Written by Bradley Fowler and Cady Lanigan

Directed by Matthew Goodhue

US and Serbia/2023/15/93mins

Sharks, drug-addicted bears, flocks of birds and enough dogs to fill a shelter or three, but when thinking of terrifying, monstrous, and quick-natured killers – one animal makes it to the very bottom of the list: Sloths.

Or so you would think. 

Many asking how in Slotherhouse, a three-toed sloth makes it close enough to a suburban setting to cause carnage will enjoy the mockumentary opening that closely emulates a twisted version of Planet Earth in which a particularly aggressive sloth takes out a full-grown crocodile. Poached and ready to be sold on the exotic pet market, this little furry bundle of butchery makes it into the hands of Emily (Lisa Ambalavanar), who (for whatever reason) thinks bringing a sloth into her life will make her a social-media influencer star, where it quickly becomes the new sorority mascot of the house; cute, cuddly, and not-at-all dangerous. Oh, how wrong the sisters of Sigma Lamba Theta (SLH, get it?) house are. 

When the film gets something right, it tends to hit the mark in its ridiculously cheesy horror vibe, complete with nightmarish (oddly impressive) puppetry. The pint-sized murderous sloth, now named Alpha, manages a lot given the species’ penchant for being sluggish, though it can’t fill the entire ninety-minute runtime before powering down, even when there’s enough in Bradley Fowler’s screenplay to engage willing audiences with a suspension of disbelief who are happy to revel themselves in puns, puppets, and a few choice moments of violence.

When a film centres its themes around the wordplay for ‘slaughter’, viewers are hoping for some creative and fresh massacres to ramp up the kill count. Slotherhouse finds itself skirting the edges of the more inventive kill-offs – a shame given that it already has a unique presence with the concept, as Matthew Goodhue’s direction bounces traditional horror conventions with an amusing flourish and tongue-in-cheek manner; never has such a slow-moving killer been so terrifying and hilarious at the same time. Matting their fur with blood, plenty of it, there’s plenty of playful trickery of lighting and frame-work to pay homage to classic slasher flicks. However, the puppetry often leaves Alpha (literally) clinging on touch after the killing blow should be struck, or simply adding them into a frame of a less than interesting ‘pushed out the window’ kill. 

There’s an energetic and dedicated cast behind the film – Sydney Craven, who recently shifted from the likes of Eastenders to parts in Baldur’s Gate 3 and the Jeeper’s Creepers reboot, has the greatest presence as the film’s secondary antagonist and all-around bitchy Mean Girls sorority president Brianna. The key strength in their performance is that while much of the other cast is performing Slotherhouse as a comedy, Craven and co-star Lisa Ambalavanar treat the three-toed killer like any genuine slasher baddie, with Craven providing some excellent scream queen moments of terror. 

A likeable protagonist, Ambalavanar runs through the film’s multiple fake-out final kills with the same dedication from the first, so credit is due here. By the time that Alpha has moved from massacre to sadistic selfies and social-media games, viewers will have committed to the bit, or have dipped over to the nature channel. But try and hang around for Olivia Rouyre’s later exploits as Emily’s best friend, Madison, the only sane character in the place, who puts up a good fight against Alpha’s sadistic murders. 

Slotherhouse falls short of similar preposterous murderous animal films, where the likes of Cocaine Bear manage to balance inventive killing sprees with off-the-wall ridiculousness, Goodhue’s direction finds a less fluid balance going between the two, and unfortunately lives to the titular creature’s name of being a touch too slow in moments and doesn’t give it enough welly or lean into the giddiness of the premise enough. What Slotherhouse does get right, after it’s so bonkers it works killer, is a touch of comedy – you haven’t really laughed until you’ve seen a sloth wielding a katana, or angrily slamming a laptop closed – and some engagingly energetic performances and side characters who don’t let the conceptual oddities get in the way of solid performances. 

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