Remember when Unbreakable stood as a defensible film in the Shyamalan canon? Well M. Night seems set on sullying even his stand alone convention-defying superhero movie of 2000. In true "this is why we can't have good things" fashion, Shyamalan shoehorned his last film Spilt, a deeply problematic portrayal of Dissociative Identity Disorder, into the universe of Unbreakable, and we all collectively sighed knowing he was going spend his next movie justifying the mess he created by pointing back to his glory days. Imagine a dad at a barbeque boasting about his time as an All-American wide receiver, but another dad questions his credentials so the former athlete yanks a pigskin from his son's hands, instructing his critic to throw him a slant route. Now feel the anguish of this old timer tripping over his legs, bringing the good times to a halt with a trip to the ER. Glass is that catastrophic trip, and we are the mortified son.
I suppose I am required to summarize the endless chain of asinine plot conveniences that is the narrative of the film. I will do so, but not gladly. Bruce Willis slumps into his opening frames (and I mean slumps, possibly the most half-assed character reprisal ever) as David Dunn, the vigilante of Unbreakable now with his son Joseph operating as his dispatcher/Alfred. Joseph is also a reprisal role for the then child actor Spencer Treat Clark, and if 19 years did anything it was to steal away any ounce of chemistry from the father-son pair. David has made a nasty little habit out of bruising up petty criminals, but his son encourages a grander target: the multiple personality kidnapper and primary subject of Split.
In comes the infinitely transformable James McAvoy, whose scenes are shot with far less ambition and exposing editing which doesn't retain the magic of his last outing as "The Beast". More accurately he shifts through numerous identities which step in and out of "the light", and whose ultimate manifestation is a vein-popping, wall-scaling animal possessing strength only equaled by David. After a series of contrived plot beats, we're given an early showdown between the two that apparently was a big, elaborate mouse trap? Honestly your guess is as good as mine, seeing as there's no way to justify letting four girls be imprisoned by a murderer for the sake of luring in a man whose number you clearly have. I'm speaking to the mysterious agency that seems to collect supernatural individuals in hopes of convincing them they are ordinary.
Now if I lost you with that last paragraph; the film did the same to me. Sarah Paulson does her best to make sense of this logical idiom as she plays Dr. Staple, a psychiatrist whose field is "superhero debunking" (note I'm simplifying Shyamalan's arduously clunky title). She is tasked by an unknown agency to prove these two superhumans of their "delusions of grandeur". Add in an unexplained appearance of Mr. Glass (Samuel L. Jackson) from the Unbreakable film, and you have yourself a trio. Although this movie bears his title, Jackson sits sedated like a vegetable for a unhealthy chunk of the runtime in order to pull one of a crowded few Shyamalan twists in the third act.
The greatest annoyance here is Shyamalan's overt reliance on the visual motifs of his previously successful films. Fights in the rain, jumping out of high windows, and close ups of characters that have been duped are all present here. He recreates with zero creativity and prays that nostalgia wows reptilian-brained viewers. Add a meta narrative on par with Lady in the Water that creeps up to tell you why he has created a superior superhero franchise, and my fury is damn well justified. This is not acceptable, and is more manipulative than the comic book movies he is trying to bash.
I have no doubts that this will land on an audience that has been starving for a further installment in their most beloved genre-bending movies that was Unbreakable. But I would ask them to look into Willis' eyes here. Peer into the emptiness and convince me that he thought this was a good idea. Lars von Trier did a power move by critiquing all his films with original footage vignettes plopped into the middle of last year's The House the Jack Built. That was bold and effective, if not masturbatory. Shyamalan's pillaging of his previous movies is nauseating and pathetic, but with no vile nature. You just feel sad for the guy after your anger subsides.
I suppose I am required to summarize the endless chain of asinine plot conveniences that is the narrative of the film. I will do so, but not gladly. Bruce Willis slumps into his opening frames (and I mean slumps, possibly the most half-assed character reprisal ever) as David Dunn, the vigilante of Unbreakable now with his son Joseph operating as his dispatcher/Alfred. Joseph is also a reprisal role for the then child actor Spencer Treat Clark, and if 19 years did anything it was to steal away any ounce of chemistry from the father-son pair. David has made a nasty little habit out of bruising up petty criminals, but his son encourages a grander target: the multiple personality kidnapper and primary subject of Split.
In comes the infinitely transformable James McAvoy, whose scenes are shot with far less ambition and exposing editing which doesn't retain the magic of his last outing as "The Beast". More accurately he shifts through numerous identities which step in and out of "the light", and whose ultimate manifestation is a vein-popping, wall-scaling animal possessing strength only equaled by David. After a series of contrived plot beats, we're given an early showdown between the two that apparently was a big, elaborate mouse trap? Honestly your guess is as good as mine, seeing as there's no way to justify letting four girls be imprisoned by a murderer for the sake of luring in a man whose number you clearly have. I'm speaking to the mysterious agency that seems to collect supernatural individuals in hopes of convincing them they are ordinary.
Now if I lost you with that last paragraph; the film did the same to me. Sarah Paulson does her best to make sense of this logical idiom as she plays Dr. Staple, a psychiatrist whose field is "superhero debunking" (note I'm simplifying Shyamalan's arduously clunky title). She is tasked by an unknown agency to prove these two superhumans of their "delusions of grandeur". Add in an unexplained appearance of Mr. Glass (Samuel L. Jackson) from the Unbreakable film, and you have yourself a trio. Although this movie bears his title, Jackson sits sedated like a vegetable for a unhealthy chunk of the runtime in order to pull one of a crowded few Shyamalan twists in the third act.
The greatest annoyance here is Shyamalan's overt reliance on the visual motifs of his previously successful films. Fights in the rain, jumping out of high windows, and close ups of characters that have been duped are all present here. He recreates with zero creativity and prays that nostalgia wows reptilian-brained viewers. Add a meta narrative on par with Lady in the Water that creeps up to tell you why he has created a superior superhero franchise, and my fury is damn well justified. This is not acceptable, and is more manipulative than the comic book movies he is trying to bash.
I have no doubts that this will land on an audience that has been starving for a further installment in their most beloved genre-bending movies that was Unbreakable. But I would ask them to look into Willis' eyes here. Peer into the emptiness and convince me that he thought this was a good idea. Lars von Trier did a power move by critiquing all his films with original footage vignettes plopped into the middle of last year's The House the Jack Built. That was bold and effective, if not masturbatory. Shyamalan's pillaging of his previous movies is nauseating and pathetic, but with no vile nature. You just feel sad for the guy after your anger subsides.