
why: wrestling above all else, is a performance. The most successful wrestlers
have been able to incorporate believable acting chops into their athleticism
and in turn, become mega-stars. The latest former wrestler to make this jump is
Phil Brooks, better known as CM Punk.
Punk,
at one time, was the biggest wrestling star on the planet. He used his gift for
speaking and ushered in a level of reality into wrestling that had been sorely
missing at the time. For about five years, Punk was on top of the wrestling
world, a massive favorite who blurred the lines of what was a work (“fake”) and
a shoot (“real”). So when he stepped away, somewhat contentiously, fans all
over the world wondered where he’d take his talents next. A stint in UFC came
first and a few acting jobs here and there (most notably in Maron) but
now, Punk top lines his very first film, The Girl on the Third Floor.
Directed
by Travis Stevens (making his debut as a director) The Girl on the Third
Floor follows Don (Punk) as he renovates his newly purchased home in the
suburbs outside of Chicago. His pregnant wife is still in the city, waiting for
Don to fix up the house before she moves in. The house, however, has other
plans and soon enough, Don becomes entangled in a nightmare.
Preferring
to leave things a bit muddy, the film doesn’t reveal exactly why Don and his
wife have fled the city. As the backstory slowly unfurls, we realize Don isn’t
the greatest guy in the world and committed some sort of crime while working at
the “firm.” There’s a healthy dose of exposition but it’s sprinkled in so
naturally that it never feels like the film is stopping dead to reveal more
about Don. The only thing you really need to know about Don is that, for lack
of a better term, he’s a hard drinking, misogynistic dick.
Punk
played the heel in wrestling more often than not so he has some experience
being someone with questionable morals. He’s able to graft all of that onto
Don. Behind every smile Don gives to his wife over FaceTime, there’s a seedy
distance behind it. He’s straining to put the right foot forward. He clearly
wants to move on from his awful past but his basic instincts often prevail.
This is made all the more complicated by the appearance of a woman (Sarah
Brooks) in skimpy clothes at his side door. Don is often tested and fails but
what’s remarkable is that it’s hard to hate him. Whether he’s hiding beer away
from the phone’s screen or cheating on his wife, Punk’s natural charisma always
comes through. That’s not to say you support him or even like him. It’s just
very hard to hate him and a lot of that comes down to a great performance.
What’s
equally interesting is how the script handles Don and how the camera lingers on
him. So many horror movie protagonists are young women, barely dressed, running
through the house screaming. Here we have Punk, often shirtless or in his
underwear, running through the haunted house in terror. He screams, he shrieks,
he jumps and in doing so completely reframes the “Final Girl” trope. Here, the
Final Girl is Punk. Seeing a former ass kicker reduced to a screaming, crying
mess is an absolute blast and Punk sells the hell out of it. As he descends
into madness, all of Don’s bravado and swagger washes away and we’re left with
a sobbing boy who couldn’t be strong enough for his wife. The house recognizes
this immediately and exploits it.
But
Punk isn’t all that’s great about The Girl on the Third Floor. Stevens’
direction is excellent, wonderfully working in tandem with Scott Thiele’s
cinematography. The way Stevens frames his actors, particularly Don, is so
clever. We often see Don in mirrors or through doorways, at low angles. It’s as
if we’re watching from the perspective of the house. Don is the protagonist,
yes, but he’s wholly unsympathetic. He’s a sexist pig who gaslights women
through charm. It isn’t rewarding to view the film through his lens and instead
we’re offered a more peripheral POV. Even when Sarah shows up at his side door,
the camera is more interested in Don’s body. The house is preying on him, not
Sarah. It’s a stunning contrast to who and what horror films usually sexualize.
The
house itself is gorgeously surreal. Pastel pink walls, gaudy wallpaper, creepy
mirrors with odd carvings on the frames, it’s reminiscent of the Overlook
Hotel- which is fitting because Don’s descent is very similar to that of Jack
Torrance. Nothing about the decorations in the house feels threatening at first
glance but it’s in the mundanity of it all that the creeping dread is allowed
to fester. Stevens couples this with some terrifically gross effects. Pipes
burst into Don’s face, covering him with a festering black liquid. Disgusting
clear-ish white slime seeps from every open orifice in the house (you can
decide for yourself what that is). And on top of that, there’s some
fantastic body horror that to describe would be to spoil the fun. The only hint
I’ll give you is that you might not be able to look at marbles the same way
again. Stevens mixes the sickly with the sweet to tremendous effect. No other
horror film, or any film for that matter, can boast a house that looks like
your grandmother’s except for the small problem that it might be secreting
semen or blood or both.
The
building of dread here is fantastic as well. Stevens twists the knife,
escalating the horror with each scene until it builds to one of the most
wonderfully bonkers crescendos you’ll see this year. The final act takes
everything the film has thrown at you, puts it in a stew and then splatters it
on the wall. The rage of women who have been used, abused and discarded by
awful men like Don is, quite literally, made flesh and few films will leave you
this satisfied.
The
Girl on the Third Floor is a terrific directorial debut for Travis Stevens and
starring effort for CM Punk. There are hiccups to be sure, every indie horror
has them, but that so much of this works and works well is a small miracle.
Haunted house flicks are always going to be ever present and it’s on the people
making them to either do something new and fun with them or just competently
travel well worn territory. This film succeeds at both and instantly becomes an
exciting new entry. Bye playing with classic horror tropes in ways that feel
urgent and relevant, it stands out as a must watch for this spooky season and
every one after that.
--Brandon
Streussnig