Bone Lake

 

Bone Lake
Starring Maddie Hasson, Alex Roe, Marco Pigossi, Andra Nechita
Directed by Mercedes Bryce Morgan

The idea of staying at an Airbnb has taken flight over the last few years, but it's something I really have never entertained, probably because I'm of an age that feels like I couldn't trust such a place to not have hidden cameras or secret rooms everywhere. Or since there's different listings on different websites, there's the danger of double-booking, where more than one couple gets the same place at the same time. This happened in a sense in 2022's "Barbarian" (one of modern horror's best outings), and happens again in "Bone Lake" - but unlike "Barbarian," "Bone Lake" is riddled with tropes and stupid decisions that made it difficult to care for any of the characters, and the generic story is devoid of any true twists that could've made the conclusion more exciting.

Sage (Maddie Hasson) and Diego (Marco Pigossi) are a couple who decide to spend the weekend at a secluded Airbnb mansion before they move onto their professional paths: Diego to work on his book and Sage to abandon her journalistic ambitions to be the breadwinner of the relationship. At first things are magical, but then couple Will (Alex Roe) and Cin (Andra Nechita) arrive, saying that they also have the place booked for the weekend. The two couples agree to share the space and as they get to know one another, Will and Cin seemingly want to test Sage and Diego's relationship to the brink of separation in some twisted game only they know the rules to.

The thing I hate about horror movies is their use of cliches, and "Bone Lake" has so many it's like counting said bones in said lake. Characters make the most bumbleheaded decisions that make it infuriating to watch. Twists are so advertised they might've just been billboards on the highway. No one is likable enough to root or even care for. The script (written by Joshua Friedlander) is so self-indulgent if it had hands it'd pat itself on the back. The couple pieces of saving grace is the luxurious setting and the film's bonkers final act that infuses classic giallo techniques.

The story is simple: two couples book the same home for the weekend and decide to stay there together. One couple seemingly has it out for the other, gaslighting and tempting them into breaking up for reasons known only to them and whatever god they pray to, while the other is so bland and stupid you sorta root for their demise, or at least include a twist that could've made things more interesting. The quadruple performances of Maddie Hasson (the Temu version of Florence Pugh), Alex Roe, Marco Pigossi and Andra Nechita are fine, but the story circles around on itself multiple times (how many times can Diego try to be seduced by Cin? Or Sage by Will?) where any normal, self-respecting couple would've peaced out long before. In fact, most sane couples would've Eric Cartman-ed out of there right away with the classic "Screw you guys, we're going home." 

Of course, there wouldn't be a movie if that happened, so we get the first of numerous bumbleheaded decisions made by our heroes - so much as they are. The continued taunting and prodding by the other couple makes them question their own relationship, which leads me to believe if they're so quick to listen to strangers as opposed to each other then they probably aren't right for each other in the first place. There's a scene between Will and Diego that angered me to no end, as Diego's response to said event is something no one with any ounce of self-respect would do. This just continues on and on throughout the overly long 94 minute runtime, until it graciously treats us to the "Scooby-Doo" reveal and subsequent insane ending that's both predictable yet enjoyable - the only real enjoyable thing in the whole movie.

That might be saying things too harshly, as I did find myself somewhat enjoying myself, but ultimately "Bone Lake" is bone dry when it comes to offering anything new or exciting, instead relegating itself to the bone yard of generic horror tropes.

The Score: C