Should we look back to the original Star Wars trilogy to discover why Hollywood was so fascinated with creating a triptych of films to extend its IP?  It seems that since George Lucas had the Empire strike back before returning the Jedi to theaters, studios are all about (at least) the trilogy to capitalize on the potential success of their franchise.  That has to be why Lionsgate took their rights to The Strangers, which had previously been gathering dust, and handed Brian Bertino’s idea for a trio of films to be shot concurrently in Slovakia over to a faded director who hasn’t had a hit since before the turn of the century.  

When The Strangers arrived in theaters in May of 2008, it provided a chillingly stark depiction of home invasion horror, featuring a couple (played by Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman) in a tense, atmospheric nightmare seemingly at random.  A decade later, The Strangers: Prey at Night surprised many by not being the faded sequel cash-in but a refined, terrifying experience taking things up a notch in the right direction.  Now, Renny Harlin, a director whose early career heralded promise with adrenaline-fueled content, brings us The Strangers: Chapter 1, where the scariest thing about it is that there are two more chapters to go. 

Three days into a cross-country road trip across the Pacific Northwest, Maya (Madelaine Petsch, Riverdale) and her boyfriend Ryan (Froy Gutierrez, Initiation) stop off in Venus, Oregon, where the cell reception ain’t great, and the greasy-haired locals like to stare at you with dead eyes and their mouths slightly agape.  That’s OK, though; why not order the vegetarian option at the town’s diner and see how well that goes over?  After enduring the stares and finishing their meal, they go to leave when, wouldn’t you know it, their fancy car won’t start, and the mechanic says they won’t be able to get the part to repair it until the morning.

That means Maya and Ryan will be staying at Joe’s Murder Cabin…sorry, Joe’s Hunting Cabin, an Airbnb on the outskirts of town in the middle of nowhere.  No sooner do they get settled in for the evening when they receive a familiar (to anyone who’s seen the first two films) knock at the door and a woman’s voice asking, “Is Tamara there?” calls to them.  When they open the door, the woman is standing four feet in front of them but is 100% obscured from their vision because she’s unscrewed the light bulb on the porch (even though we can see the details of the barely lit trees twenty feet in the distance, figure that one out).  Sorry lady, Tamara was wise and skipped this sequel.

After dismissing her, Ryan realizes he forgot his inhaler (yep, there’s an appearance by asthma, the silent killer here, too) back at the car.  He’ll take “the motorcycle I noticed out front” to town to retrieve it and some grub while Maya waits around for more knocks on the door and unnoticed flashes of the masked killers that have begun to stalk the couple.  While filled with heaps of potential and multiple creative roads to travel, the narrative setup winds up feeling like an exhaustive retread of familiar territory, lacking the ingenuity that made the two previous films stand out.  

The decision to film all three movies simultaneously suggests an ambitious vision for this trilogy, and with the story crafted by original writer/director Bertino, there’s some kernel of hope early on it will deliver.  However, this bold ambition fails to translate into a compelling narrative. While initially promising, the story quickly loses its grip, leaving the audience disinterested. The eager performances swiftly devolve into workmanlike horror tropes. Petsch and Gutierrez, while commendable in their efforts, ultimately succumb to the weight of a meandering script that favors occasional jump scares over genuine character development. 

As for Harlin, whose earlier works like Die Hard 2 and Cliffhanger remain personal favorites of this critic, one can’t help but lament the stark contrast between the glory of his earlier works and this current offering.  His heart doesn’t seem to be in it, and he’s strayed far from the director who once brought creative vigor to the set that extended onto the screen.  Despite moody lighting, a jarring sound design, and the occasional inventive camera angle, there’s no energy to The Strangers: Chapter 1, especially when it needs it most, during the moments when suspense should be dialed up.  Even the cinematography, while competently capturing the eerie isolation of the remote setting, fails to fully instill a genuine sense of dread into what should be a slam-dunk location.

Instead of innovating or expanding on its predecessors, The Strangers: Chapter 1 rehashes familiar scenes to the point where I questioned if this was more a remake than a continuation.  This lack of originality is not just a missed opportunity but a disappointment. It offers little in the way of scares, and even those feeble attempts are predictable and repetitive. This repetition, Maya and Ryan slowly wandering around the cabin in a state of fear, underscores its lack of originality. For a franchise that once breathed new life into the home invasion horror genre, this latest entry is a disappointing echo of what has come before.