[Film Review] Honeydew (2020)

In a genre world where backwoods rednecks and flesh-eating Billy-Bob’s abound, Honeydew is a new and strange entry that really shakes things up. Honeydew is the first feature from writer/director Devereux Milburn and the debut feature role for Sawyer Spielberg (son of Steven Spielberg). 

From the start Honeydew delivers stunning sound design, as creepy as Texas Chainsaw Massacre plus a bit of added ASMR for good measure. The opening scene has everything a horror fan may want; a little house in the middle of nowhere, a girl’s unsettling voice stuttering through sanctimonious bible verses, a close-up shot of bloody meat and lips as they wrap around it. This scene is blanketed by soft chanting and the churning of wheat; and the audience already wonders just what this family is hiding. Soon after this introduction there is a funeral and steady drumbeat followed by the sound of a sharpening knife. This underscores the film as the viewer grows more uneasy with each frame. 

All good post-Texas Chainsaw Massacre backwoods horror films must find a way to separate themselves from the herd. Too often a storyline sticks to a familiar structure that has the viewer squirming in their seats from disgust, but not exactly suspended in fear or suspense. It is a curse that many filmmakers can’t escape – homage bordering on plagiarism – but one that many horror fans are willing to overlook if the kills are gruesome enough.  

Honeydew is the rare release that has managed to offer a story that explores unique and compelling themes while delivering stomach-turning imagery and an uninterrupted feeling of dread. The two main characters, Sam (Sawyer Spielberg) and Rylie (Malin Barr, Top Dog) feel fully developed with a relationship that is very clearly and believably complicated. They get irritated with one another as they get lost in an unknown area, with Rylie cutting Sam off in a way that feels like a consistent point of contention between the two. 

When their car breaks down, Sam and Riley find shelter with Karen (Barbara Kingsley, Jessica Jones) , a welcoming but incredibly strange woman who seems oddly fascinated with Sam, and her seizure-spasming son Gunni. Once in the house, the viewer has the growing suspicion that the two have made a terrible mistake, despite Karen’s hospitality. As Karen cooks them a nice meaty meal, Sam and Riley talk over each other to explain that Sam doesn’t eat meat (or sugar, dairy, anything really) and that Riley is vegan. It’s a moment that Karen’s kindness feels on the verge of crossing into anger, and the viewer can’t help but wish the two wouldn’t look their gift horse in the mouth.

Riley continues on to ask Karen about ‘sordico’, a (fictional) fungus that has affected the area’s wheat and cattle, known to cause gangrene, convulsions, and gradual insanity if consumed over long periods of time. Karen is happy to talk about the subject until Riley asks if she had ever considered moving, at which time Karen’s face freezes into an uncanny, too-big smile that holds just a little too long. This sort of question adds to the tension already developed from Sam and Riley being outsiders and Riley’s borderline arrogance as she struggles to hide her judgement of these people who do things a bit differently.

Milburn’s script successfully weaves common horror tropes (don’t stay the night in that house!) with new ideas and interesting camera work to create a film that causes the audience to think they know where they are headed, when in fact they absolutely do not. 

For his first leading role, Spielberg captures a kind of boyish charm that can be both infuriating and endearing. He enjoys the simple act of eating bread and shows no disgust as Gunni spasms until his face bleeds. Sam’s arc is redemptive and horrifying as he pushes himself to confront the danger that is posed to them in a way that is unexpected, if not futile. Riley does at times fall into the ‘nagging girlfriend’ trap, but little things help to distinguish her from being a one-note character, such as her sneaking a cupcake after insisting Sam forgo dessert. The lack of attention to character detail often sinks genre films, but in Honeydew the filmmaker utilizes commonly held beliefs and judgements in order to misdirect and create new boundaries to cut through. 

The film uses split-screen camera work and synchronizes diegetic sounds – popping, grunts, knife sharpening, tambourine, hand claps, sharp drums, the voices of cartoon characters – with the movements of the characters, creating an underlying sense of impending doom. 

The third act of Honeydew is where the film goes off the rails in the best possible way. It is a twisted and vicious final act with a surprise cameo and a truly fucked up end scene. The best way to watch Honeydew is with the assumption that it will be regular old backwoods, redneck family horror, and let the bold storytelling and inventive filmmaking take you to places you didn’t see coming. 

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