There are worse ways for a television star to transition into film than a horror movie. There are also better movies to do it in than The Boy. Still, Lauren Cohan of The Walking Dead shines bright in William Brent Bell's dim genre exercise, a vital presence opposite a lifeless co-star. She plays an American nanny who, upon arriving at her new employers' rural English abode, learns that her eight-year-old charge is actually a life-sized doll. The real Brahms, we're told, died under cloudy circumstances some 20 years earlier, and this porcelain facsimile has taken on the role of a physical and emotional stand-in for the elderly parents -- like many (if not most) horror films, The Boy is a case study in how not to deal with grief.
In these early scenes Cohan seems poised to elevate this silly premise, showing an unusual talent for small talk and other casual interactions that ground the fanciful story. More than most would-be scream queens, Greta comes across as an actual human being, making it impossible for audiences to write her off as cannon fodder. But there's only so much she can do once the movie around her devolves into the usual barrage of jump scares, but Cohan maintains her composure even as Greta loses hers.
On the strength of that performance, The Boy often feels more credible than it has any right to; in merely keeping a straight face and not betraying how patently ridiculous this all is, Cohan makes us hold our breath along with her during the small build-up scares.