REVIEW: ‘Send Help’ Is A Wonderfully Nasty Return To Form For Sam Raimi

Desert island survival movies typically champion the resilience and perseverance of the human spirit—our ability to defy the elements through sheer force of will. Yet their hopeful message often downplays how dirty, nasty, and downright ugly we’re willing to get to survive. Director Sam Raimi instills that perspective in every frame of Send Help, not only viscerally applying it to our instinct for survival but also our penchant for control, and how basic decency becomes a disposable currency in the bid to hold onto it.

The thorny two-hander doubles as a pulpy, schlocky affair that marks a return to form for Raimi’s revered genre leanings. After a string of studio-controlled, IP-defined projects that pushed his trademark style to the recesses for the better part of a decade (Looking at you, Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness), Send Help finds Raimi’s trademark touch in full form.

Blood, vomit, snot, and all manner of viscera pervade a film defined by its knotty, contorting character dynamics, finding there’s as much to wince at in the wily, moment-to-moment banter of its characters as the violent, cruel actions they indulge in. It all informs an experience that pulls no punches in skewering corporate politics, manifesting as a tense study of control, influence, and power that’s as nerve-wracking as it is absurdly hilarious.

Power dynamics shift in a fight for survival. 

Rachel McAdams stars as Linda Liddle, a loyal, dependable employee at Preston Strategic Solutions whose talents go overlooked. It also doesn’t help that her meek, passive disposition makes her an easy target for exploitation. When nepo-baby Bradley Preston (Dylan O’Brien) takes the mantle of CEO after his father’s passing, Linda’s career aspirations take a severe nosedive.

Preston doesn’t share his father’s fondness for Linda, finding her unpleasant to an acute degree. Which Raimi distills in one of his signature close-ups, ingeniously imbuing an off-putting haptic feel to a relatively common, minor ick. Such flourishes abound in Send Help, not only keeping audiences on edge but tapping into the spheres of condescension that uphold power imbalances.

Armed with pure disdain for Linda, Preston gives her long-awaited promotion to his inexperienced friend. Yet, with an international merger looming, he lures Linda onto a business trip to get one final squeeze out of her expertise. But the trip quickly goes awry, with their plane crash landing next a deserted island. With the two being the only survivors, Linda’s outdoorsmanship—garnered from her obsessive fandom with Survivor—quickly alters the scale, as the two are left to not only find a way to survive, but navigate their shifting power dynamics.

Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien share an abundance of tension-fueled chemistry.

From its first frame, Send Help revels in its vibrantly campy, survival-horror makeup. Bursting with guttural close-ups, frenetic POVs, and artfully expansive wides, it’s a film whose picturesque, coastal beauty isn’t afraid to get down and dirty with the ugliest sides of the human spirit—all the while having  loads of perverse fun. Its brutally effective jump scares and gnarly creature effects are a testament to that, with key sequences recalling some of Raimi’s most iconic work in the Evil Dead series. It’s a feeling the enthralling Danny Elfman score only compounds.

Such qualities are the mark of a filmmaker in pure command of sound and vision. Raimi walks a precarious tonal tightrope that never veers into the outright absurd, keeping its gravely human and thematic stakes in its sights, even as it becomes shockingly grotesque in form and feel. Whether its characters indulge in their darkest inclinations or navigate darkly comic banter, Send Help retains an empathetic lens, deepening the interplay and motivations of its characters as it aims for shock value. The result is a film teeming with intrigue and catharsis, enveloping us as much in its moments of quiet as its stark madness.

Yet such rewards stem from the influx of charisma and chemistry between O’Brien and McAdams. Operating as fascinating, frightening foils for one another, the two relish career-best performances that brim with both theatricality and subtlety. Linda’s newfound paradise of confidence and influence sees McAdams traverse a wide spectrum of emotion, radiating a loveable charm while brimming with a sinister edge.

Send Help is a rousing thriller that explores humanities ugliest complexities. 

Preston’s inverted hell finds O’Brien commanding the frame with his twisted laughs, smug demeanor, and sunken but expressive visage. In a select few moments, his weathered, almost-manic figure even manages to steal the limelight from his co-star.

The two foster a riveting interplay that, at times, shocks and awes much more than their bloodier encounters. As their steady push-and-pull culminates in a brutal, cringe-inducing confrontation, Send Help takes complete control of the senses, practically trapping us on that god-forsaken island with them.

While the overarching plot remains a tad predictable and loses a modicum of steam as it enters its wild third act, Send Help is a rousing thriller that understands its pulpy identity and ambitions with a rare clarity. In eschewing an artistically profound statement, it taps into a primeval fascination with our darkest tendencies. It not only stabs at our ugliest bits but takes time to wholeheartedly laugh at them. If only most thrillers were this sincere in their admiration of our foulest traits.

Send Help is now in theaters, nationwide.