Horror is a Human Being: Exploring Kevin Smith’s TUSK
By Justin Drabek
It would be an understatement to call Tusk (2014) a divisive film. Some love it, while others do not. I fall on the side of loving it, and each time I revisit it, I find more to appreciate with every viewing. This was the first film Kevin Smith made after Red State (2011), his initial foray into the world of horror. Tusk takes it a step further, albeit with a seemingly absurd premise. The film’s origin is rooted in a conversation on Smith’s podcast, Smodcast, with his friend and former producer, Scott Mosier.
In episode 237, “The Carpenter and The Walrus,” Smith and Mosier discuss an ad they found online from a man in Brighton, England, seeking a lodger under the bizarre condition that, for two hours a day, the lodger would dress in a walrus suit, make walrus noises, and eat fish fed to them by the man. What started as a humorous exchange between friends led to the creation of Tusk. Eventually, the ad was revealed to be a hoax by a Brighton prankster, who Smith later brought on as an associate producer for the film. The entire situation feels serendipitous — if the ad had been for any other animal, it’s likely the film would have never come to be, and perhaps Kevin Smith’s filmmaking career might have ended there. The decision to choose a walrus sparked the creation of Tusk, and a subsequent resurgence in Smith’s career.
The film centers on a lonely, mysterious old man named Howard Howe (Michael Parks), who lives in a foreboding, castle-like house in Manitoba, Canada. Wallace Bryton (Justin Long), a podcaster, discovers Howe’s handwritten ad in the bathroom of a bar and decides to visit after his original interview falls through. Howe, wheelchair-bound, has plenty of fascinating stories to share, but as the conversation unfolds, it becomes clear that Howe has sinister plans for Wallace. The film’s first act, with its tense and atmospheric setup, is reminiscent of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, where the viewer is unsure of the host’s true nature. These moments, though slow, are chilling and off-putting. Smith’s ability to craft tension is evident, even in the simplest of scenes where two people are just talking.
Tusk then shifts into Stephen King’s Misery-like territory when Howe psychologically tortures Wallace, gaslighting him into believing there is no escape. Tusk stands out in its quieter, more unsettling moments. The horror comes not from the grotesque body horror that follows but from the emotional manipulation and the vulnerability of human trust. Justin Long shines in these scenes, particularly in the moments when Wallace realizes how nonsensical Howe’s stories are and how deep his predicament has become. These are some of the most powerful moments in the film, revealing the true horror of the situation. Tusk stands as one of the few films that let you sit with a serial killer and his victim, showcasing a strength in storytelling often absent in horror films. Letting things breathe is such a fantastic choice by Smith and Company during this section of the film; the terror is emphasized and highlighted even if the words aren’t overtly horrific.
The body horror, though disturbing, doesn’t overshadow the emotional terror at play. Howe has been repeating this process across Canada, turning his victims into grotesque walruses. We meet Guy Lapointe (Johnny Depp), an uncredited character who is investigating Howe. Through flashbacks, Lapointe recalls his eerie encounter with Howe. This segment, too, carries the influence of Misery, as Howe manipulates the investigating officer with his lies and eccentric behavior, highlighting the subtle power of words to control others.
Tusk features my favorite scene in any film, involving Genesis Rodriguez, who plays Wallace’s girlfriend, Ally. Early in the film, we see Wallace’s manipulative behavior toward Ally as he uses his words to control her opinion of him, much like Howe manipulates Wallace. However, the film takes a poignant turn during a scene where Ally speaks directly to the camera, revealing her knowledge of Wallace’s infidelities and lies. As tears fall down her face, she admits to her pain and the guilt she feels. It is one of the most human moments in the film — raw, vulnerable, and deeply emotional. In an October Chronicon panel I attended this fall, Rodriguez shared that the scene was written the day of the shoot and filmed in one take. Smith had written a monologue for her, but it’s her performance that truly elevates the scene, making it one of the most memorable moments of the film.
The use of storytelling in the film is its greatest strength, as so much of the movie revolves around one character talking to another. Dialogue has always been a key element of any Kevin Smith film, but in this one, it truly serves as the core of the narrative. Each moment of the story is carefully crafted, with every exchange of words driving the plot forward. Tensions rise and fall as characters engage in their storytelling, creating an atmosphere where emotions and stakes are built solely through conversation. It’s a masterclass in how dialogue can shape the ebb and flow of a film, making it captivating without relying on action-heavy scenes.
While the film can seem chaotic at times, each revisit only deepens your connection to the world that Kevin Smith has created. The more you watch, the more you’re drawn into its unique atmosphere. The performances feel raw and authentic, adding a layer of sincerity that enhances the overall experience. Kevin Smith has really found his footing in the horror genre, and with his two films in this space, it’s clear he has a talent for making the genre thrive. I hope he continues to explore horror in future projects, as his distinctive voice brings something fresh and intriguing to it.
Smith’s ability to adapt to a situation is one of his greatest strengths as a filmmaker. Tusk is a perfect example of how adaptation can lead to unexpected greatness. The film is a little horror gem that explores the darkness that can lie within the human heart and it’s a testament to Smith’s growth as a filmmaker, proving that he can transcend his roots and create something deeply unsettling. 🩸
About
Justin Drabek is a contributing writer for Manor Vellum. He also writes for Horror Obsessive and formerly for Killer Horror Critic. He loves cats, and dogs seem to like him…he’s not so sure about them.
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