The art of the "crowd pleaser" is alive and well in Christopher Landon's noose-tight Drop. Writers Jillian Jacobs and Chris Roach pen a clever blend of technological paranoia and first-date anxieties in a one-location pressure cooker. The vibe is deliciously tense: think Grand Piano or Red Eye. Alfred Hitchcock is smiling on Down, and with good reason—it's tight, intense, and pure popcorn entertainment. Landon's latest is why we go to the movies: adrenaline-fueled escapism.
Meghann Fahy stars as Violet, a single Chicagoian mother with a traumatic past. After chatting with Brandon Sklenar's bachelor (Henry) via a dating app for a few months, she finally agrees to an in-person date. After some wardrobe advice from "Auntie" Jen (Violett Beane), she's ready to leave her son Toby (Jacob Robinson) and heads to Palate—a swanky 38th-floor fine dining establishment. After a few minutes at the bar, Henry arrives, and they're escorted to their window-view table. Violet is ready to tackle her first date in forever, but the evening turns into a nightmare when an unknown user starts "dropping" threats to her smart phone.
In an age where our digital footprint and online access have skyrocketed, Drop examines a specific and terrifying phenomenon. Anyone can "drop" files onto your device and remain anonymous. In Violet's case, "Let's Play" starts harmlessly enough with custom memes but then graduates to dangerous instructions and direct threats to Toby's life. Violet is a player in this lockbox challenge, told to remain in the restaurant and keep Henry unaware (or her sister and son are executed). Landon's back is against the wall in terms of storytelling motivations, stuck in a dining room, but his direction is razor-sharp in a way that keeps tension at a constant simmer.
Fahy and Sklenar are a match made in heaven as nervous daters caught in a game of cyber wits. All the hallmarks of first meetups are there—the darting eyes, (hopefully) cute jokes, and admissions of rusty social cues. Fahy's given a heavier lift as the overprotective mother and newly selected agent of chaos, but Sklenar has more to do than steam up the screen. Violet's continued string of deception and strange requests are met with suspicious compassion by Henry, a photographer who keeps his camera bag close by. Sklenar wants us to remain cautious of his stranger despite oozing soft-eyed charms, while Fahy does a tremendous job as an unwilling participant in someone's deadly game.
It's the little details about Drop that make it so enjoyable. Palate is a bustling, breathing location explicitly built for the film that's devoured by Marc Spicer's cinematography. It's a unique ecosystem filled with red herrings, from protective bartenders to shady customers—suspects in Violet's whodunit. Characters like Jeffery Self's plucky improv-actor waiter or Reed Diamond's "comrade in the first date trenches" make Palate feel more lived-in. But Drop is also endearingly sweet, whether Henry brings Violet a present for Toby (Chekov's hockey puck) or the calmness with which Henry meets Violet's erratic behaviors. As conspiratorial and devilish the film becomes, it's also adorable and comical (poor Matt's dealing with customers from hell, after all).
The technicalities of Drop's plot require viewers to roll with the punches, but not as a distraction. Landon oversees a web of intrigue in how Violet is manipulated, from the "DigiDrop" app used to deliver mini missions, to the unseen villain's takeover of surveillance cameras. Big Brother is always watching Violet as she struggles to find any dead spot where she can attempt to signal for help. Henry's patience is a bit unbelievable at times (as someone currently navigating the online dating hellscape), and sure, there's a ludicrousness about certain things that happen in the third act. Still, Landon ensures the film's tone works with such “silly” elements. Drop is a wild ride that wants you to gasp and howl—you're here for the energy boost and audacity, which endures. The convenience of certain plot elements matters less when you're having a blast (but they're there).
Phrases like white-knuckled, viciously streamlined, and excitingly to the punch describe Landon's standout romantic thriller. Drop gets the blood flowing and the mind racing, packing a Hitchcockian punch that respects its mighty influences. Fahy and Sklenar are dynamite, shouldering an immense weight as partners in a devious, delicate, wit-forward dance. Plain and simple, it's a fantastic time at the movies—the easiest type of recommendation.
Movie Score: 3.5/5
Matt Donato is a Los Angeles-based film critic currently published on SlashFilm, Fangoria, Bloody Disgusting, and anywhere else he’s allowed to spread the gospel of Demon Wind. He is also a member of the Critics Choice Association. Definitely don’t feed him after midnight.
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