One star. Rated PG-13, for violence, nudity, mild profanity and disturbing thematic material
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.11.15
That’s it: No more movies by M.
Night Shyamalan.
I’m done.
He has exhausted the final
reserve of my benefit-of-the-doubt, things-have-to-get-better generosity. The
gloves are off: Whatever talent the man had, once upon a time, obviously flew
south several migrations ago ... and went extinct.
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| When Becca (Olivia DeJonge) and Tyler (Ed Oxenbould) share their mounting concerns about their grandparents during a Skype session with their mother (Kathryn Hahn), the latter insists that old folks are just, well, a bit set in their way. If only it were that simple... |
And shame on every studio — in
this newest case, Universal — that has enabled him, by bankrolling and
releasing such dreck.
I’d call The Visit his worst
effort yet, except that he plumbed those lamentable depths forever and always,
with 2010’s atrociously awful live-action adaptation of the cartoon series The Last Airbender. Nor can this newest train wreck lay claim to the title of
second worst, because of the equally lamentable Lady in the Water. Not to
mention the similarly dreadful After Earth and The Happening.
So I really, really want to know:
Why do people keep throwing money at this hack? Don’t track records count for
anything?
OK, yes, Shyamalan uncorked a
masterpiece chiller with 1999’s The Sixth Sense: a bravura bit of writing and
directing, along with a fiendishly clever premise — deftly exploited — that
deserved all the good things said about it. And his immediate follow-up, Unbreakable, was reasonably well sculpted.
But the cracks began to show with Signs, and the (bad) writing truly was on the wall when The Village came
along. That was a decade ago, and since then we’ve suffered through nothing but
swill.
The core problem is easy to
identify: Shyamalan has a knack for a nifty premise — and The Visit is no
different — but his execution leaves much (actually, everything) to be desired.
Clumsy narratives. Badly conceived characters who constantly behave like idiots.
Performances so breathless and wooden that they warp. Plot holes large enough
to permit the flow of rush-hour traffic.
On top of which, Shyamalan
clumsily squanders his own concepts, forsaking any semblance of subtlety for
thunderously blatant “clues” that baldly telegraph the supposed “gotcha!”
intended to make folks squeal with delight, nod with admiration, and mutter
“Wow, I never saw that one coming.”
In your dreams, Mr. Shyamalan.
