Rating: D
Dir: Jamie Bailey
Star: Sophie McIntosh, Mackenzie Mills, Callum Sywyk, Simon Phillips
This was the first film to take advantage of Mickey’s new public domain status, being announced on January 1, the day the Disney copyright lapsed. The movie was already in the can, at that point called Mickey’s Mouse Trap (as the poster below shows), having been shot in Ottawa over eight days the previous September. In the wake of the announcement, a theatrical release was discussed, but it ended up seeping out, direct to streaming, in August. This makes sense, because it’s a bit shit. There is almost no effort put into this, beyond giving the killer a Mickey Mouse mask as he stalks vacuous young people round an amusement arcade, late at night. Might as well have been a Ronald Reagan mask, it’s that unimportant.
Beyond this, significant parts don’t make sense. The killer can literally teleport, which as you all know [/s], is a key component in the narrative of Steamboat Willie. He’s afraid of strobing flashlights, because… Nope. I got nothing, any more than why said torches are part of the staff equipment in an arcade. But most glaringly of all, the story is recounted in flashback by Goth Rebecca (Mills), to a page of sceptical police officers. She’s explicitly referred to as the sole survivor. Except, when the credits roll, there are still at least two others alive. Little wonder one cop says during her explanation, “Wait, is this some terrible subplot of a ’90s slasher film? It sure sounds like a really bad ’90s film.” Self-awareness. Missed it by that much.
It begins semi-promisingly, with a lengthy disclaimer crawl which approaches Holy Grail levels of surreal textual openings. But thereafter, it’s played depressingly straight, without much desire to play with the concept. It’s vaguely suggested the killer might be the arcade owner, who seems to be a collector, and has been possessed by the spirit of the mask somehow. This is never addressed, and doesn’t explain any of the other elements. A general lack of good gore and gratuitous nudity doesn’t help, with only the occasional bit of acidic dialogue provoking an appreciative snort. Not-so final girl Alex (McIntosh), the sensible employee, is somewhat likeable, trying to keep her head, when all about are losing theirs. Until she can’t.
I guess it could be seen as laudable that the makers don’t lean on the crutch of obvious satire. The problem is, what you have otherwise is, at best, a thoroughly generic slasher – with a pair of rodent ears strapped onto it. It doesn’t turn this into good cinema, any more than attaching those ears to our cat, would turn him into Mickey Mouse. The movie manages a near-Herculean feat, of making me feel sympathetic towards Disney, and that’s not something I have experienced this side of the Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act. In the end though, I do not dislike this because it tarnishes the reputation of a beloved childhood icon. I dislike this, because it largely sucks.