Rating: B-
Dir: Cody Clarke.
Star: Chloe Pelletier, Cody Clarke.
This is not the first digit-related horror movie we have reviewed here. No, sir. The Blair Thumb in 2002 was, uh, more or less what it sounds like. This is even more primitive, and probably sillier – though like Blair, is more or less what it sounds like. It was made during the COVID lockdown, for literally zero money, being shot over three weeks, mostly at night, on Clarke’s iPhone 6. I guess it was either that or making bread like normal people. The title is the premise. An alien space finger (Clarke – or his hand, anyway) descends, initially stalking and terrorizing the heroine, Chloe (Pelletier), in her apartment. Yet the pair begin a relationship, albeit one which is doomed not to end well.
It’s a ridiculous concept, clearly intentionally, and I wondered how the hell it could possibly be stretched to feature length – even the sixty minute running-time here. The interaction between the finger and Chloe is mostly achieved through forced perspective and sound effects, but works surprisingly well. I’ve seen worse in Chinese Animal Attack movies. While nominally SF, I guess, there’s a lot of horror influence, particularly early on, in shots where the finger is peering in through a window, while Chloe wanders round in her underwear. She’s certainly Final Girl material, tooling up to take on her enemy. She repurposes everyday household items to do so, including a colander, bubble-wrap and – inevitably – the Psycho knife. Naturally given the genre, dead doesn’t necessarily mean dead, and at no time does the heroine behave sensibly, and leave or call for help.
The film is also unrepentantly sexual, though in the early going, does so without actual nudity. There is, however, Austin Powers-level blocking, with the digit persistently getting in the way, which is genuinely amusing. What develops subsequently between the giant finger and Chloe is based heavily on sex, because it’s about their only method of communication. I was left wondering if the whole thing is intended as a metaphor for abusive relationships in some way. Particularly towards the end, where things take a dark turn, it feels like Chloe hates her “other half” – yet can’t live without it. Or perhaps I may be overthinking a dumb movie, made simply to stop people from going stir-crazy during a pandemic. That’s certainly possible too.
Then there’s the ending, which might owe as much to The Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy as anything. While equally out of left field as the one in No Shark, it isn’t as successful, not feeling like it was earned. Instead, it feels as if Clarke just thought “Fuck it”, or found something better to do – maybe lockdown ended. He then decided to finish this in the most emphatic way possible, burning his franchise bridges to make absolutely sure there is no possibility of Attack of the Giant Blurry Finger 2. That’s probably no bad thing: while I didn’t feel the concept here outstayed its welcome, I might have been beginning to look for its jacket.