My Corner

January 2025

Horror cinema has always mirrored the rotting underbelly of culture, and Drew Hancock’s “Companion” arrives at the perfect moment to hold up a cracked mirror to our loneliness epidemic. The world he imagines pulsates with an unsettling familiarity: a society where relationships are fully commodified, desire is pre-packaged and ready for checkout, and humanity’s dark yearning to possess rather than understand finds its most horrifying expression in a humanoid bot named Iris.

Sophie Thatcher gives Iris a haunting vulnerability that seeps through her mechanical precision, her glassy eyes scanning a supermarket aisle in a striking homage to “The Stepford Wives.” But Hancock’s film doesn’t merely retread old suburban dystopias; his vision catapults them into the digital age, a realm teeming with incel forums, OnlyFans subscriptions, and dead-eyed Zoom calls. In his script, bots become the final purchase to avoid personal growth. One can almost hear Hancock whispering to the audience: “If you could buy someone who never said no, would you?”

Jack Quaid’s Josh carries himself with the self-assured charm of a golden retriever unaware he has rabies, blithely performing romance while his girlfriend-bot absorbs his every insecurity and expectation. Quaid’s comedic hysterics pair beautifully with Harvey Guillén’s buoyant exuberance as Eli, whose sweetness remains magnetic even as dread rises like bile in the throat. Their group’s weekend retreat pulses with underlying tension, each interaction a quiet reminder of the fragility of human decency when unchecked power is on sale.

Hancock’s direction brims with promise, offering a barrage of clever twists that keep the viewer leaning forward, grasping for a stable truth within his labyrinthine narrative. The film’s comedic rhythm sings with “nice guys finish last” jabs and quips that never grow stale, especially when cushioned between moments of formidable terror and unsettling violence. Thatcher shines brightest in scenes where Iris’s sentience swells with tragic awareness, her wide eyes revealing the infinite longing of something trapped between object and being.

However, Hancock hesitates to peel back the flesh of his concept to expose the deepest sinews of horror beneath. The narrative often tells rather than shows, relying on the endless bounds of sci-fi technology to resolve conflicts rather than confronting the consequences of mechanized misogyny or the implications of building a culture around non-consent. Instead of gnawing on the marrow of these ideas, Hancock’s film sketches them in broad strokes and retreats to the safe refuge of genre tropes.

“Companion” remains wildly enjoyable despite its reluctance to fully devour its potential. The kills, while occasionally rudimentary, feature enough carnage candy to satisfy horror fans hungry for spectacle, and Hancock’s dedication to humor that indicts rather than merely entertains keeps the film from slipping into meaninglessness.

Perhaps “Companion” is not revolutionary, nor is it the final thesis on human loneliness in a digital age, but it remains a compelling, intelligent, and stylishly executed entry in the ongoing horror renaissance. Watching Iris become more human than her buyer ever hoped to be feels like the true terror Hancock wants us to carry home, tucked away with the knowledge that even our darkest desires for connection will always remain, unpurchasable and unprogrammable.