Horror darling Melissa Barrera returns in this delightfully twisted romantic horror-comedy that proves monsters can be the best roommates. First-time director Caroline Lindy adapts her own short film into a feature-length exploration of grief, growth, and the unexpected comfort of closet-dwelling creatures. Laura Franco (Barrera) stumbles back to her childhood home, fresh from battling cancer and nursing a brutally broken heart, only to find her childhood Monster (Tommy Dewey) still lurking in her old closet—and he’s not exactly rolling out the welcome mat. Barrera’s portrayal of Laura as an emotional hurricane in human form perfectly matches the film’s darkly whimsical tone, creating something that feels like a spiritual successor to this year’s Lisa Frankenstein. The production design embraces its theatrical roots with gusto, from the pitch-perfect “theater kid” aesthetic to the impressive practical effects that bring the furry protagonist to life. Your Monster emerges as this season’s surprise gem, offering a perfect blend of scares and heart that shows sometimes the scariest thing isn’t the monster in your closet—it’s letting yourself be vulnerable again.
Laura’s Monster, akin to a werewolf, behaves more like a human than her. Like a bothersome roommate, he orders her around and gets on her nerves. To Laura’s dismay, this is just additional stress to pack onto her already horrifically sad and lonely life. What with her best friend, Mazie (Kayla Foster), constantly abandoning her for auditions and gym sessions despite promises to be there.
The film cleverly uses its monster as a metaphor for feminine rage and self-discovery. Although Your Monster is gentler in its approach to “female rage” compared with other recent entries within this subgenre, leaning as heavily on self-love and empowerment as it does vengeance. Parallels with Beauty and the Beast are overt but also subverted in interesting ways, with Monster acting as both romantic interest and manifestation of Laura’s suppressed emotions.
Of all the most notable, though, is the production design, specifically, the theatrical sequences and sets catered around the practical effects of Monster. Musical numbers are few and far between, but staggeringly well-integrated into the narrative; perhaps they could have been a bit more ambitious in scope. The cinematography really shines during the dance sequences of Laura and Monster—some truly unexpected moments of beauty.
Barrera delivers her strongest performance yet, striking the perfect balance between vulnerability and burgeoning inner strength. Her chemistry with Dewey’s Monster builds organically from adversarial to endearing through a series of unexpectedly well-executed beats that fuel the film’s emotional backbone. Lindy has impressively combined conventions of horror with those of a romantic comedy, though tonal shifts may feel jarring every now and then.
While Your Monster sometimes stumbles along the runtime, it ultimately succeeds as an innovative blend of genres. The film may not revolutionize any of them, but it’s a refreshing spin on some recognizable tropes in service of a worthwhile and self-esteem-boosting message of personal change and self-acceptance. An imperfectly charming debut from Lindy that all but promises even greater things to come.
4/5 Stars