[REVIEW] Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2

Last year, I found myself at odds with the majority of moviegoers who saw Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey.  The reactions generally ranged from apathy to vitriol—how dare they stain the reputations of such loveable public domain characters? That film garnered only 50% approval from audiences on Rotten Tomatoes, and a shocking 3% from critics. And while I certainly don’t see Blood and Honey becoming even a cult classic anytime soon, there was—and continues to be—value in parodying childhood stories through a horror/slasher lens. But with the same leniency I found myself giving the first installment of what director Rhys Frake-Waterfield is calling his “Poohniverse,” I also believe that it’s the filmmaker’s responsibility to build on the merits of the first film—to take the lessons learned from the first and, not only take advantage of the larger budget, but hone the worldbuilding and storytelling into a franchise worth following. What I find strange is that it’s with that very admonition that I find myself, once again, at odds with the consensus on Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2.

Whether the sequel’s improved critical reaction comes from having already weeded out all but the most irreverent Pooh fans, or from the lowered expectations of those who hated the first film so vehemently, feedback to Pooh 2 has been substantially better. If audiences have come around to welcoming the “horror-fication” of children’s stories, like I had hoped, then why do I feel so nonplussed about this second entry into the franchise?

Certain aspects of Blood and Honey 2 are inarguably better. The costumes are impressive—especially considering the broader cast of characters—and like the first film, creative kills abound. Here, though, I caught myself wondering if they expanded the film’s scope too much, too fast—starting with the victims. With Pooh & Co.’s decision to take their revenge, not only on Christopher Robin, but on the entire town of Ashdown, one would expect the kill count to rise accordingly, and it does. But while Blood and Honey suffered from an unfortunate lack of character development in its housemates, this movie decides to skip development entirely. Aside from the re-cast Christopher Robin (Scott Chambers) and his not-girlfriend Lexy (Tallulah Evans), almost none of the other characters get much of anything to know them by. In fact, in the film’s biggest set-piece, many of the victims who get central, on-screen deaths are getting their first lines (or screams) in the same shots. Fun and elaborate as the kills may end up being, there’s no emotional payoff to seeing them meet their demise.

This approach can sometimes work when we’re expected to empathize more with the killers, which seems to be the intent here, but without the shift in perspective from villains to antiheroes, it doesn’t quite land in Blood and Honey 2. Although it doubles its cast of villains by adding Tigger and Owl (even though Piglet is largely absent), the filmmakers missed a huge opportunity to give each character a distinct personality. In the first few scenes, budding attempts are hinted at—Owl, like his storybook counterpart, is much more prone to monologuing than his more brutish companions, and Tigger, who starts the film straitjacketed and locked in a cell, is a great nod to his zany, manic origins—but once they’re released onto Ashdown, they all become nearly indistinguishable from one another.

Each of the creatures, for instance, share similarly gravelly voices and theatrical, emphatic mannerisms, to the extent where there were several moments in the dimly lit corridors and forests that I had to look again to make sure I knew who was disemboweling their next victim. As part of the costume upgrade, Pooh got a new layer of fur and a slightly more convincing color palette than the bright yellow, rubbery skin he had previously. It looks great on its own, but it also takes away from the striking appearance the first Pooh had and dampens some of the creativity that could have gone into Owl and Tigger’s design.

Tigger, again, is an opportunity missed. The original character’s personality is likely the biggest of the bunch, but in his transition to slasherdom, he loses the campy wit I expected him to have (like the knife-gloved dream stalker he takes inspiration from), instead limiting himself to a few kitschy catchphrases. Despite the get-up we first meet him in, nothing about Tigger says to the viewer, “psychopath.” I longed for him to menacingly hum “The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers” as he hunted down the rave-goers, which I thought would have gone a long way toward separating him from the others, but instead, there’s little we see in his scenes that couldn’t have been given to Pooh or Owl.

One clever bit of meta-storytelling that helped explain away Christopher Robin’s recasting was the existence of the original movie within the universe of the sequel. Much like Stab’s interpretation of the massacres in the Scream universe, the adaptation of Christopher Robin’s experience not only forces Christopher to relive his trauma on an ongoing basis, but serves as a reason to distance him from his peers, half of whom think he is responsible for the murders, despite the lack of evidence. 

Even though I don’t think Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2 works quite as well as its predecessor, I haven’t given up hope on the absurd fever dream that is the Poohniverse. With a third Pooh film in the works, as well as similarly demented spins on Pinocchio, Bambi, and Peter Pan, Frake-Waterfield and his team are certainly carving out their own twisted corner of horror fandom. As the roster of monsters expands, though, it’s going to be increasingly important that they are able to set themselves apart from each other, especially if that means showing some internal friction between the woodland critters. But while we’re imagining creatures to come, is it too much to ask for a Belial-like mutant Roo emerging from his mother Kanga’s abdomen? One can dream.