Joseph Kahn has always been a director with a strong, unmistakable style. Since his last feature, the overlooked gem Bodied from 2018, he has returned often to the world where he first made his name: music videos. He has worked with Taylor Swift, Maroon 5, Nicki Minaj, Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz, and many others. Short form filmmaking fits his instincts. He is a master at stitching images to sound, cutting in time with the beat, and driving momentum through rapid editing. That pulse carries over into his features too. He loves to let the camera move with the music and the rhythm of the scene. It can be thrilling to watch. In his latest film Ick, though, that same energy collides with a pile of ambitions that do not sit comfortably together. The result is a movie that moves fast, looks slick, nods to the past, chases big ideas, and still ends up feeling oddly hollow.
On one level, Ick wants to honor creature features and teen horror from earlier decades. It reaches back to the tone and texture of late nineties and early 2000s pop culture, that easier feeling of youth and community before the world felt like it was constantly splitting apart. On another level, it wants to comment on the present. It carries an unmistakable COVID era metaphor at its core. A mysterious threat emerges, people underestimate it, and institutions struggle to handle it. There are hints at the way we collectively ignore problems until they explode. There is a sense that the movie is asking why we go about our lives while danger grows right under our feet. These are compelling starting points. The trouble is that the film tries to juggle homage, nostalgia, satire, and social commentary inside a single hyperactive package. The tone slips. The commentary often feels loud but not deep. You feel the desire to say many things. You do not always feel the conviction behind them.
The opening grabs you right away. It plays like a music video Kahn could have directed in the early 2000s for a band in the All American Rejects lane. We meet Hank, played by Brandon Routh, at the peak of his high school life. He is the local hero. He has the looks, the moves, the arm, and the girl. Staci, played by Mena Suvari, is the queen bee of their small town world. Even her name feels like an excuse to cue up a certain catchy pop rock track from that era. Then the dream pops. Hank gets injured. Everything slows down and slides away. He loses football. He loses Staci. He loses the crown. Years later, he is back at the same high school as a science teacher, a man who once owned the halls now grading papers and reminding kids to focus. Staci moved on and had a daughter with someone else. That daughter, Grace, lands in Hank’s science class. She is played by Malina Weissman with a grounded energy. Grace knows the town is strange. She can sense the rot in the corners. She wants out, but she is still young enough to enjoy what is left of her teen years.
Then the strange thing that has been lurking in town begins to take shape. Years back, when Hank was still throwing touchdowns, there were whispers about an underground growth that people called the Ick. It looked like twisted roots at first. Harmless. Almost pretty in a sharp edged way. Then it starts to shift into something else. The Ick becomes a web of tendrils, a pulsing organism that snakes into places where it should not be. Its presence grows until it tears its way into a house party where Grace and her friends are trying to dance, drink, flirt, and feel invincible. This party sequence is the clear showcase of the film. It is where Kahn drops the leash and lets the camera sprint. Teens are pulled under, grabbed, infected, and ripped apart. Bodies contort. Faces twist. The soundtrack pumps. The scene is chaotic and cruel and deliriously staged. You feel the director in total control of his tools. He knows how to build a set piece that pops.
After the chaos, Hank is the only adult who seems to fully grasp the stakes. He understands how things spread. He understands how fast a small outbreak can become a wave you cannot contain. He tries to find a way to stop the Ick before it remakes the town into a swarm of empty eyed husks. Grace becomes his unlikely ally. She is smart and stubborn. She sees through the noise. Together they try to hold the line while the world around them either panics or shrugs.
Beneath the goo and the gags, the movie reaches for an idea that is more complicated. It keeps returning to the fact that almost no one takes the danger seriously until it is far too late. The Ick is always there, even when it is not visible. It runs through roots and pipes and memories. It finds the weak spots and waits. There is a clear comparison to the way people treated warning signs over the last decade. Not just with the pandemic, but with politics, culture wars, and the erosion of trust. We saw things fraying. We chose arguments over solutions. We scrolled and joked and shrugged. Then one morning it was not a possibility anymore. It was a reality.
The problem is that the movie often states this point instead of exploring it. You can sense the intent. You can feel the outline of a sharper satire pressing against the surface. But the film does not linger long enough with its ideas to let them land. It leaps from set piece to set piece, from needle drop to needle drop, and from gag to gag. The editing is breathless. The energy is high. The meaning gets thin. It is like listening to a pop song that keeps promising a revelation in the verse, then blasting the hook again before it ever arrives.
There are echoes of COVID debates and MAGA discourse sprinkled throughout the story. You hear lines about what is real, what is exaggerated, and who is to blame. Some townspeople wonder if the Ick is a hoax. Others want to learn to live with it. There is even a suggestion that people might find some value in letting the Ick exist if it serves their short term desires. On paper, this is a rich setup. In execution, it plays like a collection of recognizable references instead of a focused point of view.
Kahn has never been a heavy political filmmaker. He is more interested in the look and the tempo of a scene than in slow burning themes. That is not a flaw. It is a style. Here, though, it leaves a gap. You can feel him more excited about the mechanics of movement than the philosophy behind the monster. The camera does a lot of work. The cuts ricochet. A character sits down and the edit makes it feel like a stunt. Meanwhile, the ideas that should ground the horror do not deepen. The movie keeps returning to the same beats. People underestimate the Ick. The Ick proves them wrong. Cue another track from the era. Repeat.
As Ick pushes into its back half, you start to feel the repetition. The shocks repeat with minor variations. New faces show up mainly to make a point and then get chewed up. The soundtrack keeps the energy high but also underlines the pattern. The film starts to tilt toward cruelty. Look at these clueless people say foolish things. Watch them pay the price. There is an undeniable kick in that kind of dark humor, but it can become numbing if there is no new layer beneath it. If the story is going to take that bleak view of the characters and the world around them, it needs to land on an ending that reframes the cruelty or reveals a deeper purpose. This one circles the runway and never quite sticks the landing.
The cast gives the movie sparks when it slows down enough to let them work. Brandon Routh is well suited to playing a man who once looked like a hero and now feels like a version of himself without a cape. He has warmth, a touch of weariness, and a presence that makes Hank likable even when he is lost. Mena Suvari leans into the heightened tone and brings a familiar face from the era the movie idolizes. Malina Weissman is a steady anchor as Grace. She gives the film someone to root for, someone who thinks first and feels second, someone whose instincts are better than the rules around her.
The craft is crisp. The colors pop. The creature design has a slithery, root like quality that fits the theme of something growing under everything we touch. The party attack is the kind of showstopper sequence that will get passed around in clips. There are moments when the camera sings and the cut locks to a snare hit and you feel the thrill of pure style.
If you step back, though, the movie feels like a stylish cover version of older hits without the fresh arrangement that would make it its own thing. The comparison to The Blob is fair. The nod to The Faculty is even stronger. Those movies managed to balance satire, character, and shock in a way that made the payoff feel earned. Ick chases a similar blend but rarely gives its characters enough definition to make their choices matter. It shows a town but does not build a world. It sprays ideas but does not plant them.
There is a strand of nostalgia that runs through the film from start to finish. You can feel Kahn looking back on the era that shaped him as an artist. The needle drops are not just decoration. They are comfort and memory. They are the fantasy of a time when a chorus could make everything feel possible again. That longing sits at odds with the satire. The film wants to enjoy the glow of the past and shout at the failures of the present at the same time. That friction could have been fruitful. Instead, it breaks the tone.
You can admire the swing. You can enjoy the craftsmanship. You can have fun with the chaos at the party and the confident way Kahn moves bodies through space. You can cheer for a couple of clever gags and feel a grin when a familiar song slams into place. You can also walk out wondering what it was all for. The film sets up a metaphor and keeps pointing at it without opening it up. It jabs at people for being foolish and divided without giving you a new way to think about that foolishness or that division. It treats the Ick as a mirror of our worst instincts, and then it smashes the mirror again and again.
By the final stretch, you may find yourself wishing the movie would pick a lane and chase it with all of its energy. Embrace the satire and sharpen the blade. Or commit to the pure creature feature and let the set pieces build in imaginative ways. Or focus on Hank and Grace and make their bond the heart that carries the story through the noise. Instead, it tries to do all of these things. It juggles so many objects at once that none of them can settle.
There is also a fatigue that sets in when a film is edited like a never ending music video. That pulse can be intoxicating in bursts. Over two hours, it can flatten everything into the same emotional register. When every moment is cut for impact, impact loses its meaning. You need quiet and contrast to make the loud moments hit. You need character beats that breathe to make the danger feel real. Ick rarely lets itself slow down long enough to find that texture.
This does not mean the film has nothing to offer. It has style to spare. It has flashes of wit and a handful of strong performances. It will likely hit the sweet spot for viewers who want a candy coated throwback with modern references and messy goo. It will also frustrate those hoping for sharper teeth and deeper substance. It is the kind of movie that gives you a rush in a scene and leaves you with very little to hold onto once the lights come up.
If you are in the mood for a high energy monster romp with a pop radio soul, this will give you a good night in the theater. If you want a satisfying blend of social commentary, character work, and genre thrills, you might find yourself thinking about older favorites that handled that balance with more care. In the end, Ick feels like a riff on a familiar tune. It gets the hook stuck in your head. It never finds the verse that tells you why you should sing along.
Sources
[1] Movie Review: ‘Ick’ is Thin and Lifeless – InSession Film https://insessionfilm.com/movie-review-ick/
[2] Ick Review: Joseph Kahn’s Riotous, Satirical Take on the Creature … https://thefilmstage.com/tiff-review-joseph-kahns-ick-is-a-riotous-satirical-take-on-the-creature-feature/
[3] Ick Review – IGN https://www.ign.com/articles/ick-review-horror-movie
[4] ‘ICK’ – Review (Fantastic Fest) – Offscreen Central https://offscreencentral.com/2024/09/27/ick-review-fantastic-fest/
[5] ‘Ick’ Director Joseph Kahn on Crafting a Disaster Movie for 2025 https://variety.com/2025/film/news/ick-director-joseph-kahn-disaster-movie-1236463391/
[6] Ick Review: I’m This Dark Comedy Horror’s Target Audience & I … https://screenrant.com/ick-movie-review/
[7] Review: ‘Bodied,’ a Shockingly Funny Battle Rap Satire https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/01/movies/bodied-review.html
[8] ‘Ick’ Review: Brandon Routh is Super Again in Frenetic Monster Movie https://variety.com/2024/film/reviews/ick-review-joseph-kahn-1236142577/
[9] Review: Brandon Routh and Mena Suvari star in ‘Ick’ thriller https://www.digitaljournal.com/entertainment/review-brandon-routh-and-mena-suvari-star-in-ick-thriller/article
[10] ‘Bodied’ Review: Battle-Rap Comedy Fights P.C. Culture to a Draw https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-reviews/bodied-movie-review-750211/
[11] Ick (2024) – User reviews – IMDb https://www.imdb.com/title/tt31795447/reviews/
[12] Ick https://www.imdb.com/title/tt31795447/
