The Lockdown Thriller That Forgot Its Own Fear

Netflix’s new sci-fi thriller, “The Last House,” bears an uncomfortably close resemblance to our collective experience during the pandemic. A family of four is trapped in their suburban Seattle house, communicating with neighbors through handwritten signs, rationing food, and waiting for a rescue that never seems to come. For around an hour, the movie delivers on its promise as a gripping lockdown thriller.

The early scenes effectively capture the initial response to being quarantined – bravado, jokes, attempts to stay occupied by watching classic movies or learning new hobbies. The family’s resourcefulness and survival instincts are put to the test, much like our own during those uncertain times. However, as the days turn into months, and the months into years, desperation sets in.

One of the most impactful scenes shows Jason, played by Wagner Moura, communicating with a senior neighbor through written signs, only to receive a chilling “no” in response to his question about having enough food. This scene masterfully conveys the emotional toll of prolonged isolation. The movie also captures the sense of community that emerged during the pandemic, particularly in scenes like the quarantine street party, where residents dance in their own homes connected by shared experience.

The movie’s attempt to lean into the bleakness of it all is admirable, but things start to unravel with a mid-movie multi-year timeskip. This gut-punch moment marks a turning point for the film, which tries to stretch its premise too far. As the tone shifts from close-quarters thriller tension to a more ambitious sci-fi monster movie approach, the initial promise of “The Last House” begins to fade.

Genre Shifts and Tonal Whiplash

As the movie chugs towards its finale, it’s clear that the tone has shifted irrevocably. The pandemic analogy is largely disregarded in favor of a preachy environmental message that’s anything but subtle. This tonal shift is jarring, and the resolution is so clichéd that it feels like a damp squib.

The characters’ direct exposition of this message is cringeworthy, and one can’t help but wonder if it’s for the Netflix viewers who are only half-watching while scrolling their phones. Despite the best efforts of Moura and Lee, who are both talented performers, “The Last House” eventually collapses in on itself.

The Problem with Pandemic Analogies

Pandemics have become a convenient metaphor in movies and TV shows. They allow creators to tap into our collective trauma without truly understanding its nuances. “The Last House” is guilty of this, using the pandemic as a backdrop for a shallow environmental message that neglects the complexities of our experience during those times.

In its attempt to be timely and relevant, the movie forgets its own fear – the fear of being trapped, of losing control, of facing the unknown. It’s a fear that’s still raw for many people who lived through the pandemic. By reducing this complex emotional landscape to a simplistic message, “The Last House” fails to deliver on its promise.

What This Means for Netflix

“The Last House” is not just a missed opportunity; it’s also a reminder of the pitfalls of trying to be too timely and relevant. By neglecting its own themes and relying on convenient analogies, the movie forgets its own fear – and in doing so, fails to deliver on its promise.

As we move forward, it’s essential for creators to understand that pandemics are not just metaphors; they’re complex emotional landscapes that require nuance and sensitivity. “The Last House” becomes a cautionary tale about the dangers of reducing trauma to simplistic messages.

In the end, “The Last House” is a movie that forgets its own fear – and in doing so, loses sight of what makes it truly terrifying: the unknown.