In an age where Googling the term “body cam” yields endless news articles of police body camera footage revealing excessive violence, it’s not surprising that the volatile subject matter is being addressed and explored through film. Last year’s action-thriller Black and Blue, for example, saw a rookie cop on the lam after capturing a murder by corrupt police on her body cam. Body Cam takes a different approach, slowing down the pacing for mystery and laying in a supernatural element to enhance the grim horrors of reality. While cop thrillers tend to be a dime a dozen, covering much the same ground ad nauseam, Body Cam manages to offer hard-hitting poignancy that makes up for familiarity.
Mary J. Blige stars as veteran officer Renee Lomito, easing back into work after a tragedy-induced hiatus. She’s partnered with rookie cop Danny (Nat Wolff), and her first shift back sees the pair responding to a routine traffic stop that resulted in the horrific death of a colleague. Checking the dashcam of her colleague’s patrol vehicle reveals footage of a bizarre supernatural event featuring a haunting figure, and it becomes clear that only Renee can see it. Something is targeting the cops in her unit, and it sets off a race against time to stop whatever entity is slaying cops. Of course, her investigation leads her to horrific truths with devastating consequences.
Directed by Malik Vitthal, with a screenplay by Nicolas McCarthy (The Pact, At the Devil’s Door) and Richmond Riedel, Body Cam’s mystery lies in the details here. It’s easy to guess why the supernatural entity targets police, but what exactly is it? Who is the unidentified woman (played by Anika Noni Rose) seemingly tethered to it? There’s also some mystery in how a loss in Renee’s personal life connects to the overarching story. Having an idea of what Renee is likely going to discover about her unit makes her investigation, and the film’s pacing, sag a bit as a result.
Helping to retain rooting interest is Blige’s vulnerable performance, as well as Wolff’s squirrelly take on a rookie cop increasingly unraveling as the clock winds down. The deaths are surprisingly grisly, too, ensuring the R-rating is well earned. The gorgeous cinematography by Pedro Luque (Don’t Breathe, Antebellum) enriches the gritty, urban Louisiana setting, going far to create atmosphere in a film mostly devoid of scares. Or rather, effective scares for those well-versed in horror. While there are a few jump scares, Vitthal keeps the focus on simplicity and the story elements that wind up mattering the most, meaning the horror is more of a supporting character.
If it wasn’t already clear, this is a socially conscious thriller with something specific on its mind. One that takes careful measure to say what it wants to say. When most of the narrative threatens to slip into enjoyable but ultimately forgettable fare, Vitthal unleashes devastation that hits the message home hard. Even when you see the gist of it coming, it’s the details that deliver unflinching depictions of unspeakable tragedy. Through Body Cam, Vitthal forces the viewer to be complicit, and to confront grim truth.
It’s this level of care and thoughtfulness that becomes the film’s saving grace, imbuing hard-hitting poignancy in an otherwise familiar supernatural thriller. It may not be ultimately successful in setting itself apart in a densely populated subgenre, in the long-term that is, and it doesn’t offer much complexity either. But the level of polish and earnestness on display makes it a worthwhile watch.
Body Cam releases on Digital on May 19, 2020.
