Confused but cunning, Bodies Bodies Bodies starts off on the wrong foot but slowly and surely finds its voice amongst its angsty cinematic look and compelling cast, only to slip before reaching the summit.

I’ve never truly understood the turbulent relationship between comedy and horror; one genre tries to split your sides with gags and humour while the other gags you, opens you up from the sides, and torturously pulls out your humerus in the most serious way possible. I can never enjoy their oxymoronic intentions unless there is a heavy leaning towards the light-hearted attitude while the hockey masks and hacksaws are kept as thematic references (Shaun of the Dead or the more poignant example, Scary Movie). Halina Reijn’s English directorial debut chooses a more equal marriage, dread leading the way while keeping the odd gallows crack for company.

Like any other comical-but-horror-focused film, there is an immediate tonal disparity which, when combined with the Gen Z-styled writing and neon-infused Euphoria visuals, is a steep mountain to climb. Not because these properties feel intrinsic, but because beneath the emphasis on aesthetic there is a stereotypical horror formula, complete with hollow characters, dubiously direct dialogue, and a smattering of teen lingo that tends to sound like an adult reading a 14-year-old’s Instagram bio. I couldn’t help but compare it to The Quarry, an acclaimed cinematic game that follows a tropey trail of trepidation flawed by its rigid lines and uncinematic flow.

But as the group of unlikable and expectant rich teens (and one middle-aged boyfriend) play drunken parlour games amidst a storm – conveniently killing their reception – they become more likeable; more lifelike. While still following the same recipe, the cast change gear once the first dead body shows up, their faces carved with fear and terror rather than the placid marble busts they had been before. The script sticks to its awkward guns but revels in the pandemonium as the locked-in druggies Cluedo their way to the killer, leaving a trail of bodies behind them.

The whodunnit aspect doesn’t add another dimension but does sweeten the thrills, the element of suspense pushing the simple narrative along. Where I first felt old and jaded by the incongruous attempts at 2020’s slang, or deterred by the obvious clichés (oh no, I left the lights on in the car and now it won’t start!), I began to ponder on the murderer’s identity as I sifted through all the red herrings. Is it going to be the obvious ex-girlfriend Jordan (Myha’la Herrold) or maybe a curveball: the seemingly innocent protagonist Bee (Maria Bakalova) a killer after all?

The truth is much simpler, more foreseeable, and hard to accept after one fateful scene roughly three fourths into the film. Half the group have met their fate so every surviving character begins to point as many fingers as possible while on the verge of a panic attack. As they argue, they throw the urban dictionary at each other, bringing back all the faux ‘woke’ that I had felt earlier, this time worse with every buzz word. It was hard to see through it when I first felt the disconnection, its crashing return an unwanted reunion that confuses the pacing and mood of a somewhat dark but quirky climax – an hesitant finale to a film that is already unsure of what it wants to be.