Like one of the child protagonists in Mama,  the movie cannot find its legs, wildly scampering about and moving from  a promising premise to a kitchen sink approach in a desperate play to  make this a full-length movie. Based on a brilliant, intensely creative  3-minute short by Andres Muschietti,  the full-length Guillermo Del Toro-produced film careens from  presenting one red herring after another and loses grasp of the crux of  Muschietti’s idea, the fairly innovative “Mom is mad at us. But wait…  Mom is actually a ghost.”
The movie opens in a straight-out-of-Let The Right One In  wintery scene, with a financial-crisis-aggrieved father, having just  murdered his estranged wife and business partner, driving on a snowy  road with his scared two little girls in the back seat. There is a grim  finality to his intentions, undoubtedly, since he’s a broken man on a  tortuous road with a dead end. Muschietti’s cinematography is absolutely  phenomenal, with a crispness and an enthralling clarity not commonly  seen in ghost story flicks. Dad’s plan is thwarted by Mama, who as the  little girl points out, “does not walk on the ground.”
Five years pass. The girls, Victoria (Megan Carpenter) and Lilly  (Isabelle Nelisse), are discovered, having somehow survived alone in the  wilderness, turning feral in the process, crawling and scampering about  on all fours, scared at any sound and barely human. They are taken in  to live with their Uncle Luke (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and his rock-band-playing girlfriend Annabel (Jessica Chastain),  to whom this all seems like one big nuisance putting a damper on her  bon vivant lifestyle. Obvious nod to a familiar trope: when was the last  time in a horror film that adopting children was a good idea? This is  the first major issue with the film. The very Flowers In The Attic set-up  is ripe with psychological material for exploration. At the same time,  there is a fine line to tread between queasy voyeurism of the results of  child neglect and a compassionate inquiry into it. Most of what we are  presented with is through the lens of the girls’ sessions with a  therapist, who we later come to realize has some questionable  fame-seeking tendencies, and this is the part of the movie where things  start to hit the hokey spectrum fast. Speaking of the therapist, Dr.  Dreyfuss (Daniel Kash), displays some typical horror movie inanity. He  runs out of the house as soon as he gets a whiff of Mama, but then right  away goes in search of her in the abandoned creepy cottage in the  middle of the woods, of course. Because we wouldn’t have it any other  way.
Another major flaw with the film is that less than even half way  through, the audience already knows what Mama is searching for when a  well-meaning librarian ominously declares that a ghost is an “emotion  bent out of shape, bound to repeat itself until the wrong is made  right.” Therein is the crux of the problem with Mama. For the first good  three quarters of the movie, it is eerie and atmospheric and scary and  then all of a sudden, it bafflingly turns into a sloppy hodgepodge of  clues meant to somehow make the story more believable but are really  *gaping* plot holes that serve to unravel it and make less believable  instead. Oh, Mama is a ghost, but she needs a hole in the wall to pass  through!? No, seriously. Oh, Mama is searching for something but when  she is handed it, she quickly tosses it aside. Oh, the Doctor tells Mama  he has something that she is looking for, but oopsie daisie, he forgot  it in the office. And the ending will literally having you howling with  laughter as it looks plucked straight out of  where-CGI-goes-to-die-archives, soft light glow bathing things, things  breaking up into dust particles and butterflies, and the family clinging  to each other at the edge of the cliff, literally.
The ingeniousness of the original short lies in the interaction  between Mama and the girls. It had the absorbing and equally disturbing  absurdity that the very banal “Mama is mad at me,” situation takes on  when Mama is not human. There is enough horror even in the opening of  the closet door. It would be intriguing to explore how Lilly and Victoria  respond to her differently. All of this rich material seems left to  languish, untouched, in favor of vapid scare tactics. Mama has  so much potential that ends up ghostly vanishing into thin air, but it  does offer some good old-fashioned, mercifully-gore-free frights.
