Learning in the Ever-Grasping Arms of 'Buddy'

Learning in the Ever-Grasping Arms of 'Buddy' Quinn Bilodeau It's a hard world for little things, especially when it's overseen by a temperamental orange unicorn. Children tend to develop an early relationship with television through educational programming. The lead characters open a dialogue of sorts by speaking to us through the screen, and to them, we always say the right thing. While these shows aren't made with sinister intentions, their unreality can take on a slightly unnerving quality as we get older, especially in programs featuring cute mascot ringleaders. There comes a day when we reject the illusion outright. "Buddy" makes for one of the year's most surprising horror movies because it presents a scenario where the mascot cannot only see you, but becomes upset when you deviate from his carefully orchestrated regiment. Casper Kelly's third feature film drops us headfirst into a nostalgic '90s children's program where the master of learning is an anthropomorphic orange unicorn named Buddy, voiced by Keegan-Michael Key and portrayed by Sergey Zhuravsky, who comes to life when the children call out his name. In addition to being (as the surprisingly catchy theme song states) the king of fun and games, Buddy also teaches them lessons about cleaning up and trying new things. The show is mostly a visual amalgamation of "Barney," "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" and "Pee-Wee's Playhouse." When an agitated kid named Josh (Luke Speakman) refuses to join the dance party, he disappears from the show entirely, with Buddy telling the rest of the group that he's set off for the realm of Diamond City. The other children (stunningly played by Delaney Quinn, Caleb Williams, Tristan Borders and Madison Polan) find it suspicious yet chalk it up to a simple misunderstanding in order to avoid a confrontation. But when Buddy's violent tendencies reveal themselves in a less ambiguous manner, they set out to escape their televisual prison. It may not be enough. Kelly built his career at Adult Swim on projects that warped familiar concepts into something darker. They're effective in what they set out to do because he approaches the material through sincerity. One could feasibly envision a world where "Buddy" was a real show you watched as a kid, and then memory-holed as an adult. Presented in a fuzzy 4:3 aspect ratio, the "It's Buddy" portions take place inside an aggressively lit space that's made to look like a faux neighborhood set, complete with a playground, nurse's office, treehouse and central house. The familiarity is the point, which only makes it more alarming when the show's expected beats are either delayed or don't come at all. "Buddy" isn't just a children's show gone wrong, but an odyssey about kids being forced to grow up way too soon. That's where Keegan-Michael Key's best performance comes into play. Buddy's physical appearance is very warm and huggable. His vitriol for their disobedience only comes out in short bursts, with an emphasis on passive aggressive commentary directed toward those who dare defy him. It's very funny to see him try and walk it back whenever he knows he took a step too far. But for as much as it makes you laugh, there's a genuinely unsettling menace you can't quite shake. It clicks in a sequence about halfway through the film where Kelly parallels the titular half-charred unicorn with Robert Mitchum. At this point, the kids have escaped to a letterboxed forest beyond the fence housing the show, with the intention of making it to the Emerald City-inspired Diamond City. Just when they think they've escaped him, they see a shadowed Buddy in the distance walking with an ax in an attempt to lure them out. The shot is a very clear homage to the Southern Gothic horror film "The Night of the Hunter," in which Mitchum's malicious Preacher Harry Powell is seen riding in his carriage on the horizon, all while the children he's chasing look on in horror. It recontextualizes Key's whole performance, and what Kelly's attempting to say. Both Buddy and Powell weaponize their charm to assert their abusive authorial dominance in a way that only the children can see through. The adults within their vicinity, meanwhile, can't see through him until it's too late to do anything. Kelly and co-writer Jamie King have a knack for making you feel the absence people leave behind. Buddy may carry over Kelly's Adult Swim-branded gallows humor as the verbally and physically abusive unicorn puts these frightened children through all manner of harm's way. But when the laughs stop, that absence is felt directly, much like when Grace releases a guttural scream for the empty chair of a person no one remembers but her. "Buddy" is now playing in theaters nationwide.