Village of the dumb

Noel Vera

It would have been nice to go against the negative critical tide
washing all over M. Night Shyamalan's latest movie "The Village"--to
find some kind of virtue where everyone else found endless fault--
but I didn't like it enough to want to defend it, even, if only, out
of a sense of perversity. Not a big Shyamalan fan, even if I did
enjoy "The Sixth Sense"--enjoyed Bruce Willis' whispery lead
performance and Haley Joel Osment's easy intensity (back before it
started feeling so manufactured), though I had reservations about
his ultimately benign vision of the afterlife; enjoyed "Unbreakable"
even more, because it was Shyamalan's coming-out movie, the picture
where he declares "I'm a comic-book geek, and don't care if everyone
knows about it." "Unbreakable" didn't do well, commercially and
critically, possibly because people were turned off by the fact that
he WAS a comic-book geek, but for some reason I found that kind of
nutty confessional fantasy filmmaking appealing.

It was with his third movie "Signs" that a sense of apathy began to
overcome whatever mild appeal he had for me--never mind that Mel
Gibson gave his least egotistic performance (as either actor or
director) in years, or that Joaquin Phoenix had a whispery intensity
(whispering apparently being a popular mode of expression in
Shyamalan's pictures); the movie's villains--extraterrestrials
attempting to take over the Earth--were some of the lamest, laziest,
most unenterprising alien invaders I've ever seen (they might have
done better to have watched Nigel Kneale's "Quatermass" series
first).

"The Village" again has Phoenix--Shyamalan must have adapted him as
a collaborator of choice (or vice versa)--and he plays one of the
village's few eligible bachelors with understated authority,
trusting that his notable lack of dialogue would make him compelling
both to us and to the village girls (it works, somewhat). It also
has the charming Bryce Dallas Howard as a beautiful blind girl of
some spirit making eyes at Phoenix, plus a handful of overqualified
supporting players: William Hurt, former hunky '80s lead star turned
creepy character actor, as a heavily whiskered village elder;
Sigourney Weaver, impressive regal cheekbones and all, given little
to do as Phoenix's mother; Adrien Brody, enjoying himself
tremendously after suffering through Roman Polanski's "The Pianist,"
playing the village idiot.

This happy few--vaguely Amish-looking and living in what looks like
the late 19th century--speak formally stilted English (a real
vacation for Shyamalan, whose dialogue in his modern-day screenplays
keep acquiring distractingly odd, presumably Indian, cadences) and
live their innocent lives next to a mysterious, somewhat threatening
forest. Strange things happen: monstrous sounds are heard deep in
the woods; skinned and mutilated animals are found; much mention is
made of "Those We Do Not Speak Of" (why do they keep getting
mentioned then?). The villagers are basically happy, but the edge of
their consciousness is surrounded by a misty anxiety.

Everyone has pointed out how Shyamalan's insistence on having his
movies finish on some kind of plot twist has raised audiences
expectations, probably past the point where he can actually fulfill
them, and while this in some part is true, I don't feel it's the
core of what's wrong with his recent work. His real problem is that
he's under so much pressure to surprise his viewers that he's ready
to sacrifice everything--credibility, consistency, and worse of all
characterization--to his all-important shock ending. I mean, granted
the villagers' fear of "Those We Do Not Speak Of"--would any of them
really stand at an open doorway, waiting, while those Unspeakable
ones walked about? On the other hand, granted their fear of the
forest, would any of the villagers really leave one of their own,
helpless, behind (you'd think they'd at least try harder to talk
them--maybe even force them--into coming back)? Alejandro
Amenabar's "The Others," to name a better example of contemporary
horror, had a mildly startling finish (and one you can see
beforehand if you pay attention carefully enough) but what stays in
the memory isn't the ending but Nicole Kidman's compelling
performance as a control-freak mother whose mind is slowly,
convincingly giving way to hysteria, and Amenabar's evocative
filmmaking.

As for the ending itself (skip this paragraph if you want to
actually see the movie)--it raises so many questions that the whole
movie collapses (unlike in "The Sixth Sense," where the ending
answers enough questions that the movie makes more sense--somewhat).
How did the elders get the kind of authorization needed to isolate
the village? How do they expect to keep up the illusion with future
generations? Why would Hurt's character allow his daughter to
venture off (it's possible, I suppose, I just don't think what I saw
onscreen sufficiently explained what he did)? Worse of all, just
when things start to get really interesting--when we learn the true
nature of the relationship between the elders and their children--
the movie ends, just like that.

The sad thing is, it's not as if Shyamalan is totally devoid of
talent--what may have made audiences and critics so unforgiving of
this movie (and of the previous "Signs"), must have been the
expectations he raised in the first place. "The Sixth Sense" was a
huge hit, and its mildly inventive visual style, odd storytelling,
and (yes, yes, admittedly part of the package) twist ending helped
make it so. "The Village" is, if anything, even better looking
than "The Sixth Sense" with its shockingly bright reds, warm torch-
lights, and brooding forest mists (photographed by the wonderful
Roger Deakins, who took over from Barry Sonnenfeld's former job as
the Coen brothers' cinematographer); even its sound design is a vast
improvement over "The Sixth Sense," which relied on cheap-sounding
shriek music, played loud for maximum shock effect. More, Shyamalan
still eschews digitalized and processed shots (far as I can see,
anyway), preferring to create his special effects on-camera, to
achieve mood and atmosphere through visual style and music.
Shyamalan has grown in skill as a director, you just wonder if he'll
ever grow up as a storyteller.

(First published in Businessworld, 8/13/04)

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)