[Film Review] The Toll (2020)

Viewers have an ironic yet reasonable expectation for horror movies to go in unexpected directions. That’s one reason we love the genre. The surprises can be thrilling, giving us an adrenaline rush or a pleasurable jolt out of our relatively comfortable existences.

However, some films turn those shocks into unpleasant surprises or, worse yet, try to manipulate us into doubting our own perceptions before confirming, with all the joy of a soggy slap to the face, that our suspicions were right all along. Unfortunately, The Toll is one of these films. In fact, its biggest surprise is how wrongheaded and misogynistic it is in its apparent attempts to criticize misogyny. 

Writer/director Michael Nader’s film starts out strongly enough. Spencer (Max Topplin) is a rideshare driver who picks up Cami (Jordan Hayes), who is traveling from the airport to her dad’s house out in the middle of nowhere. From the moment Spencer swipes left on two male passengers to linger over Cami’s profile picture before choosing her as his passenger for the evening, the viewer is on high alert. We have a feeling that Spencer is up to no good, and he seems to do nothing but confirm that as he stares at Cami in the backseat and chatters nonstop, asking her probing questions and being as creepy as humanly possible. The shot choices emphasize Cami’s isolation as the car’s headlights sweep over an open, empty road and we see only Spencer’s eyes in the rear-view mirror as he looks at Cami for an uncomfortably long time. Our terror grows right along with hers as she starts to realize just how vulnerable she is, stuck in a car in the middle of the night with a strange man who compliments her inappropriately and discusses his love of bow hunting. 

Then, in true horror movie fashion, their car breaks down. After Spencer’s GPS sends them down a deserted road in the middle of the woods, the engine dies and they begin hearing maniacal laughter in the surrounding forest. Cami and Spencer are stuck on a road to nowhere as the film takes a supernatural turn. They have to work together to face their own demons and survive the night as they’re haunted by the Toll Man, a seemingly demonic entity whose entire existence is explained by a passerby who conveniently happens upon them to provide some lengthy exposition about the nature and motives of the Toll Man. At this point, The Toll begins to rely more on jump scares and reheated Silent Hill scenes, losing quite a bit of steam in the second half and crawling to a disappointing and, frankly, disgusting conclusion. 

In some fairly clichéd scenes, Cami and Spencer both have visions of the worst moments in their lives as the Toll Man attempts to pit them against one another. This psychological warfare takes on a double meaning with Cami’s heart-breaking and infuriating visions. The film opens up narrative avenues it can’t navigate, suggesting a truly horrific backstory for Cami that it never clarifies, leaving the viewer struggling to make sense of the horrors in her past and what they imply about the events of the finale. The Toll gaslights Cami and the viewer, asking her and us to ignore what we know to be true and forgive at least one of her abusers. The ending of the film is simultaneously shocking and not surprising in the least; the most astonishing part is how insulting it feels. 

Much like its stranded characters, The Toll takes wrong turns and goes down a road it should have avoided. Despite an effective beginning and a few solid scares, the film stumbles in the second half and betrays both its protagonist and its audience. The Toll feels like it wants to make a point about women surviving in a world that’s designed to hurt them, but ultimately it just asks them to keep accepting the hurt in the name of entertainment. 

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