Every time I suffer through another M. Night Shyamalan fiasco, I exit the theater thinking, I’m done with this guy.
And yet ... here I am again.
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| Riley (Ariel Donoghue) is loving every minute of the stadium concert featuring her favorite musician, particularly since her father (Josh Hartnett) is sharing the experience with her. But why is the place laden with so many armed cops? |
Honestly, he doesn’t even try now; his recent films have been classic examples of the “idiot plot,” which lurches from one scene to the next, only because each and every character behaves like an idiot at all times.
Trap is no different ... although, in fairness, one character is allowed to be smart (but I’ll not say who, since that would be a major spoiler).
The prologue seems ordinary enough, as doting father Cooper (Josh Hartnett) and his teenage daughter Riley (Ariel Donoghue) attend a sold-out stadium concert starring her OMG all-time-favorite singer/songwriter, Lady Raven (Saleka Night Shyamalan). Riley is beside herself with delight, her enthusiasm radiating like the sun’s rays.
But the atmosphere is a little off. The presence of armed cops seems way excessive, even in these dangerous times. Once the concert begins, Cooper seems overly obsessed by this heightened security; he’s also a bit OCD and tense. Hartnett plays this well, his eyes open a bit too wide, his cheerfulness oddly forced.
While father and daughter prowl the outer foyers during intermission, a merch vendor lets slip the truth: Police and the FBI learned that a notorious serial killer, dubbed The Butcher, would be attending this performance ... so they’ve arrived in force, determined to capture him.
(Actually, “in force” is an understatement; it looks like the place is filled with every cop in Philadelphia, along with massive contingents from the neighboring five states.)
Okay, let’s unpack this a bit.
We’re expected to believe that law enforcement would jeopardize tens of thousands of innocent concertgoers, knowing that a cornered lunatic could maim and kill God knows how many of them?
On top of which, given the tone that Shyamalan takes, are we seriously expected to hope that this guy, via guile and ingenious maneuvers, does evade capture? We’re supposed to cheer a maniac who — over time — dismembered 12 earlier victims, leaving body parts strewn all over the landscape? A guy who, as we watch, creates a distraction by permanently disfiguring a fast-food worker, when she gets hit in the face with scalding-hot French fry oil?
Sorry, but that’s just sick.
