The idea of a Goosebumps film sounds like something born of the now-hackneyed millennial yearning for falsely-rebooted nostalgia. But this newest adaptation of R.L. Stine’s early 90s-and-beyond monumental children’s series (though, the characters in the film are quick to tell us these are not simply children’s books) doesn’t settle for the common generational wink and a nod. This is a horror film about horror stuffed in the monster-skin of a family feature.
Director Rob Letterman and writer Darren Lemke scour Stine’s source material to compose a Gremlins-esque blast of old school mayhem and adventure. Their new film eschews Hollywood’s normal nostalgia algorithm. This isn’t dense fan service in the guise of a comedic send-up of its source material or a gritty, uber-horrific interpretation. No, instead the filmmakers choose to make a film that’s an addition to the mythos of Stine’s horror series, not mere supplement. This is straight-forward fun filmmaking meeting our love of the past, and it couldn’t feel more honest.
Zach (Dylan Minnette) is the new kid in town. His mother Gale (Amy Ryan) has taken the vice principal position at Madison, Delaware’s local high school. But they come bringing baggage: the loss of Zach’s father. The first few scenes are colored by this tragedy, yet Letterman doesn’t allow his film to wallow. Soon, Zach is noticing the creepy house next door. Enter the mysterious and alluring girl-next-door Hannah (Odeya Rush) and her shifty-eyed, outlandishly-accented father Mr. Shivers (Jack Black). Mix in the oddball high-schooler, ironically-named wingman-loser Champ (Ryan Lee), and the tropes are set. Let the mayhem begin.
Without a narrative pause (thankfully), Zach and Champ are soon sneaking into the creepy house to investigate what their fantastical high school minds think may be a dangerous situation for Hannah. (Pubescent boys and their hero complexes.) They find no damsel-in-distress but stumble upon a bookshelf containing what seems to be Stine’s original Goosebumps manuscripts. Yet as with any classic Goosebumps story, things are not always as they seem. Soon the town is flooded with the books’ classic monsters when they are let loose from their leather-bound prisons.
This is not a straight-forward adaptation of any single Goosebumps volume. Instead this film includes, by its end, nearly every one of the series’ villains/monsters/horrifying conundrums, making this film actually about the origin of these stories. This film is the Goosebumps meta-text. To save spoiling the twists and turns (please don’t read the IMDB page), I’ll just say that Stine and his inner demons play a major role in the film. Ultimately, it’s really a story about two men: Zach and Stine, and how inner turmoil manifests itself in dangerous ways. And the fact that this film is able to deftly and truthfully explore those themes while remaining equal parts rousing, hilarious fun and true horror fright fest is a testament to the craft on display.
Goosebumps’ cleverness comes honestly because it is fully aware of its literary roots yet grounded in the filmic story it tells. It’s aware of Stine yet not of itself. Also, the filmmakers don’t allow themselves the cheap ironic fan service and audience-winking that many modern horror films indulge. Instead, they tap into the true spirit of the source material by telling the story of the fear behind the literature. Goosebumps is about the essence of how and why we tell horror stories. And in that it mimics the original works of Stine, validating the shared communal fears of childhood (and life after)–absurd though they may be–instead of denigrating them. This is the true spirit of Goosebumps, the allure which has continued to draw millions to read Stine’s works. If the books tell the deepest fears of childhood, this film tells us the story of the mind behind the understanding. It’s an addition to the Goosebumps mythos and the horror genre at once.
Letterman and Lemke have tapped into something rare with this delightful and life-affirming film: the nature of nostalgia and adaptation. If nostalgia’s best and truest utilization is its ability to resurrect a spirit, then cinema birthed by nostalgia is the adaptation of memory. That gross ubiquity we know as nostalgia is thus artfully linked with the adapting of older source material. The best adaptations–like nostalgia–evoke the right spirit. Nostalgia taps into the emotional tie that we have to the past, not the past itself, making it a thing denser than mere memory. It is the very why of a memory. It’s the manifestation of longing. It’s ethereal and otherworldly, better explained in images and sound than in words. This is why each generation revives, reboots, rejiggers, reassesses, re-deconstructs, rethinks their collective childhood.
Unfortunately in our existential shuffle to resurrect the past, the modern age has a tendency to sour nostalgia, and therefore misrepresent the beauty and gravitas of memory. Much of what is made in this vein, be it through film or television, has a tendency to wink at the audience through reference and fan service. Instead of actually cherishing the true essence of the past, we settle for just being told that we have one. So it’s rare when a filmmaker can capture the essence of a book, or even a whole series of them, for that matter. The witty and smart, scary and emotive Goosebumps is not a perfect film, but it is a near perfect piece of nostalgic adaptation, one that affirms life in the midst of its horrors.