Drop is the first AirDrop horror movie, and it’s all in the eyes

Probably the first AirDrop horror movie, Drop takes place almost exclusively in an upscale restaurant located in a Chicago high-rise. After suffering intimate partner violence that resulted in the death of her ex-husband, Violet (Meghann Fahy) is finally ready to get out and date again. Reluctantly, she leaves her young son with her sister and heads out to meet a charming moustached photographer she’s been talking to for months on a dating app. It’s not long, though, before she begins to receive threatening AirDrops (here called DigiDrops) that derail her night.

From Christopher Landon, the director of Happy Death Day, Drop is — at the very least — dynamic. It’s a movie that knows how to use time and space effectively, and plays with perception as a means of eliciting tension. While Violet tries to determine the source of her terrorizer, spotlights illuminate different people in the room — everyone becomes a suspect. The feeling of having your thoughts overwhelmed by your phone are exemplified by large, sign-like texts that overwhelm the screen. Even while people are talking, the screeching threat of her phone drowns out everything else. 

Crafted, as many contemporary thrillers are, as a parable about trauma, the movie dives into the ways that Violet’s traumatic past continues to shape her world view and decisions. As she attempts to move beyond her history, she’s still driven by mistrust and guilt, which motivates many of her decisions. As the mysterious dropper threatens her son, her maternal instinct matches her sense of culpability and guilt for having sustained so long in an abusive situation. It’s not only that she can’t trust those around her — she can no longer trust herself.

The movie has a lot of compelling elements, but none fully come together. Despite the film being more dynamic than an episode of TV, it paints a dire portrait of contemporary cinema’s ability to properly shoot conversation. A lot of the film takes place in one-on-one dialogue and glances at restaurant tables, and more often than not, the filmmaking defaults to a shot-reverse-shot approach to shooting its characters. Utilitarian but ultimately disjointed, it doesn’t give space or time for scenes to find momentum or capture any real sense of rhythm. While the filmmaker uses many different techniques in order to amp up tension or underline the fundamental paranoia of the storyline, the imagination seems to stop when it comes to shooting at a more basic level. 

Ultimately, Drop never feels like more than an exercise in style. Though it’s underpinned by some big questions about overcoming trauma and abuse, it’s essentially a filmmaking test on how to create tension via technology. The film’s central conflict, as revealed in the final act, feels a bit silly, all things considered. It seems like a neat but convenient way to tie together all the loose threads of the premise in a neat little bow. It’s not a deeply felt script, and ultimately lacks any big “wow” moments.

Meghann Fahy — best known for her role in The White Lotus season two — gives an exceptional performance. She’s always a bit uncomfortable in her own skin, first from her nerves of going on a first date, and later due to the unforeseen circumstances of the DigiDrops. She manages to telegraph layers of masking with the appropriate level of discomfort; the people around her sense the underlying unease behind her smile, but they can’t quite put a finger on it. Fahy has a way of smiling that reveals deep sadness and uncertainty — it’s a remarkably adept performance that navigates challenging emotions without delving into obvious performance clichés. 

Drop isn’t quite on the same level as the Happy Death Day films, but it’s compelling nonetheless. Even though there aren’t any particular standout moments, it has enough interest to keep you watching, trying to figure out what might happen next. ■

Drop opens in Montreal theatres on Friday, April 11.

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