One of Blumhouse’s Most Underrated Thrillers is Now Streaming
Back in 2015, Universal Pictures quietly released a Blumhouse film unlike most of what they’d done before. By then, the production company had carved out its micro-horror niche. Titles like Paranormal Activity, Insidious, Sinister, and The Purge were high concept, low budget. Rob Cohen’s The Boy Next Door, written by Barbara Curry and starring Jennifer Lopez, no doubt hoped to capitalize on the Blumhouse name. With a $52 million worldwide gross against a meager $4 million budget, I’d reckon it did so successfully. Yet, critical reviews were harsh, and as the film turns 10, The Boy Next Door remains the subject of derision online. Is it so bad? No, not really—these “cookies” are pretty sweet.
Right away, know The Boy Next Door isn’t nearly as erotic as the marketing suggests. It’s speculative, though I imagine some of that has to do with Lopez’s involvement. In the 1990s, there were rumors LL Cool J (Halloween H20, Deep Blue Sea) had a contract clause prohibiting his death in a film, lest it tarnish his IRL image. I don’t know whether that’s true, though in The Boy Next Door’s case, I can almost viscerally feel Lopez’s mega popstar image eroding some of the film’s more erotic, hornier moments. Plainly, Lopez’s Claire Peterson is never rendered villainous. Erstwhile erotic thrillers were morality plays. Often misogynistic, yes, but nonetheless sweet exercises in just desserts. Mess around, find out. Lopez, with bangs and glasses, is the movie’s moral superiority.
Claire, separated from her husband (perennial movie husband John Corbett), is easily seduced by 19-year-old new neighbor, Noah Sandborn (Ryan Guzman, so cut the seduction is never questioned). They spend a passionate, though barely R-rated night together before Claire, a teacher at the local high school, ends the brief affair. The Boy Next Door is basically a horror movie, though, so naturally Noah doesn’t take it all too well.
In our review of the film a decade ago, we wrote,
“There are deaths, but they’re not too graphic, and some deaths could be seen as somewhat justified because some of the victims have sinned and Noah is brewed in lustful obsession. Does it have enough deaths to be in contention as horror? No. Are they graphic enough? Not quite. Although the ending does walk the line and even teeters over a little into horror territory, showing disfigurement and a little shock in its fiery conclusion.”
I’d offer a different perspective—The Boy Next Door is a horror movie, and it’s one of Blumhouse’s hallmarks from its early days.
This is more than an exercise in reclaiming allegedly “bad” cinema. The Boy Next Door is laughable at times, but knowingly so. “I love your mother’s cookies” is a line delivered with so much sincere gusto, it’s hard not to be won over by the confectionary double-entendre. Noah gifts Claire the first edition of The Iliad… just, this is incredible cinema, okay?
Bringing a woman flowers on a first date is dumb. My friend went on a date with this woman who lived next door and he brought her a first edition of The Iliad. That’s how you impress a woman
— Meech (@MediumSizeMeech) December 14, 2024
Lopez, despite the overarching feeling everyone involved is trying to keep things as tasteful as ever, plays desperation well. Noah leans hard into his Glenn Close origins, hacking into computers to enroll himself in Claire’s class, orchestrating allergic reactions, and soon carving up Claire’s friends in Michael Myers fashion. Kristin Chenoweth gets splatter-movie killed here, and that alone warrants the price of admission.
The Boy Next Door isn’t like Blumhouse’s standard slate, and even ten years out, it’s still quite unlike most of what’s being released. In the 1990s, The Boy Next Door would have been right at home alongside The Hand that Rocks the Cradle and The Good Son. Eroticism aside, The Boy Next Door is an assured domestic thriller, the kind too rarely greenlit these days outside of throwaway Netflix originals and an endless stream of Lifetime Original Movies.
Several years ago, around the time of The Boy Next Door, they did return briefly. No Good Deed, The Intruder, Breaking In, and When the Bough Breaks among others. Screen Gems distributed three of those, and notably, they were releasing more films starring Black actors than any other studio. With streaming more popular than ever, domestic thrillers don’t really have a place in the theatrical ecosystem. Even Orphan: First Kill, a film whose predecessor grossed $78 million worldwide, was released in just 478 theaters in August 2022.
Thrillers like The Boy Next Door belong in the theatrical space. They thrive on community and audience engagement. Everyone needs to gasp together when Claire walks into her classroom to see almost nude photos of herself printed and hung all over. In the fiery, gruesome finale, Claire jabs an EpiPen into Noah’s eye and allows a motor engine to crash down onto him, crushing him. It’s violent excess delivered with domestic sincerity—a family pushed too far, finally fighting back.
Is The Boy Next Door groundbreaking? No, but as a relic of a different era in moviemaking, it’s worth revisiting. Despite the concessions made, it was always worthwhile to see an A-lister get down and dirty with some tawdry genre pleasures. A little blood, a little sex, and a lot of cursing go a long way, and The Boy Next Door is chock full of thrilling, if familiar, delights.
The Boy Next Door is now streaming on Peacock. As the film turns 10, I encourage you to either revisit it or watch it for the first time. It’s best if you have some good company with you. You’ll laugh, roll your eyes, and just generally have a rollicking good time. It’s trash, but intentional. It knows what makes a sleazy thriller work and is more than happy to deliver on all counts. You’re liable to like it so much, that you might just invite the boy next door over again. It’s a night you won’t forget.
Categorized:Editorials News
