The director of one of the few esteemed horror sequels (Wrong Turn 2: Dead End) adapting H. P. Lovecraft? Yes please. Joe Lynch reimagines “The Thing on the Doorstep” with the tropes of 90s erotic films and a tribute to classic possession horror cinema, meriting all our admiration for his effort. Suitable Flesh (even the title is erotic!) is fun, daring, very dark, and very horny. Heather Graham (Boogie Nights) delivers a strong lead performance, but Judah Lewis’s (The Babysitter) sleazy Asa is what stands out here. Because of the horror’s nature, all the actors will have a go at playing a demonic version of their characters and it’s mostly good fun, but Lewis channels a certain scary nihilism that fits in very well with the film’s attitude towards sex and possession… Without revealing too much hereafter, I must say that the film takes the phrase “an out of body experience” to the next level, when relating it to sexual pleasure.
"This is a film about the continuation of an immortal but ever-evolving spirit, and it makes good on that premise inside and out -- entrails and all."
— David Ehrlich
"While neither particularly profound nor earth-shatteringly scary, “Suitable Flesh” is better than passable grisly horror fun in a very specific tradition."
— Glenn Kenny
A once-esteemed psychiatrist helplessly watches her life spiral into a nightmarish maelstrom of supernatural hysteria and gruesome deaths, all linked to a seemingly unstoppable ancient curse.
Psychiatrist Dr. Elizabeth Derby (Heather Graham) never takes her work home, but after meeting the young Asa (Judah Lewis), she becomes obsessively drawn to him for what seems like a mysterious and dark reason.
As with all Lovecraft film adaptations, there's always the danger of the true horror of it slipping through the cracks of sloppy practical effects or wonky editing. In the case of Suitable Flesh though, neither of these is actually in danger of sabotaging Lynch's directorial vision. His lifelong devotion to horror pays off in shaping this film into a rather curios work of filmic philosophy, as it questions the relationship between lust, fear, and cinema. The latter is particularly crucial here, because the cinematic ways in which Lynch shows these unorthodox possession states—with neurotic camera movements, shaking, 180 flips, and jump cuts—testify to both his conceptual proficiency and his command of the medium. The scenes end just before they start to look gimmicky, so he also knows better than to overdo it, leaving us with the attempt to make sense of who's who and whose desire overrides this time.
Now that's one horny demon!
