Movie Review: Chloë Grace Moretz Learns a Valuable Lesson About Stranger Danger in "Greta"

They say a stranger’s just a friend you haven’t met. Not in Greta they’re not.

A young woman, having only lived in New York City for a short time, finds a mysterious handbag on the subway, and returns it to the address she finds on the driver’s licence, belonging to Greta Hideg.

This is the incident that kicks off director Neil Jordan’s Greta, and the first of many choices made by Chloë Grace Moretz’s character, Frances, that will inspire audiences to react with an exasperated, albeit sympathetic, "Oh, honey." We’re told Frances just moved here from Boston. You’d think, given her good-hearted rube persona, she’d actually emigrated from a production of Our Town instead.

I suppose that’s why Frances goes to Greta’s tucked-away house, rather than a public place, and accepts an offer to stay for a coffee, instead of leaving immediately at a full sprint, like a sane person. Greta is played by a deliriously off-kilter Isabelle Huppert, and let me tell you, that does not make Frances’ decision-making skills appear any more reasonable.

After hearing a sob-story about Greta’s late husband, Frances offers to help her adopt a dog. They trade phone numbers, and, for a minute, Greta fills a maternal gap for Frances. But, if you’ve ever seen a movie before, you can probably predict that Greta is not all that she seems. Frances doesn’t cotton on as quickly, likely because she really hasn’t seen a movie before. At least not a talkie.

Of course, a horror protagonist is meant to be a few steps behind the viewer; us awaiting the inevitable is what creates dread, duh. Still, I’m not sure Greta’s forehead-slapping moments are entirely by design. Extreme moments of violence are played for laughs, while some attempts at genuine tension (like an illogical and extremely slow foot chase) inspire unintended chuckles. Jordan—who is co-credited with writing the screenplay alongside Ray Wright—seems to be approaching this cat-and-mouse thriller with some serious side-eye. The thing is, Greta pretends to be better than the cheap thrills of the stalker genre without always hitting its basic beats.

Is it meant to be parody? Is it meant to be camp? Is it, umm, entertaining? I can only answer that last question with some certainty, and even then, my answer is qualified: Kind-of?

Moretz is, as usual, technically proficient, anchoring Frances and her litany of mistakes. However, her co-stars operate in different tonal universes. Maika Monroe, as Frances’ worldly roommate, can’t muster any visible concern while being hunted herself; Colm Feore, as Frances’ dad, has to deliver all his dialogue over the phone, mid-business meeting and, in one instance, while dictating a letter to his secretary. Sometimes, I think it’s meant to be funny—especially when Huppert goes full Hannibal Lecter and lets her freak flag fly—yet then there’s Moretz, dripping with sincerity. I felt like screaming the same thing at Jordan as Frances eventually screams at Greta: What do you want from me?

Maybe all you need to know about Greta is that it’s rated MA15+ in Australia, with consumer advice I’ve never seen before: "Strong injury detail." That’s extremely accurate while being vague enough to not inspire projectile vomit from a passing reader. Greta sure goes there. Should we? Eh.

2.5/5

In cinemas 28 February. Rated MA15+ for strong injury detail.

Header Image: Universal Pictures