If Dave Grohl wants to make a horror-comedy film, who are we to stop him? The man is a force of rock’n’roll nature, and when this kind of person — you know, the one who’s spent the past 30-odd years shovelling his own blood, sweat and tears into some of the planet’s biggest bands — sets about doing something, it feels like there’s little you can do to prevent it.
Which is roughly the reason why we’ve ended up with Studio 666, a feature film starring Grohl and his Foo Fighters bandmates as fictionalised versions of themselves. Keen to find a new, out-there studio to record their landmark 10th album, we follow Dave and the guys as they move into an abandoned LA mansion to lay down the new music. Things swiftly get spooky.
It is, to an extent, inspired by real-life events. The band did in fact move into a big, 1940s house in the Encino neighbourhood of LA back in 2019, to record their Medicine at Midnight record, and were subjected to some ostensibly paranormal shenanigans; inexplicably detuned guitars, missing recordings, dodgy vibes, and the like. Grohl claims to have caught something strange on film, too, but thanks to a non-disclosure agreement signed at the request of the house’s landlord, we’ll sadly never see the footage.
Whatever happened IRL, it all seems rather tame compared to the various decapitations, demonic possessions and chainsaw dismemberments that soon afflict the band in the film, as they try to rid themselves of an inadvertently liberated evil spirit. It soon starts to feel like the filmic conclusion of a “what if…?” conversation among the band that, facilitated by industry connections and large piles of cash, got rather out of hand. And that’s because it basically is.
It seems only fair to say at this point that the film clearly isn’t trying to be the spiritual successor to Get Out. It’s knowingly goofy, blatantly Spinal Tap-ish and about as tropey as a horror film can get (John Carpenter did the theme song and makes a cameo, after all). The script is very “eat a bag of dicks” this and “f*** you, motherf***er” that, and the comedy is proudly puerile, as the joke one band member makes about having sex with another’s gran neatly proves.
It’s not without its charms. Grohl’s on-stage magnetism more or less translates onto the screen, and his bandmates aren’t as wooden as you might fear (guitarist Pat Smear does the best horror movie scream, if you were wondering). And without ruining the surprise, a cameo from a music legend makes for one of the best gags of the entire film.
But that’s basically the problem here — if this was exactly the same film, but without any of the famous musicians in it, you would probably switch it off halfway through. The plot is all over the place with holes aplenty, the CGI is a bit naff, and most of the jokes don’t land. Bar the odd jump-scare, you’ll never feel more than vaguely perturbed either.
Sure, it’s fun to see Grohl getting all demon-y, and the gore is turned up to 11, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into (one kill involving a drum kit is particularly memorable). But by the time we reach the scene where two characters are just repeatedly kicking each other in the testicles, you can feel the last drops of goodwill evaporating.
The film looks as if it was an absolute hoot to make, and it’s hard to begrudge Grohl et al for having a laugh with it. But is this the beginning of Foo Fighters turning their attentions away from albums and tours to movies and Oscars? No fear.
