Joseph Kahn is cornering the market on 2000s-kid horror. Ick is a fast-paced, pop-punk blasting remix of The Blob meets Invasion of the Body Snatchers with sweetened gateway intentions. Those who adore Kahn’s Detention (like myself) might feel a spiritual connection, especially with an Aaron David Johnson cameo (Sander Sanderson himself). Like with most Kahn flicks, you’ll quickly determine if you’re the correct audience for the prolific music video director’s energetic styles. Those who don’t mind twenty different needle drops in three minutes will bop along as a nondescript entity doubles as suburbia malaise. Khan’s four-for-four (in my opinion), but I’m also a sucker for an A+ Creed drop.
Brandon Routh stars as Eastbrook High School science teacher Hank Wallace, the former star quarterback whose collegiate dreams vanished so he became another immobile local. His dad’s dead, he still drives the same rusted car from his golden years, and he’s desperately single — Hank is your prototypical townie. The only thing interesting about his life is a tentacle-like presence engulfing the world, but no one seems bothered. The “Ick” is a part of everyone’s lives, a plant-like organism that wants people never to leave Eastbrook. But, when the Ick finally starts activating aggressively, Hank can finally find heroic meaning and save his maybe-daughter Grace (Malina Pauli Weissman) from Eastbrook’s intertwined invader.
The vibe is silly and saccharinely sentimental, coming from Kahn — a father — who wanted to create exciting horror content that’s age-appropriate for younger viewers. It’s geared toward a “Teen Screams” audience and conveys dialogue like reading Twitter thread outputs (stop trying to make X happen). Characters fire lines like assault rounds, much like Kahn’s time-traveling bear flick Detention, which can cause exhaustion. As you’re trying to decipher how many viral hashtags Kahn roasts in a single conversation, some of the references might whiz right by. That’s the overwhelming nature about a Joseph Kahn movie, which can be a generational blocker for demographics — but not the one intended for this coming-of-age creature feature.
Ick is jam-packed with Generation Now references per Kahn’s writing style, as jokes are layered anywhere possible. Within Eastbrook High, Grace’s faux nice-guy boyfriend Dylan (Harrison Cone) bemoans the patriarchy as a wooing tactic, while PA announcements mention “Cancel Club” or some other socially skewering reference. Khan anchors Ick from Hank’s perspective, but humor derives from the elder’s inability to keep up with today’s standards. Dylan represents an especially hatable subject as a manipulator who takes advantage of “woke culture,” one of a billion references to how social media has infected adolescent behaviors and the effects that linger.
Music is vital to Ick, specifically the 2000s pop-punk era. The All-American Reject’s “Swing Swing,” Hoobastank’s “The Reason,” and Good Charllote’s “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” score Hank’s flashback introduction and set the stage for playlist hits to come. We eventually get to Creed, Whetus, and an obligatory “Hey There Delilah” usage that connects impeccably with the mood of each scene, as Kahn showcases his ability to tell stories through lyrics. Momentum is connected to the film’s compliation album approach, even as Chevelle’s “The Red” plays almost out of earshot during a more action-heavy sequence. It’s a lot, and if you’re not into incessant musical boosters, you might be annoyed — but for those of us will inevitably own “Now That’s What I Call Pop-Punk” albums too few years from now? Ick is a nostalgic treat that understands how to accentuate thematic moments with a well-placed track.
Khan isn’t exploring any newfound glory with the story’s emotional thrust. Hank never left Eastbrook because of the Ick. Grace might not leave Eastbrook because of the Ick. The Ick, as defined, has no origin — it’s just there, always looming, feeding on hopes and dreams until they’re sucked dry. Hank’s motivation throughout the film is to ensure Grace and her friends escape Eastwood and live fulfilling lives — a blatant message that Kahn delivers in his own hyperspeed way. For as dopey Hank can be, or as obnoxious the residents can become, Ick remains blindingly hopeful as a survival mechanism against complacency and small-town imprisonment.
In that hope, Khan empowers children by depicting adults as the root cause of countless issues. Eastbrook’s response to the Ick parallels COVID-19 conspiracy quacks, reciting everything from vaccine deniers to Darwinism preachers. Kahn loves mocking modern idiocracies as townsfolk find their lives inconvenienced by a threat they refuse to take seriously or prevent against. A particularly hilarious government forum within a Wal-Mart knockoff sees football coaches and gossipy homemakers refuse to acknowledge a material expert because their rights are being infringed upon, or they claim the Ick is an inside conspiracy. All anyone has to do is stay inside to stay alive, yet Eastbrook demands they be allowed to live like nothing is wrong — where have we seen that selfish thought process fail miserably before? [Stares in “the pandemic is still ongoing” real hard.]
Then there’s the Ick itself, restricted to digital designs. It’s a disappointing (but understood) choice when pixelation isn’t fully blended into football fields or sprouting from the pavement, looking like 1998’s The Faculty now in the year 2024. Khan’s direct allusions to The Blob aren’t always favorable, considering how both sci-fi classics create their outer-space foes by hand. Khan’s effusive use of computerized effects misses some magic as the Ick snakes and evolves like some Venom symbiote meets Groot. Greenscreens and animation are pivotal to Ick’s success, but that doesn’t negate their sporadically dodgy presentations on the screen, especially because plenty of the Ick’s kills are awfully damn vicious for its bloodless PG-13 rating.
Ick might not be a perfect experience, but neither is life. Khan understands his demographic and makes sure to appeal to their sensibilities. Keep it snappy and fully charged, then bump on another jukebox song when in doubt. Routh’s corny-as-shit protective father is the hero Ick deserves, which says enough about the film’s sense of humor. It’s one of those films where you keep pace or get left behind because Kahn’s always thinking of the next gag. Ick probably won’t be the flick that wins you over if you’re a Joseph Kahn hater, but for those who need to hear its message, Ick’s destined to become one of your favorite sleepover movies to show friends without Mom getting too mad.
Movie Score: 3.5/5
