Dylan O'Brien co-stars in this creepy and hilarious survival thriller as its cunning, high-powered executive antagonist.
When Rob Reiner cast Kathy Bates in “Misery,” it felt like a miracle had occurred. Not only because Bates was a relative unknown, but because Reiner perfectly understood how to weaponize the actress’s apparent sweetness for suspense. The legendary 1990 film hinges on Bates’s total transformation into Annie Wilkes, an unremarkable woman overlooked by the world who reveals her vengeful nature when the rules are broken.
Director: Sam Raimi
Writers: Damian Shannon, Mark Swift
Stars: Edyll Ismail, Xavier Samuel, Chris Pang
Sam Raimi’s “Send Help” operates in a similar register with a crucial modern twist. Rachel McAdams isn’t a secret waiting to be discovered. She’s an Oscar nominee (“Spotlight”), a romantic comedy icon (“The Notebook”), and one of the great comedic villains of the 21st century (“Mean Girls”). Casting her opposite Dylan O’Brien in a two-hander survival horror-comedy might seem, on paper, like a miscalculation. Putting a movie star in a role that demands humiliation, restraint, and a willingness to look ridiculous can backfire. But here, it’s a force multiplier, and McAdams’s charisma doesn’t just fail to weaken “Send Help,” it electrifies it.
Raimi’s funniest film in years, this upcoming desert island debacle from 20th Century Studios is an ideal synthesis of the director’s career to date. It has the macabre ingenuity of his debut feature, “The Evil Dead,” fused with the comedic precision that made him a game-changing force for Sony’s original “Spider-Man.” Creepy without being bleak and morally uncomfortable without being cruel, “Send Help” delivers its biggest laughs and scares through brilliantly managed physical suffering. This includes what might be Raimi’s best vomit scene since “Drag Me to Hell,” and a classic approach to grotesque dark humor executed with the confidence of someone who knows where the line is.
Meet Linda Liddle (McAdams), a silently suffering corporate employee who is dragged on an international business trip after being denied a promotion. Her new boss, Bradley Preston (O'Brien), is a passive-aggressive tyrant with “American Psycho” instincts. But his overweening arrogance and micromanagement mania can't save him when their plane crashes in the Gulf of Thailand. He and Linda are the only two survivors, and with the HR department gone, this immediately changes their dynamic. Bradley, the kind of boss who would crawl inside your abdomen rather than turn down the air conditioning, suddenly can't function without Linda. Worse, he has a injured leg and couldn't run away from her (or any other threat) even if he tried.
Raimi and screenwriters Damian Shannon and Mark Swift (“Freddy vs. Jason,” “Friday the 13th,” “Baywatch”) waste no time turning the island into a pressure cooker. At first, the setting seems ripped from realistic survival dramas like “Cast Away” or “The Impossible.” But Linda, armed with decades of “Survivor” knowledge and the quiet competence of someone who's always cleaning up other people's messes, thrives with an almost cartoonish glee. Soon after washing ashore, she builds a shelter, starts a fire, collects water, fishes, and adopts a nonchalant efficiency that borders on arrogance. Before long, she's carved her name into a cup and woven herself a backpack—territorial gestures that mirror the small ways she used to claim her space in the office.
Simultaneously, Bradley crumbles in the absence of capitalism. He refuses to eat, complains about sunburn, and rejects the reality of his hellish situation with relentless tenacity. His attempts at survival are so inept they seem like self-sabotage, and the jungle creatures (rendered with ridiculous but visually consistent enough digital effects to be acceptable) seem to exist solely to punish him. The longer the torture lasts, the more “Send Help” resembles Linda’s wish fulfillment. Somewhere between “Office Space” and “I Spit on Your Grave,” it’s a workplace nightmare distilled to its rawest, most recognizable components of revenge.
That’s where McAdams becomes indispensable. As Linda Liddle (a name that even sounds similar to Annie Wilkes), she remains an incredibly luminous presence. Introduced shuffling around her dreary apartment in an oversized bathrobe, talking to a parakeet, McAdams can’t hide who she is from the audience. Even after clashing with Bradley on her first day as CEO and accidentally spitting a tuna sandwich at him, Linda remains subtly glamorous and endearing.
To his credit, O'Brien never overplays his hand in portraying Bradley as a monster. Instead, he's indifferent and greedy, exhibiting a suffocating laziness and inherently manipulative behavior. He's the kind of man who thinks he's charming because his employees can't say no to him, and Raimi demonstrates great tonal control in how he allows Linda to punish him, making Bradley's torment feel deserved rather than sadistic, even as he whines, vomits, and pays a heavy price for his actions. The accompanying parable could have come straight out of "Tales from the Crypt," offering a bold blueprint for an outlandish confrontation that shines in its ethically ambiguous approach.
"Send Help" walks a dangerous line between cruelty and catharsis, and despite the sensitive subject matter, it somehow never descends into nihilism. The violence is shocking, and the comedy is subtle, with Raimi observing the details of his world with a hunter's precision. Whether it's Linda's confidently deepening tan or Bradley's expensive dress shoes caked in grime, Raimi seems to be right there with us, subtly suggesting whose side we should be on and when. The conversations between Linda and Bradley unfold like a high-stakes battle of wits, but their director is never so far removed that the confrontation feels out of control.
The result—a workplace satire that packs a punch without feeling pretentious—is strikingly timely. Linda's solitary existence as a single woman and the casual judgment she faces for it reflect a world increasingly hostile to women who choose to be single (though her backstory is more complex). If "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" proved that Raimi could handle endless self-referential superhero jokes, "Send Help" applies that same dexterity to a more universally relatable concept. In an era where originality is rarely rewarded, this feels like a true studio success for genre fans.
Far from being a test of endurance, Raimi's latest film leaves you feeling exhilarated. With a climax that culminates in a perfect payoff (satisfying whether you see it coming or not), Raimi doesn't pull any punches, but he doesn't throw them haphazardly either. Rather, he satiates the audience's bloodlust with an exceptional survival thriller that you wish would last longer. Yes, the polished aesthetic sometimes mutes the impact of the director's more visceral sensibilities, and some plot twists strain credulity. Still, these are minor quibbles, not fatal flaws, and easily overlooked.
Charming and with the potential to become a classic, "Send Help" is a controlled, slow-burn delirium. At 66, Raimi reminds us who he was when he made horror-comedy history with "Evil Dead II," and more importantly, why his vision remains relevant. Watching McAdams snarl and strategize, one can almost imagine how much fun Raimi would have had giving her a chainsaw back in the 80s. Here, he bathes her in blood once again, proving that it's never too late for the perfect collaboration, and that neither he nor McAdams should be underestimated.
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