Rob’s review published on Letterboxd:
(Note: rating unchanged on rewatch)
...I hate that fucking kid.
I don't have kids. I don't like kids. I like liquor, sleeping in and disposable income, and three of these things are not like the other.
That is always going to be something that stands between me and my being as affected by this movie as some are. They say that the second you see your child you are filled with an unconditional love for them and a willingness to do anything for them. Fuck that. I love my cat, but if he started blasting firecrackers in my basement and blowing out windows, I'd liberally apply Scatmats until he got his shit together.
And that's the disconnect I have with The Babadook. When Samuel has the seizure in the car, my first reaction is, "Yeah, bite your fucking tongue off, you seat kicking dipshit..."
And I get that I'm supposed to empathize with Amelia for feeling the same way sometimes; there is no unconditional love. Everyone had a breaking point. Going out for a pack of cigarettes and never coming back isn't a cliche for no reason.
And while I don't know parenting, I do know sleep deprivation. That getting like things aren't real, and seeing weird motion out if the corner of your eye. That feeling that everyone is out to fuck with your day and make things just Goddamned harder than they need to be.
Those are the parts that work for me, and make the whole thing hang together. And a do get a certain amount of perverse satisfaction in watching Samual start to rein himself in when Ameilia starts popping off in public and acting more and more left of center. Yeah, see how YOU like it, you little ankle biter.
Of course, I also never killed the cat for looking askance at me, or required a sharp blow to the head to keep from choking out my coworkers, so my empathy only goes so far.
Anyway, I guess the point is a mother's love defeats all, but it hasn't done anything for my drinking problem.