Bryce McGuire’s Night Swim is the latest manifestation of a usually-interesting release-calendar trend: The early-January high-concept horror movie, exploited by production companies like Blumhouse and Atomic Monster for fun and plenty of profit. See, when the public’s attention isn’t being gobbled up by pending holidays, big sporting events or blockbusters, it turns out that audiences still like going to movies with strong high-concept hooks. Evil kid robot? Creepy escape rooms? Multiple personality-disordered killers? Sequels to Unbreakable? At any point in the year, except October and potentially August, these movies would struggle to find an audience. But because people still need to go on dates and teenagers need to get out of the house even in the post-Christmas lull, they can survive and thrive, even in the coldest days of the year. It’s shockingly encouraging, as if a spectral Ray Liotta finally managed to break through to producers of all stripes that if they release it, people will still come out to the movies. That’s not a reflection on their overall quality – Lord knows some of these movies are atrocious, and January still has its dumping ground status for a reason – and Night Swim isn’t a particularly encouraging example, but it is still a heartening vision of a mainstream cinema free from IP domination, at least for a few solid weeks.
The key problem with Night Swim can be found in its credits: It’s based on a short film made by McGuire and his collaborator Rod Blackhurst, and the film only really has enough momentum and depth to sustain the tension of short-form storytelling. The key concept – the pool is haunted! Haunted pool! – is a fun one. There is something deliciously creepy about the average suburban swimming pool at night, mist lifting off the brightly lit clear blue water as if it were an anglerfish’s esca illuminating a path for prey. And anyone who has had a near-death experience in a body of water can tell you there’s more than enough danger lurking amidst the chlorine and piss, even in the daytime, for folks to rightly fear it just a little bit.
The opening sequence is essentially the film at its best – in the early ’90s, a young girl is lured out to the pool after seeing her sickly brother’s lost boat floating on the calm waters. She tries to grab at it with a skimmer but falls into the water and is dragged under by some mysterious and shadowy force. Fighting her way out of the ghostly rip current, she sees a vision of her mother offering her hand just above the water’s surface, but when she comes up for air, there’s no one there. Or, perhaps, there is, given that there are ghostly figures standing just out of focus behind her head. Of course, she’s finally dragged to the off-brand Sunken Place that the pool’s victims are taken to, and the boat surfaces once more. Cut it there, and you have a short that would take home awards and get the attention of folks like James Wan and Jason Blum, much like the original did.
Yet that takes up barely five out of Night Swim‘s 98 minutes, a preamble to the tale of woe awaiting the Waller family, who have packed up and moved to the suburbs to be closer to the quality medical facilities nearby. The patriarch, Ray (Wyatt Russell), used to play third base for the Brewers and could send a ball flying into the upper decks with ease, but his time in the big leagues is drawing to a close – he’s been diagnosed with MS, and his dreams of elite superstardom on the diamond are slowly fading away. His wife, Eve (Kerry Condon), is supportive and loving, and his kids, teen Izzy (Amélie Hoeferle) and shy Ellie (Gavin Warren), idolize their dad even as they’re aging out of being their parents’ best friends. They’ve specifically found a house with a pool (although it’s one that hasn’t been swum in for years) so that Ray can do water therapy during the day, and he’s hopeful that with a little effort, he’ll be able to manage his illness and get back on the field.
Of course, this is the pool with a body count and ghosts that look like the Mucinex booger hanging out around it, but it’s not like their realtor’s gonna mention that, especially when it’s priced under market value. After a little renovation and cleaning, the pool’s ready for use, and it seems to brighten everybody’s moods. Dad even starts to feel better almost instantly. The problem is, he’s feeling a little too good. Like, miraculous-recovery good. He’s slamming balls out of the park at Ellie’s Little League games and benching the kind of weight that’d ensure he’d get piss-tested immediately upon his return to the clubhouse. Oh, and there are all the ghostly apparitions and near-drownings happening that Ray somehow refuses to pay attention to. Eve’s disturbed, of course; it seems like the pool might have its eyes on Ellie next.
Much of Night Swim is spent establishing reasons for its characters to be attracted to the pool – Ray’s illness, the kids’ flirtations, pool parties, etc – which is one of those things that just happens when you have a locked-location thriller. There are a number of creepy sequences, including a particularly creepy moment in which Izzy tries to reach inside one of the pool skimmers, but they’re strung together by connective tissue so thin it feels like it could be cut by a dull butter knife. The reason any of it works is because of Russell and Condon, who are strong enough screen presences that they can sell their characters’ struggles and the enduring love they share despite their burdens, but it’s too scattershot and dull to key into the emotional meat of it, and any other sensory delights or thrills are hampered by its structure.
The reveals are all collapsed into a rushed third act, in which we learn the pool’s secrets and have the story’s resolution in the span of twenty minutes. It’s weird to say that four family members are too many, but with the way that the film seems to totally forget about the daughter until her setpiece comes up (ghost Marco Polo!), and then afterward, it might have just been stronger to limit it to three. But that wouldn’t have solved too much – there’s just too little here, and even as McGuire attempts to push the film into camp ridiculousness, such as when Ray gets possessed by one of the evil spirits while, with another man’s kid on his shoulders, he has a chicken fight with another father-son duo, it all lands with a thud.
But this is the struggle inherent to this sort of high-concept PG-13 horror: One can lure the folks in with the promise present in a ridiculous premise, but it’s another manner to entertain them or sustain their interest through the whole runtime. All I can say is that I’m genuinely shocked that they didn’t have some kid’s stomach explode after he went swimming too soon after slamming down some hot dogs, which feels like money that Night Swim just left on the table. But, as the French say, c’est la Janvier.