Review: ‘Mr. Crocket,’ a demented Mister Rogers

We live in the age of nostalgia. From television reboots of Boy Meets World to long-awaited movie sequels like Hocus Pocus 2, the ’90s are all the rage these days. We can’t move forward without looking back. New and original IPs (e.g. I Saw the TV Glow, Video Vision, etc.) bank hard on that unshakable yearning to entice horror audiences to relive their cherished childhoods. You can count Brandon Espy’s Mr. Crocket as part of that trend, as it takes classic kids’ programs (namely Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood) and reapplies the concept with startling imagery. Where the practical effects, from the gore to maniacal puppets, strike fear down to the bone, the narrative lacks enough drive to take it over the finish line. Instead, it sputters and leaves the audience wanting so much more.

Based on a six-minute short of the same name, Mr. Crocket tells the tale of a dead TV personality who snatches kids through their television sets. Set in 1994, the film journeys through the minds of troubled kids who’ve been hurt by their parents. When Major (Ayden Gavin) is abducted through a glittering door of pink TV static, his mother Summer (Jerrika Hinton) plots a scheme to save her son in any way she can. After some totally essential microfiche investigation, she turns to a man named Anthony (Alex Akpobome), who survived a kidnapping back in the ’70s, and homeless woman Rhonda (Kristolyn Lloyd) for help. Together, they climb through to the other side in a vain attempt to rescue not only Major but a group of missing children.

Espy, who co-wrote the script with Carl Reid, taps into parents’ collective fears — of not being enough for their children, of failing them, and (most importantly) of losing them to some deranged grabber. In the context of the 1990s, almost the Wild West of parenting, missing children often saw their photos plastered on milk cartons or telephone poles. There was an immense sense of danger and dread that permeated much of middle America, especially when the likes of John Wayne Gayce and other serial killers roamed the streets. Espy excavated this reality to plant the audience directly into the terror that swept across the country back in those days. While positioned in another time and place, Espy’s story takes on a universal appeal that transcends those strict boundaries. That fear is universal and timeless. In the social media age, not much has changed; literal monsters are reaching through cellphone screens to ensnare kids and lure them away from their parents. That’s a kind of fear you just can’t squelch.

Throughout Mr. Crocket, Espy uses the charm of popular children’s television (Barney, PeeWee’s Playhouse, among others), often a replacement for actual parenting, to attract older viewers to relive their youth. Within the film’s brightly colored folds, audiences just might find that nostalgic release that hits all the sweet spots. And younger viewers might find themselves hypnotized by the knock-out gateway horror that doesn’t skimp on the carnage candy that guarantees midnight terrors. Elvis Nolasco, as the title character, kills the role, quite literally, with a chipper and completely unhinged portrayal of a psychopath whose bloodlust masks his intentions of saving children from their evil parents.

But where the film excels with bringing the deranged underworld to life, it lacks in creative drive and narrative punch. Mr. Crocket flounders by the third act, when there are no real stakes and characters are never really in any danger. The script may have worked better as a short film but lacks the depth and range to warrant a full-length feature. Even Nolasco’s manic and bedeviling performance can’t keep the ship from sinking. It’s disheartening to see such a brilliant idea unable to rev its engines beyond first gear.

Elvis Nolasco delivers one of the year’s best performances; too bad everything surrounding him lacks bite and purpose. Mr. Crocket ultimately gets lost in itself and tests the audience’s patience until it snaps. In the end, you’re only left with a series of unfortunate events.

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