Michael Fairbanks
Adam Wingard became a darling of the 2010s horror scene when he arrived with You’re Next and The Guest. The former showed that he had an eye for a brutal slasher, while the latter mixed that same sensibility with some tactical action. The star-making performance from Dan Stevens certainly didn’t hurt either. Wingard then took a turn into being a company man with Netflix’s Death Note, The Blair Witch reboot, and the double of Godzilla Vs Kong and Godzilla vs. Kong: The New Empire. These movies vary in quality but slowly sand down the sardonic and cruel chops that endeared Wingard to his fans. He’s clearly realized that his street cred has run thin, abandoning the Kaiju to bring us another original. The long-awaited hook is three super soldiers with spooky masks shoot and slash the citizens of an unsuspecting desert town. That’s right! Onslaught is just You’re Next and The Guest baked into one another to create a flavorless bore.
We find Iraq War veteran Celeste (Adria Arjona of Hit Man) as she runs a small trailer park of fellow soldiers as if they’re all still on base, pestering her tenants for rent between trips to the gun range. Celeste’s daughter Daisy (Blake Kennedy) gets unexpectedly dropped off for the weekend by her inconsiderate ex-husband Griffin (Jacob Scipio). Celeste tries to make the best of it, but fate has other plans. At a nearby military compound, an experiment by Hans Kammler (The Ritual‘s Dan Stevens) goes horribly wrong. He has created The Butcher (Alex Pereira), The Crybaby (Tyler Hall), and The Cockroach (Dave Campbell), three dead soldiers who have been turned into soulless, psychotic husks of their former selves with deadly strength and efficiency. These zombies with guns don’t like taking orders, immediately freeing themselves and wreaking havoc on all who cross their path.
Personally, I find “three really mean and strong guys” to be a pretty weak example of an Onslaught. Simon Barrett’s abysmal screenplay compensates for this underwhelming payoff with an onslaught of needless world-building. The stacked supporting cast serves no meaningful purpose aside from halting the mayhem from the allegedly unstoppable soldiers to deliver exposition. Stevens is caked in elaborate old-man makeup and a bald cap to cover up a trite mad-scientist routine that he delivered with more menace in Cuckoo while remaining handsome.
We get an intriguing peek into Hans’ home life when he crawls on the floor to greet his domineering wife Hanna (Resurrection‘s Rebecca Hall), but that is quickly abandoned after a cheap laugh. A wasted opportunity for these two great actors to weaponize their acidic chemistry from Brian Crano’s Permission. Later, a drug-addicted enforcer named Cyrus (Drew Starkey) comes into the picture to also add… nothing. He exists entirely on the outskirts of the story to guffaw at the soldiers’ violence and wonder what might come next. Starkey has some fun playing this prissy party boy. We quickly see that he has no fun carrying out the sociopathic aspects of his job. He’s just never utilized well. Cyrus and Hans could’ve been fused into one character.
Celeste spends most of Onslaught waiting for something to happen to her. Adria Arjona is a commanding presence who delivers a woman trying her best to break through her traumatized exterior to be a comforting presence for Daisy. She shines in the moments where Celeste expresses disdain for the formal behaviors Griffin has instilled in their daughter. There’s genuine dread in knowing that she will have to lean all the way into aggression to survive the eventual assault. When the goons finally do arrive, Wingard halts the action over and over again. Sometimes we go back to Cyrus. Other times we spend precious minutes yapping it up with neighbors Josiah (beloved Family Matters sitcom dad Reginald VelJohnson) and Kovacks (Eric Wareheim) while the soldiers patiently wait outside, standing in a formation reminiscent of John Carpenter’s The Fog.
All of Onslaught is a blatant homage to Carpenter, and, at times, Wingard sells himself as a passable mimic. Oren Soffer’s cinematography establishes palpable paranoia. We feel completely isolated in this town surrounded by vast desert on every side. The soldiers loom over every frame they’re in, with first-person POV shots often following their overwhelming gunfire upon innocent people. Matthew Pusti’s electronic score feels entirely reminiscent of something Carpenter would cook up for himself, even if there is no distinct theme that might dare to forge a memorable moment. We feel the gravity of the innocent deaths. Wingard has no problem being ruthless to bystanders. In fact, we often cut back to an unhoused man’s burning body after he’s thrown into a barbecue pit by one of the soldiers. There’s just nothing that rises above imitation. Despite their funny names, even our three killers are indistinguishable beyond height. I wish that Crybaby had lived up to his name! At least someone would’ve had a feeling.
Men with Wingard’s reputation usually get a thousand chances at a comeback, and as such, I don’t expect that Onslaught will be a career killer for him. It does, however, show that he does not still have whatever verve his young and hungry self did. Pretty embarrassing to not even be able to rip yourself off well. Maybe it’s time to give his old pal Godzilla a call.
