Michael Fairbanks
André Øvredal’s Passenger scores a bit of early goodwill for coming up with a genuinely original idea for a demonic entity. We’ve never seen an elderly-looking demon terrorize the vanlife community. It was perfect fodder for a now-infamous theatrical-only teaser trailer centered around the film’s effective opening jumpscare. Sadly, the novelty of a guy who can slink his way into any car quickly runs out of gas when forced to fit the mold of a Paramount jump scare factory. It’s the type of film that infinitely improves in your imagination. There was clear potential for this concept to thrive had it been a grittier, more eccentrically executed independent production using low-fi techniques to make us feel as disconnected from society as the film’s subjects. Oh well.
After we witness The Passenger (Joseph Lopez) take out two likable buddies, Lucas and Daniel (Miles Fowler and Alan Tong, more compelling in their few minutes than anyone who follows), we center on our leading pair of interlopers. Tyler (Jacob Scipio) and Maddie (Lou Llobell) are a city couple who yearn for an escape from their careers and screens. They decide to set off on a road trip with no clear destination, hoping that cosplaying van life will solve all of their problems. Not so. After pulling over on the side of a darkened road to inspect Lucas and Daniel’s wreckage, The Passenger latches onto them. Now, they are cursed with this hitchhiker from hell stalking them during every night drive. They must now try to overcome an evil that has slaughtered folks more attuned to this type of lifestyle for decades.
This film lives or dies on The Passenger’s ability to scare. Unfortunately, he is simply an old-looking man who makes loud noises. Joseph Lopez does not get much screen time to develop this persona. He’s mostly obscured until it’s time for him to shout BOO at the audience. However, his precious moments on screen are lame. Once he does appear, The Passenger is mostly stationary. He’s the type of demon who can only inflict a brutal kill upon his victims if they stand completely still, shrieking at him. There’s not much to shriek at. He’s an old dude with long hair and rotting teeth. If you saw him, you’d at least try to punch him in the face before freezing. He’s the type of chronically unfrightening creation that would blend into the background of a suburban haunted hayride. He left me craving for flops like The Nun or The Bye Bye Man, which at least had somewhat creepy makeup to carry their lame activities.
Despite presenting as a long-term couple, Jacob Scipio and Lou Llobell seem to have met on the first day of filming. Both are stiff in their own right (Scipio especially, for some reason delivering his lines in a Chris Pratt-like affectation), but they particularly do not connect romantically. Their squabbling about the intricacies of their connection has all the heat of a corporate HR “what would you do” seminar. It gets worse when they’re forced to act scared. Llobell somewhat sells it, but Scipio acts like a cocky boyfriend, doing his best to shut off any possible reaction to look masculine and score at the end of the night. This makes it tough to root for them in their battle against The Passenger. I held onto a shred of hope throughout the first half that this was going to be a pseudo-anthology where we watch The Passenger terrorize different vanlife folks through various scenarios, but unfortunately, we’re stuck with these two.
We get a brief glimpse into what the film could’ve been during Academy Award Winner Melissa Leo’s two brief appearances in the film as veteran traveler Diana. She lends a much-needed level of gravity to her two brief exposition dumps about The Passenger, which suggest that this beast has a long and storied history that we will never see. This only hurts more when Tyler and Maddie visit a trailer park full of Diana’s community mates, who, even in their short screentime, had me grieving a version of this story that was genuinely interested in this lifestyle. This could’ve been a slasher version of Nomadland or Rebuilding; something where your heart breaks at the crushing end to these people’s liberation from society. Perhaps that would’ve been too socially conscious for the Ellison Era Paramount. Better to just use them as props.
My annoyance with Passenger’s lack of scares was slightly curbed by the highly enthusiastic audience I watched it with. “Perhaps it doesn’t work for me,” I thought, “but at least general audiences who just want a jumpscare-ridden date movie will have their fun.” However, as they burst into applause and the lights came up, a sobering truth was revealed. In the center rows, I saw one guy wearing a Passenger t-shirt. Then another revealed itself, then another, and another. Sure enough, my friends and I had stumbled into a screening that Passenger’s crew had decided to crash and hype up. Good on them. I’m glad they’re proud of their work. Sadly, that will likely be the most enthusiastic screening Passenger will ever see. Not scrappy enough to tap into the audience who loves homespun horror. Not rich enough in lore to get the creepypasta crowd, who will turn Backrooms into a smash hit. Not scary enough to give the average person nightmares. It’s just a droning ride down the type of straight-forward unwinding road that tempts you to fall asleep at the wheel.
