The Liam Neeson horror-comedy Cold Storage has a secret weapon

It was easy for the horror-comedy Cold Storage to get lost in the shuffle over the holiday weekend, even though it performed well in semi-wide release with sometimes-limited showtimes. (For example, in Manhattan, where I saw it, most of the shows were evening-only — it was already sharing screens with other movies, even during its opening weekend.) Half a dozen other movies debuted or expanded on the same date, and the trailers for Cold Storage make the film look a little low-rent.

Specifically, they make Cold Storage seem interchangeable with any number of flip, passably amusing horror comedies where filmmakers explode people for comic effect, strain for arch outrageousness, and/or make broad attempts at commentary. The familiarity of this marketing campaign obscures the fact that Cold Storage is actually pretty delightful, in large part because of screenwriter David Koepp. Koepp has been a high-profile Hollywood screenwriter for more than three decades, best known for adapting huge properties like the original Spider-Man, Mission: Impossible and Jurassic Park entries. Here, he turns his adaptation skills to his own first novel, published in 2019, and precisely avoids the combination of laziness and sweatiness that characterizes so many horror comedies.

The setup prepares viewers for slacker disaffection: Travis (Stranger Things’ Joe Keery) works the overnight shift at a storage facility in rural Kansas, alongside his new coworker Naomi (Barbarian star Georgia Campbell) and under the loose but boorish supervision of their crooked boss Griffin (Gavin Spokes). When a small but persistent alarm starts beeping somewhere in the building, Travis convinces Naomi to help him investigate — and then, when they discover ominous secret tunnels beneath the facility, Naomi convinces Travis to come exploring with her, mostly because she’s bored.

Unbeknownst to the employees, the building is a former government facility that’s been storing a mutated fungus whose nasty effects are seen in the movie’s prologue. It’s fast-spreading and fast-acting enough to take over the entire world. It acts much like the zombie pathogen from 28 Days Later, turning victims into ravaged monsters who eventually explode into bloody fungal messes, while the fungus itself rapidly spreads to any available host. Now climate change and neglect have affected the deep freeze keeping it contained. The facility’s breach alarm also triggers a call to Robert Quinn (Liam Neeson), a government operative who encountered the fungus 20 years ago in that prologue, and fully understands its dangers. Travis and Naomi must hold down the fort as various others arrive at the storage building, providing potential avenues for the fungus to travel.

Even for a horror-comedy, Cold Storage makes an extremely clear delineation between who to root for (Travis, Naomi, and Robert) and whose fates to treat with callous indifference (almost everyone else’s). The way Koepp’s screenplay contributes to this, however, is unusually relaxed. Rather than relying on the tedious Save the Cat principle that the lead characters should quickly prove their worth to the audience through some act of heroism or kindness, Koepp and director Jonny Campbell take their time and allow Travis and Naomi to actually talk to each other.

The dialogue isn’t especially realistic, but it also isn’t larded up with quips or sarcasm. At first, Naomi is lightly exasperated by Travis’ chattiness, which Keery plays in a similar register to his Stranger Things character Steve. But she’s heartened by his willingness to continue investigating the source of the beeping, and flattered by the barely unstated fact that he’s willing to keep going because he’s attracted to her. As they walk through their workplace’s mysterious sub-levels, they ask each other questions. And in short order, without actually formalizing a romantic connection, they start to resemble a Final Couple — a pair whose mutual survival seems unlikely, yet critical for the movie.

It’s easy enough to forgive how their curiosity violates horror movies’ don’t-go-in-there rules for making it out alive; they’re enjoying each other’s company. By about 30 minutes into the movie, Koepp has performed the neat trick of creating a dual rooting interest out of little more than two charming actors who seem to like each other.

With that central stability in place, Cold Storage has a lot more leeway in other areas. Computer-generated special effects kinda janky? Well, at least they’re inventively gross, as the fungus jumps between a series of ill-fated animals and humans. A Liam Neeson character vaguely out of place in a cast divided between a sweet would-be couple and a bunch of lowlife fungus fodder? That’s part of the fun, and so is Robert’s clandestine dealings with an Army representative code-named Abigail (Ellora Torchia), secretly helping Robert when a higher-up official tries to deny him the resources he needs to save the world. Cartoonish supporting characters obviously ushered on screen so the fungus can achieve some more gnarly kills? They’re augmented with odd, whimsical touches, like how a gang of motorcycle-riding thieves includes a nerdy dentist who clearly just joined their gang for the thrill, identified as such only in passing.

Image: Samuel Goldwyn

Throughout all this bustle, Koepp leaves room for Campbell to engineer absurd horror-comedy images — an infection-dazed deer casually strolling into an elevator; David Fincher-style impossible shots that zip through industrial crevices and passageways, following the path of the wily fungus; all that exploding gunk — while still taking the lead characters seriously as people. Travis is funny, but not because he’s constantly swearing or making labored wisecracks; he’s endearingly earnest even when his brain slips a beat behind his companion. Naomi is smart and capable, but not an unstoppable badass, nor above following her whims and exploring the dank recesses of forbidding-looking tunnels. Neeson is also funny while finding some humanity at the midpoint between Taken-style ass-kicking and Naked Gun-style bumbling.

Ultimately, Cold Storage serves as a showcase for Koepp’s versatility. In addition to his famous franchise work, he’s been a go-to scribe for both Steven Spielberg and Steven Soderbergh, and a writer-director of genre workouts like Premium Rush and A Stir of Echoes. Cold Storage doesn’t much resemble any of the other movies he’s written, yet its basic values — character, dialogue, a steady pace — stretch all through his career. Cold Storage makes horror-comedy look as easy and appealing as it’s supposed to be.

Cold Storage is in theaters now.