Back when I was a Boy Scout, we learned how to use our own pants as an emergency flotation device. It only works if you’re already wearing long pants. But what you do is rip them off, tie them around your neck and then slap the open waist through the air and into the water. Then, seal it against yourself before it takes on any water, of course. Finally, keep the pants wet. That keeps the air inside them. Theoretically, you can float with your pants around your neck for a while or at least long enough to make a difference.
I live in central Indiana, so naturally we had to practice this skill in the backyard pool of a neighboring Scout. It turns out I was pretty good at it. I’ve never been a strong swimmer. The most distinct memory I have of completing the actual swimming merit badge is the excitement I felt learning we could piss in the summer camp lake all we wanted … before the disappointment of realizing it meant my swimsuit would smell like piss the rest of the day. But I was pretty good at wearing my pants on my head. It was the most fun I’ve ever had in someone’s private pool.
Night Swim is an underwhelming horror film that never seems terribly interested in the potential of its premise. The Waller family — father Ray (Wyatt Russell), mother Eve (Kerry Condon) and their two children, Izzy (Amélie Hoeferle) and Elliot (Gavin Warren) — moves into a nice house with a swanky pool, only to slowly realize their wonderfully expensive luxury is in fact built on an evil ancient spring and haunted by the spirits it has claimed in the past. Oh, no!
The evil pool starts the family’s tenure out with some classic haunted house shenanigans: missing cats, fleeting specters, oozing liquid from all the wrong places. It eventually graduates to giving them supernatural visions of bottomless depths and goofy-looking CGI monstrosities rising from the endless submerged dark. Eventually, Ray becomes obsessed with the supposed healing powers of the water while Eve comes to learn the dark history of their lovely oasis amid her children’s suffering.
Writer-director Bryce McGuire has spoken about the story’s influence, which comes from a legitimate place of fear and dread regarding pools and water. Pools are terrifying. It’s why many jurisdictions have very important ordinances about pool fencing. Swimming in a darkened pool is unnerving. Having children near pools, even if they can swim, is anxiety-inducing. Pool parties with alcohol are ripe for accidents that can end or irreparably harm someone’s life. I’m not just listing off my own shut-in fears. These are basically the inspirations McGuire has cited in numerous interviews about the film (and the short film he made as a proof of concept a decade ago).
Unfortunately, Night Swim lacks any sequences that tap into those natural feelings, instead relying almost solely on the type of jump scares and visual spooks that define producer James Wan’s horror work. I’m generally not a Wan fan, so Night Swim already started at a disadvantage, but the premise itself is so good that I’d hoped for some meat on the bones.
The problem is that the haunted pool simply never functions as a haunted pool. It relies on misleading visions and water-based possession to get its point across. There’s very little of the pool killing anyone using its natural weapons like water recirculation vents, broken diving boards, pool cover gears or the crushing force of thousands of pounds of water volume. To McGuire’s credit, these are all present for sequences, but there’s little payoff to their inclusion. There’s a pool party sequence where nobody dies.
I understand the (classic) Amityville nature of the haunted pool; that house wasn’t particularly showy, either. But all that’s left here is a fairly mundane “bad dad” story about Ray’s inability to let his career as a baseball player be a thing of the past — he retired due to an MS diagnosis the pool seemingly heals — and an ending that deprives the characters of any real catharsis.
When I think about private pools, I can think of plenty of strange or exciting memories of spending my time in them. Nobody in Night Swim uses their pants as an emergency flotation device. Hell, nobody even pisses in the haunted pool just to teach it a lesson. The wonders a Baby Ruth could’ve done for this picture. Surely someone involved could’ve brought a unique or interesting spin on the idea into the film. Instead, there’s just a lot of mundanity and an overwhelming feeling of wasted potential.
Special features include an audio commentary with McGuire and four behind-the-scenes featurettes.