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Brahms the doll. Creepy little shit. 

Not to be confused with The Boy, 2015 – The Boy, 2016 is about Brahms. Brahms is the ‘son’ of a somewhat elderly couple, who’ve hired a new nanny while they go on a much needed vacation. With a name like Brahms you would be right in assuming that the lovable tot has some issues, not least among which is parents who would opt to call their son Brahms. However, things are even weirder than that as Brahms, you see, is actually a porcelain doll. As the movie potters onward, we discover that the real Brahms was killed in a fire and his geriatric parents replaced him with the doll.

Let me ruin the entire movie for you right now by stating that the rather atmospheric build up to a supernatural horror in the first half is destroyed utterly in the second act in what can only be described as a “fucking stupid” twist at the end.

The assortment of creepy antics in the first act turn out to be the work of the disfigured son living in the walls. The last time I remember this twist was in the excellent Australian horror comedy Housebound, 2014. And it worked there because that was a horror comedy – and the idea that the supernatural events had all been caused by some smelly bastard living in the walls was supposed to be ludicrous.

the real brahms.png

The real Brahms, in all his hairy, disfigured glory. 

And here is the real Brahms, and despite the horrific burns he still manages to be considerably less scary than the little doll.

The first half is actually pretty good, but the second half is such a catastrophic letdown it’s unforgivable. Brahms the doll could have spawned a sequel to give Chucky a run for his money. The hairy lunatic in the vest and cardigan combo definitely cannot. It also takes a considerable feat of mental gymnastics to explain away the spooky happenings of the first half of the movie as the actions of one man.

The Boy had promise, for some inconceivable reason the producers of this film decided that a supernatural horror was not the way to go. Instead we descend into the ranks of ridiculous slasher movie – because obviously we don’t have enough of those already.

No thank you. Had promise, destroyed promise. I need a stamp for this.