Not many horror movies are constructed like Dolly anymore. Back in the 70s and 80s, these kinds of movies were reserved for midnight showings and drive-in double features, maybe VHS. They are visceral, uncomfortable, and strangely entertaining. It’s the randomness of it all that’s created a lasting effect.
Think of practical-effects films like Madman or even Tourist Trap.
Dolly is a more cohesive film than those two movies, but it still manages to re-create their overall indie atmosphere. Dolly releases in U.S. theaters on March 6.
Dolly follows couple, Chase (Seann William Scott) and Macy (Fabianne Therese), who are taking a hike in the woods. They happen upon a large collection of old baby dolls hanging from the tree limbs. These aren’t skinny fashion dolls; they’re the creepy old school ones dressed in pinafores that your grandmother displays in the den.
They also discover the caretaker of these dolls (Max the Impaler), a massive person in a red house dress with a porcelain doll head for a face. Is it a mask? Chase is attacked by the monster and left for dead. Leaving Macy to fight for survival after she is abducted by the figure intent on raising her as its own child.
The silly plot is irrelevant. This wildly off-the-rails horror movie is reminiscent of Incident in a Ghostland and Barbarian. Throw in a heaping dose of nostalgia with Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and you can imagine what inspired Director Rod Blackhurst in making this movie.
The main story revolves around Macy’s capture. The monster spoon-feeds her, dresses her wounds, and rocks her to sleep. She’s bound and locked in the filthy house of the grotesque kidnapper, enduring its bizarre motherly actions. “Horror” and “camp” are two words I’d use to describe this film, although it’s more disturbing than comical.
Dolly feels like an even more deranged Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Seeing this hulking monster dressed like a porcelain doll torturing its charge seems horrifying at first, but then you realize there’s something psychotically maternal about the whole thing. It’s still unhinged, but there’s a little bit of empathy that hits on the backend.
Blackhurst keeps the pacing at a good speed. His monster is fascinating to watch, and you’ll wonder if it’s a man or a woman (wrestling fans will know). I didn’t know, so I won’t give it away; the gender reveal is too deliciously demented to spoil.
Max the Impaler doesn’t speak, conveying feelings and emotions through mime work. It’s very Art the Clown, and it works as effectively in this movie as it does in Terrifier.
There are only a handful of cast members. Fabianne does her best. She’s mostly running scared and reacting to Dolly’s disgusting behavior. She has her spotlight moment, but I’ll let you discover that for yourself.
Dolly isn’t something we haven’t seen before — and that’s the point. It’s not a deep film, and it doesn’t have to be. The new generation of horror fans might say it’s not “elevated,” but that’s okay. Sometimes you just want a throwback to when handcrafted films took a small amount of money and made something big. Dolly is a love letter to those simpler, practical times.
