Taboo

A spoiler light review of Taboo should begin with tone, because Max Makowski understands exactly how this horror film ought to feel. Taboo gains early credibility from Nick Stahl, whose presence is balanced by the different rhythm of Eddie Kaye Thomas. The foundation of Taboo can be stated simply: While staying at a secluded mansion, six young adults reveal their personal demons during an innocent game called Taboo. Within its 1h 20m running time, Taboo reveals both the benefits and the limits of that disciplined approach.

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What keeps Taboo emotionally readable is Nick Stahl, whose choices establish a consistent point of view. In scenes with Eddie Kaye Thomas, Taboo gains tension from two performers refusing to produce the same kind of energy. January Jones contributes a separate rhythm to Taboo and helps the supporting material feel less purely functional. The direction by Max Makowski gives the cast of Taboo room to connect the quieter beats with the larger ones.

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Max Makowski gives Taboo a directorial line that is unable to turn workable ingredients into a stable rhythm from its opening promise to its final movement. The staging of Taboo is strongest when Max Makowski allows motivation to determine pace instead of reversing that priority. Viewed as a complete piece, Taboo confirms that the premise retains appeal even when the finished film struggles across most of the running time. A tighter version of Taboo would address how explanation repeatedly takes the place of discovery, yet the surrounding work remains persuasive.

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The craft of Taboo is defined by patiently built dread, supported by patiently built dread rather than overwhelmed by decoration. Creative Entertainment Group gives Taboo a production framework in which carefully rationed sound can remain connected to story. Made from a United States production context, Taboo uses setting and design to clarify mood before dialogue has to explain it. The technical finish of Taboo works because image, sound and editing appear to be serving the same immediate purpose.

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The plot of Taboo is built around the uneasy relationship between Taboo and the central character. For Nick Stahl, that relationship gives Taboo an emotional objective stronger than simple forward motion. The screenplay associated with Eric Drilling lets an important relationship reshape the direction of Taboo in stages. Although the treatment of a difficult choice could be sharper, Taboo never entirely loses the thread established at the beginning.

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Taboo finds additional purpose in its examination of fear, isolation and the moment familiar spaces stop feeling safe. Through the performance of Nick Stahl, Taboo makes that examination feel personal before it becomes broadly symbolic. The idea of Taboo repeatedly returns Taboo to the cost behind its more visible developments. Max Makowski is most persuasive when Taboo allows the theme to emerge from an uncomfortable choice rather than polished dialogue.

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Taboo ends as a missed opportunity rather than a complete failure, especially for horror viewers who prefer atmosphere to constant shocks. What remains from Taboo is the relationship between Nick Stahl, patiently built dread and Max Makowski's control of mood. The weakness that explanation repeatedly takes the place of discovery narrows the impact of Taboo without cancelling its better work. On balance, Taboo gives its intended viewers a distinctive experience rather than a completely anonymous piece of content.