The tagline for The Monkey, the new film by writer/director Oz Perkins, says that "everybody dies, and that's fucked up." You know what else is fucked up? Watching a filmmaker you've admired over the years torch all that goodwill with the same hellbent rage that Adam Scott has for the titular toy monkey during the film's cold open. This is not Longlegs, both in terms of the tone and overall quality.

How and why Scott came to hate this monkey is a bit of a mystery. Even he's not exactly sure what it does, only that bad things happen whenever you turn the key on its back and let it bang its drum. And the definition of "bad" here isn't just a stubbed toe or missing the bus. It's the kind of bad that results in an extremely gruesome death in a series of events that would even make Rube Goldberg blush.

The simplicity and inevitably of the threat that this primate possesses is where Perkins - adapting from the 1980 short story of the same name by Stephen King - finds his kernel of truth about the balance between life and death. Any of us could die at any time by any combination of causes. "It's like life" reads the box that the monkey comes nicely wrapped in, a sentiment echoed by the mother (Tatiana Maslany) of twin brothers Hal and Bill (played by Christian Convery as kids, and Theo James as adults). The boys learn firsthand on several instances the cruel power that life has to give and take away from you at any moment.

Like me, just being aware of the concept of the Final Destination and Dumb Ways to Die franchises gives you more than enough familiarity with this concept. Perkins doesn't offer much of anything beyond the surface-level observations, opting for the comedy-horror tonal balance to do much of the heavy lifting. But between several horribly unfunny and/or funnily unscary sequences, the only facial expression you'll be making is one of annoyance.

That weightless unpleasantness also applies to the deaths that litter the runtime. While everything that is happening to the people around the boys is horrifying, Perkins always dons a dastardly smile. A falling shotgun here, a slippery kitchen knife there, it's all supposed to make you simultaneously wince and howl with laughter. The suspense of the unknown in Longlegs has been replaced with the suspense of the inevitable. Granted, that is the point. It just makes everything feel so tedious, with a filmmaker taking us on several extra laps around a track that wasn't that good the first time.

What is good is James' dual performance. Most of his time is spent as Hal, the smaller of the twins who constantly gets bullied and belittled. His ruggedly good looks and tall frame are submerged under glasses and a sheepish demeanor. Between him, the physical monkey doll, and the frames concocted by Nico Aguilar, The Monkey does at least have some visual splendors to enjoy. But the occasional treats for my eyes do not make up for the wretched experience that the rest of my body and soul were put through.