None of you? Really? Okay, I'll bite...
I don't think I've ever been a bigger fan of a filmmaker whose films I dislike on such a regular basis. Even when I can nod my head along to the majority of the product ('Unbreakable', half of 'Signs', maybe seven seconds in 'The Village') I find myself so repelled by Shyamalan's simplistic worldview, his leaden compromised structuring, and -- worst of all -- his employment of 'The Twist', the reverse-MacGuffin wherein I'm supposed to follow along like I'm going to hear the word of god or something. I'd argue that the biggest twist in 'The Sixth Sense' is that it evolves from a successful supernatural thriller into a sensitive human drama like 'Ordinary People' without overstepping its genre film footing.
It's not as easy to dismiss 'Lady in the Water' as a flat-out failure like 'The Village' -- wherein a body can look back on their filmgoing experience as simply a waste, channeling post-9/11 rage into moralizing that shouldn't leave a dorm room. 'The Village' maintains its tone throughout, whereas 'Lady in the Water' is such an eye-wateringly frustrating experience that you feel bad for M. Night Jr., doubtlessly passing out from exhaustion trying to juggle this convoluted "Bedtime Story" in his head.
A paragraph describing 'Lady in the Water''s plot would leave a reader thinking it's quite simply one of the dumbest movies ever made. I'm not sure it is, but for the first twenty, thirty minutes or so, I was convinced I had stumbled upon one of the forgotten gems of Shyamalan's career. Hugely imperfect yet fascinating exposition and discovery. Certainly not good, but had it continued in its relatively paired down vein I would laud it as charming, even funny. And yet I can definitively say the moment it goes wrong is when Shyamalan himself enters the screen. It's not that he's a horrible actor, but rather that what Shyamalan The Director does to/for Shyamalan The Actor is so utterly repellant, self-serving, and revealing in ways that A ####ING CO-WRITER would make sure would never see the sceen that it creates a vibration that shuffles one's feet out of the theater. Took a lot of effort, which was confusing because I wanted to stay there.
I don't want to blame Shyamalan The Actor entirely; it's Shyamalan The Director's fault that he got the gig in the first place (nepotism), and yet it genuinely feels like Shyamalan The Actor takes the movie in another direction entirely, and that had he not shown up the movie could've gone anywhere. I know this is not true, that considering how the bubble life of Shyamalan has evolved it was only a matter of time that he made a movie consisting entirely of rules, plotting, and people staring at each other THINKING these extraneous spices are the root elements of drama and dispensing with that old staple wherein PEOPLE actually do THINGS. I know this, and yet I think back to the first quarter/third of the film before I got the opportunity to finish the sentence "Y'know what, hokey as it is, it's not half-b --" with remiss, and loathing for Shyamalan The Actor, and whatever he did to Shyamalan The Director in his trailer leaving America with this load.
(Incidentally, that comment I made about Shyamalan blowing himself? A little distasteful and yet entirely appropriate for this movie)
'Lady in the Water' is the best thing to happen to Shyamalan. I maintain that a Shyamalan tracking shot is an evocative experience, and a lot of his visual execution is effective. He needs limits and a script; be it under studio brass, fine by me. He's not done yet and 'Lady in the Water' will remain one of the most perplexing auteurist statements of the decade. I strongly dislike this movie and cannot dismiss it; it's a cookie for sadists, or Shyamalan purists, whatever you prefer.
Paul Giamatti is good.
Lady In The Water - That Clown Shyamalan Is Back
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Keith Uhlich of SlantMagazine likes it.
*** out of ****
Lady in the Water
Cast: Paul Giamatti, Bryce Dallas Howard, Jeffrey Wright, Bob Balaban, Sarita Choudhury, Cindy Cheung, M. Night Shyamalan, Freddy Rodríguez, Bill Irwin, Mary Beth Hurt, Jared Harris and Tovah Feldshuh
Directed by: M. Night Shyamalan
Screenplay by: M. Night Shyamalan
Distributor: Warner Bros.
Runtime: 110 min
Rating: PG-13
Year: 2006
Among its many identities, M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is first and foremost a gaping psychic wound, a blood-spattered, pulsating tumor ripped violently from both its creator's head and, more fascinatingly, his heart, then planted onscreen, raw and unfettered, for all to come and see. That is its beauty and its limitation. Shyamalan's self-described bedtime story is as uncompromised a film as they come, yet it is cut from distressingly egocentric cloth, the product of a man with a frighteningly sincere messiah complex. Shyamalan isn't play-acting by casting himself in the film as a tortured writer who finds his muse in the mythical water creature Story (Bryce Dallas Howard). Like a populist Roland Barthes suddenly regressed to pre-adolescence, Shyamalan really believes in this hermetically sealed work's every childlike (often childish) syllable, sign, and signifier that points the way to his inevitable deification. But what of the scenes where his character is genuinely humble before the muse, genuflecting and attentive as if in the presence of a power greater than him, and augmented by Hong Kong-based cinematographer Christopher Doyle's own holy gaze (credit Shyamalan for picking true visionaries as his collaborators)? There is authentic contradiction here, more so than in the superficial shenanigans of Shyamalan's thinly veiled and ineffective political allegory The Village, and it is not a narrative afterthought.
The various types who populate the film's single setting—a seemingly nondescript Pennsylvania apartment complex called The Cove—are as much an emotional mess as their creator, the ostensible star of the multi-culti rogues gallery being Cleveland Heep (a superb Paul Giamatti), a stutter-afflicted building superintendent who harbors a tragic secret. He seems a weak-willed cripple, but when asked by a reclusive neighbor (Bill Irwin) if "mankind deserves to be saved," Cleveland responds without hesitation and in surprising earnest: "Yes." It is some kind of achievement that Cleveland's thought (the organic heart of the film) doesn't come off as pandering lip service, unlike the unfortunate B-plot involving the arrogant film critic Mr. Farber (a one-dimensional construct created solely for the auteur's lip-smacking revenge) to whom actor Bob Balaban nonetheless gamely adds several shades of gray. One wonders if the character's namesake, the great film critic Manny Farber, would have been as baffled as this writer by Shyamalan's film maudit, which inhabits some kind of nebulous space between those Farber-coined extremes: white-elephant art and termite art. For those brave souls willing to get lost in this Night-time labyrinth I can only guarantee you'll come out changed, though whether for the better or for the worse we'd best, as the muse might advise, leave that to history's reckoning.
Keith Uhlich
© slant magazine, 2006.
*** out of ****
Lady in the Water
Cast: Paul Giamatti, Bryce Dallas Howard, Jeffrey Wright, Bob Balaban, Sarita Choudhury, Cindy Cheung, M. Night Shyamalan, Freddy Rodríguez, Bill Irwin, Mary Beth Hurt, Jared Harris and Tovah Feldshuh
Directed by: M. Night Shyamalan
Screenplay by: M. Night Shyamalan
Distributor: Warner Bros.
Runtime: 110 min
Rating: PG-13
Year: 2006
Among its many identities, M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is first and foremost a gaping psychic wound, a blood-spattered, pulsating tumor ripped violently from both its creator's head and, more fascinatingly, his heart, then planted onscreen, raw and unfettered, for all to come and see. That is its beauty and its limitation. Shyamalan's self-described bedtime story is as uncompromised a film as they come, yet it is cut from distressingly egocentric cloth, the product of a man with a frighteningly sincere messiah complex. Shyamalan isn't play-acting by casting himself in the film as a tortured writer who finds his muse in the mythical water creature Story (Bryce Dallas Howard). Like a populist Roland Barthes suddenly regressed to pre-adolescence, Shyamalan really believes in this hermetically sealed work's every childlike (often childish) syllable, sign, and signifier that points the way to his inevitable deification. But what of the scenes where his character is genuinely humble before the muse, genuflecting and attentive as if in the presence of a power greater than him, and augmented by Hong Kong-based cinematographer Christopher Doyle's own holy gaze (credit Shyamalan for picking true visionaries as his collaborators)? There is authentic contradiction here, more so than in the superficial shenanigans of Shyamalan's thinly veiled and ineffective political allegory The Village, and it is not a narrative afterthought.
The various types who populate the film's single setting—a seemingly nondescript Pennsylvania apartment complex called The Cove—are as much an emotional mess as their creator, the ostensible star of the multi-culti rogues gallery being Cleveland Heep (a superb Paul Giamatti), a stutter-afflicted building superintendent who harbors a tragic secret. He seems a weak-willed cripple, but when asked by a reclusive neighbor (Bill Irwin) if "mankind deserves to be saved," Cleveland responds without hesitation and in surprising earnest: "Yes." It is some kind of achievement that Cleveland's thought (the organic heart of the film) doesn't come off as pandering lip service, unlike the unfortunate B-plot involving the arrogant film critic Mr. Farber (a one-dimensional construct created solely for the auteur's lip-smacking revenge) to whom actor Bob Balaban nonetheless gamely adds several shades of gray. One wonders if the character's namesake, the great film critic Manny Farber, would have been as baffled as this writer by Shyamalan's film maudit, which inhabits some kind of nebulous space between those Farber-coined extremes: white-elephant art and termite art. For those brave souls willing to get lost in this Night-time labyrinth I can only guarantee you'll come out changed, though whether for the better or for the worse we'd best, as the muse might advise, leave that to history's reckoning.
Keith Uhlich
© slant magazine, 2006.
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Mister Tee
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I'm going to take a stab here and say the critical ferociousness being directed at this film (Kris Tapley reports there was hissing after a screening yesterday) might cause, incredibly enough, a bit of backlash in Shyamalan's favor. Much of the critique has taken on a quite personal edge, which Shyamalan used to turn around and make himself appear sympathetic last night on The Daily Show. There's a real possibility that, despite vastly negative notices, the film will open to a solid gross (remember, The Village way outperformed expectations and reviews), and the narrative could be changed to "audiences stick with Night despite carping critics". I don't see a smash, but I see enough success that the feeling will be he slipped the noose. (Obviously, if Friday's gross is somewhere under ten million, this post becomes inoperative)
And the irony? -- if he survives, that godawful book is probably what he can thank. It was the book, more even than his ego and many demands -- and films of waning effectiveness -- that made critics sharpen their knives and go for him not just with abandon but in advance. It fostered this period of lyning-in-wait that has allowed Shyamalan to reposition himself as poor-put-upon-misunderstood-artist.
And the irony? -- if he survives, that godawful book is probably what he can thank. It was the book, more even than his ego and many demands -- and films of waning effectiveness -- that made critics sharpen their knives and go for him not just with abandon but in advance. It fostered this period of lyning-in-wait that has allowed Shyamalan to reposition himself as poor-put-upon-misunderstood-artist.
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Mister Tee
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And, Hollywood Reporter...
Lady in the Water
By Kirk Honeycutt
Bottom line: A fairy-tale world exists inside the quotidian but most of the magic remain locked up inside writer-director M. Night Shyamalan's head.
Writer-director M. Night Shyamalan's latest venture into the paranormal, "Lady in the Water," tries to locate extraordinary events within the ordinary and everyday. The setting is an apartment complex surrounding a swimming pool in suburban Philadelphia.
Nevertheless, living, breathing creatures from a child's bedtime story lurk within its confines. Working with a very talented cast and a strong visual design engineered by cinematographer Christopher Doyle and designer Martin Childs, Shyamalan does project genuine menace and suspense into this mundane location, especially in nighttime scenes. But the magic that would transport you from reality into fantasy is missing. The particulars of the fairy tale are simply too sketchy and convoluted to inspire confidence in its mythology.
Shyamalan's films, taking place in twilight zones far afield from all other Hollywood science-fiction, fantasy and horror, have earned $2 billion in boxoffice and video sales. So clearly there is something about his vision that resonates with audiences. Consequently, "Lady" should open strong, but the lack of any genuine frights or thrills may not sustain a long run.
Paul Giamatti plays the kind of character he does best -- Cleveland Heep, a guy hiding out from life as a caretaker/manager of the Cove Apartments. Lately, from his cottage near the pool, he suspects someone has been swimming in the pool at night against regulations. Pursuing this intruder one night, Cleveland falls into the pool and is rescued by a nymph-like female (Bryce Dallas Howard), who is very quiet and frightened and calls herself Story. She insists she comes from the world of water and that fierce beings want to prevent her return to that world.
One of the movie's conceits is that the Cove is more multi-ethnic than the U.N. So it is from a Korean tenant (June Kyoko Lu) -- whose hip and scantily clothed daughter, Young Soon (Cindy Cheung), provides the translation -- that Cleveland learns of a tale "from the East" that fits the particulars of the water nymph's situation.
Story is a "narf," a creature from the water, and her vicious adversary is a "scrunt," which when it finally becomes visible is a cross between a hyena and wild boar with matted, spiky fur and a really bad temper. The bedtime tale insists that several humans in the area where the narf appears have powers, unknown to themselves, that will enable them to protect and guide her to her destination.
So Cleveland, who buys into this fairy tale without a moment's hesitation, rushes among the tenants to determine which ones fit the necessary roles. His reluctant mentor is the newest tenant, Mr. Farber (Bob Balaban), a prissy and cynical book and film critic, who because he knows every possible plot devise and character thinks he can determine the obvious candidates. (This character must certainly be Shyamalan's revenge against his less friendly critics, but the character nevertheless is a hoot in his icy arrogance.)
Is Mr. Dury (Jeffrey Wright), a loving father with an aptitude for crossword puzzles, the Interpreter of Signs? Is Mrs. Bell (Mary Beth Hurt), a lover of animals, the Healer? Cleveland thinks he may be the Guardian. But how does the unusual bodybuilder Reggie (Freddy Rodriguez), the intellectual but remote Mr. Leeds (Bill Irwin) and an Indian writer and his sister (Shyamalan and Sarita Choudhury) fit in? One very curious thing about all these tenants is that when Cleveland comes to them with his tale of narfs and scrunts, no one looks at him and says he should check into a mental hospital. Not one.
If you take a stab at film fantasy at the level of such Shyamalan favorites as "The Wizard of Oz" and "E.T.," then you must be clear about your other worldly creatures and their goals. Here the film utterly fails. It never quite takes that very necessary step into the wardrobe as "Narnia" most recently did.
This bedtime story comes at a viewer too sporadically and the goals of the opposing forces are too vague. If a narf is a creature of the water, then why should she be rescued by an eagle from the air? If the mere appearance of Farber is enough to stop an imminent attack by a scrunt, then why should the scrunt assault Farber the next time it sees him? What are the rules of engagement here? Where is the jeopardy to the world of humans?
Giamatti is marvelous as a tortured soul whose damaged life may get resuscitated in this close encounter with a narf. Howard makes a beguiling, sculptural, waif-like being, but the role is more ephemeral than her one in Shyamalan's "The Village." All the other character actors are splendid but Cheung does stand out as a human who also exists in two parallel worlds, her mother's traditional home and the All-American life she embraces with such alacrity.
Lady in the Water
By Kirk Honeycutt
Bottom line: A fairy-tale world exists inside the quotidian but most of the magic remain locked up inside writer-director M. Night Shyamalan's head.
Writer-director M. Night Shyamalan's latest venture into the paranormal, "Lady in the Water," tries to locate extraordinary events within the ordinary and everyday. The setting is an apartment complex surrounding a swimming pool in suburban Philadelphia.
Nevertheless, living, breathing creatures from a child's bedtime story lurk within its confines. Working with a very talented cast and a strong visual design engineered by cinematographer Christopher Doyle and designer Martin Childs, Shyamalan does project genuine menace and suspense into this mundane location, especially in nighttime scenes. But the magic that would transport you from reality into fantasy is missing. The particulars of the fairy tale are simply too sketchy and convoluted to inspire confidence in its mythology.
Shyamalan's films, taking place in twilight zones far afield from all other Hollywood science-fiction, fantasy and horror, have earned $2 billion in boxoffice and video sales. So clearly there is something about his vision that resonates with audiences. Consequently, "Lady" should open strong, but the lack of any genuine frights or thrills may not sustain a long run.
Paul Giamatti plays the kind of character he does best -- Cleveland Heep, a guy hiding out from life as a caretaker/manager of the Cove Apartments. Lately, from his cottage near the pool, he suspects someone has been swimming in the pool at night against regulations. Pursuing this intruder one night, Cleveland falls into the pool and is rescued by a nymph-like female (Bryce Dallas Howard), who is very quiet and frightened and calls herself Story. She insists she comes from the world of water and that fierce beings want to prevent her return to that world.
One of the movie's conceits is that the Cove is more multi-ethnic than the U.N. So it is from a Korean tenant (June Kyoko Lu) -- whose hip and scantily clothed daughter, Young Soon (Cindy Cheung), provides the translation -- that Cleveland learns of a tale "from the East" that fits the particulars of the water nymph's situation.
Story is a "narf," a creature from the water, and her vicious adversary is a "scrunt," which when it finally becomes visible is a cross between a hyena and wild boar with matted, spiky fur and a really bad temper. The bedtime tale insists that several humans in the area where the narf appears have powers, unknown to themselves, that will enable them to protect and guide her to her destination.
So Cleveland, who buys into this fairy tale without a moment's hesitation, rushes among the tenants to determine which ones fit the necessary roles. His reluctant mentor is the newest tenant, Mr. Farber (Bob Balaban), a prissy and cynical book and film critic, who because he knows every possible plot devise and character thinks he can determine the obvious candidates. (This character must certainly be Shyamalan's revenge against his less friendly critics, but the character nevertheless is a hoot in his icy arrogance.)
Is Mr. Dury (Jeffrey Wright), a loving father with an aptitude for crossword puzzles, the Interpreter of Signs? Is Mrs. Bell (Mary Beth Hurt), a lover of animals, the Healer? Cleveland thinks he may be the Guardian. But how does the unusual bodybuilder Reggie (Freddy Rodriguez), the intellectual but remote Mr. Leeds (Bill Irwin) and an Indian writer and his sister (Shyamalan and Sarita Choudhury) fit in? One very curious thing about all these tenants is that when Cleveland comes to them with his tale of narfs and scrunts, no one looks at him and says he should check into a mental hospital. Not one.
If you take a stab at film fantasy at the level of such Shyamalan favorites as "The Wizard of Oz" and "E.T.," then you must be clear about your other worldly creatures and their goals. Here the film utterly fails. It never quite takes that very necessary step into the wardrobe as "Narnia" most recently did.
This bedtime story comes at a viewer too sporadically and the goals of the opposing forces are too vague. If a narf is a creature of the water, then why should she be rescued by an eagle from the air? If the mere appearance of Farber is enough to stop an imminent attack by a scrunt, then why should the scrunt assault Farber the next time it sees him? What are the rules of engagement here? Where is the jeopardy to the world of humans?
Giamatti is marvelous as a tortured soul whose damaged life may get resuscitated in this close encounter with a narf. Howard makes a beguiling, sculptural, waif-like being, but the role is more ephemeral than her one in Shyamalan's "The Village." All the other character actors are splendid but Cheung does stand out as a human who also exists in two parallel worlds, her mother's traditional home and the All-American life she embraces with such alacrity.
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The Original BJ
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UGH. Mister Tee, you're right. He is a little baby. For a filmmaker to include a clueless and arrogant film critic character in his picture is one of the lamest ways to cover up immature insecurities.Mister Tee wrote:Among their complaints, Disney execs reportedly warned Shyamalan about presenting a clueless film critic as a supporting player, though compared with the pic's other transgressions, that one is harmless. The character appears designed to exact a measure of revenge against those who slighted "The Village" and to inoculate "Lady in the Water" against whatever barbs are hurled its way . . .
. . . Nor does it help that Balaban's arrogant critic keeps discussing movie conventions and cliches in a film that builds toward an unsatisfying and abrupt climax. Reminding the audience where movies fall flat hardly seems advisable.
And those werewolf-beast creatures that appear in the trailer made me laugh as much as the hilarious monsters in The Village. Does he not realize that the unknown is far scarier than any lame-brained CGI creature he could come up with?
Why have his cameos gotten bigger and bigger? Now he's a major character? His cameo practically ruined what should have been the most dramatic arc in Signs, and I rolled my eyes as soon as I saw him in The Village. Plus, it's not like this guy can act.
I didn't think Shyamalan could get any more pompous, but that review sealed the deal.
I think I'll be seeing Monster House this weekend. Even a goddamn cartoon looks much more entertaining than this.
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Mister Tee
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Critics weigh in, and it's not pretty.
Lady in the Water
A Warner Bros. release presented in association with Legendary Pictures of a Blinding Edge Pictures production. Produced by M. Night Shyamalan, Sam Mercer. Directed, written by M. Night Shyamalan.
Cleveland Heep - Paul Giamatti
Story - Bryce Dallas Howard
Mr. Dury - Jeffrey Wright
Harry Farber - Bob Balaban
Anna Ran - Sarita Choudhury
Young-Soon Choi - Cindy Cheung
Vick Ran - M. Night Shyamalan
Reggie - Freddy Rodriguez
Mr. Leeds - Bill Irwin
Mrs. Bell - Mary Beth Hurt
By BRIAN LOWRY
Vindication is rarely as swift or complete as that likely awaiting the Disney execs who passed on M. Night Shyamalan's latest effort "Lady in the Water." After Disney balked, the director carted the project to Burbank neighbor Warner Bros., then lambasted his former studio for a lack of vision in a tie-in, tell-some book. Disney's misgivings were well founded, as Shyamalan has followed "The Village" with another disappointment -- a ponderous, self-indulgent bedtime tale. Awkwardly positioned, this gloomy gothic fantasy falls well short of horror, leaving grim theatrical prospects beyond whatever curiosity the filmmaker's reputation and the mini-controversy can scare up.
Although Shyamalan indicates in the storybook-style animated opening sequence that the story is derived from ancient myth, his perplexing creation stimulates a nagging sense that he's simply making it up as he goes along. (This is apparently the case, as the production notes say the idea "began as an impromptu bedtime story for his two young daughters.")
Among their complaints, Disney execs reportedly warned Shyamalan about presenting a clueless film critic as a supporting player, though compared with the pic's other transgressions, that one is harmless. The character appears designed to exact a measure of revenge against those who slighted "The Village" and to inoculate "Lady in the Water" against whatever barbs are hurled its way.
That rather gratuitous plot point, however, coupled with the writer-director-producer's expansion of his traditional Hitchcockian cameos into a pivotal role, does flavor the film with a distracting hint of self-absorption.
If Shyamalan's earlier works hinged on a clever twist or big surprise (think "The Sixth Sense" and "Unbreakable," and, less successfully, "The Village"), "Lady" telegraphs its intentions from the outset.
The lady in question, Story ("Village" star Bryce Dallas Howard), is a "Narf" -- a sea nymph from The Blue World who has taken up residence in the swimming pool of the Cove apartments, which no one will confuse with "Melrose Place."
The complex is home to an eclectic group of misfits, beginning with Cleveland Heep (Paul Giamatti), its emotionally wounded superintendent, who discovers Story and takes it upon himself to help the naked nymph fulfill her mission and return home, a task that will require the aid of various tenants. Throughout, she's in danger of attack by another Blue World visitor, the Scrunt, a werewolf-like creature that bears a passing resemblance to the "beasts" in "The Village."
Story is alternately fearful and full of other-worldly serenity, forcing Cleveland to elicit clues regarding the myth and how best to assist her from Young-Soon (Cindy Cheung), whose Korean-speaking mother is well versed in Narf lore. Others helping decipher the scheme include the aforementioned critic (Bob Balaban); a would-be writer (Shyamalan) and his sister (Sarita Choudhury); and a wordsmith (Jeffrey Wright) who excels at crossword puzzles.
Shyamalan's script is its own kind of puzzle, albeit one that never connects and generally handcuffs the large cast. Giamatti is appropriately schlubby and dour as the Everyman thrust into the organizing role, while Howard can never get much beyond a vacant, beatific stare. Only Cheung brings much vitality to the proceedings, and that's by jabbering away in fast-talking Pidgin English that's mostly silly but to some might border on offensive.
Nor does it help that Balaban's arrogant critic keeps discussing movie conventions and cliches in a film that builds toward an unsatisfying and abrupt climax. Reminding the audience where movies fall flat hardly seems advisable.
Tech credits similarly fail to impress, including the fleetingly glimpsed creature effects, which, given the marginal level of suspense, hardly seem to justify a PG-13 rating.
What's most acutely lacking, though, is magic equal to the movie's fairy-tale underpinnings -- starting with the enticing, childlike notion of something mysterious living in the swimming pool. Establishing a sense of fantasy, beyond James Newton Howard's hard-working score, might help people accept that a sort-of mermaid has moved in next door.
Instead, much of the action is confined to Story taking refuge in Cleveland's depressing flat, and the narrative proves a bit too intense for younger tykes yet neither exciting nor engaging enough to galvanize adults.
By publicly harpooning Disney, Shyamalan has rendered a kind of service -- illustrating how filmmakers can lose perspective on passion projects. Whatever the rationale behind the criticism, however, after using "Lady in the Water" to tuck in the kids, it should have been tucked away.
Lady in the Water
A Warner Bros. release presented in association with Legendary Pictures of a Blinding Edge Pictures production. Produced by M. Night Shyamalan, Sam Mercer. Directed, written by M. Night Shyamalan.
Cleveland Heep - Paul Giamatti
Story - Bryce Dallas Howard
Mr. Dury - Jeffrey Wright
Harry Farber - Bob Balaban
Anna Ran - Sarita Choudhury
Young-Soon Choi - Cindy Cheung
Vick Ran - M. Night Shyamalan
Reggie - Freddy Rodriguez
Mr. Leeds - Bill Irwin
Mrs. Bell - Mary Beth Hurt
By BRIAN LOWRY
Vindication is rarely as swift or complete as that likely awaiting the Disney execs who passed on M. Night Shyamalan's latest effort "Lady in the Water." After Disney balked, the director carted the project to Burbank neighbor Warner Bros., then lambasted his former studio for a lack of vision in a tie-in, tell-some book. Disney's misgivings were well founded, as Shyamalan has followed "The Village" with another disappointment -- a ponderous, self-indulgent bedtime tale. Awkwardly positioned, this gloomy gothic fantasy falls well short of horror, leaving grim theatrical prospects beyond whatever curiosity the filmmaker's reputation and the mini-controversy can scare up.
Although Shyamalan indicates in the storybook-style animated opening sequence that the story is derived from ancient myth, his perplexing creation stimulates a nagging sense that he's simply making it up as he goes along. (This is apparently the case, as the production notes say the idea "began as an impromptu bedtime story for his two young daughters.")
Among their complaints, Disney execs reportedly warned Shyamalan about presenting a clueless film critic as a supporting player, though compared with the pic's other transgressions, that one is harmless. The character appears designed to exact a measure of revenge against those who slighted "The Village" and to inoculate "Lady in the Water" against whatever barbs are hurled its way.
That rather gratuitous plot point, however, coupled with the writer-director-producer's expansion of his traditional Hitchcockian cameos into a pivotal role, does flavor the film with a distracting hint of self-absorption.
If Shyamalan's earlier works hinged on a clever twist or big surprise (think "The Sixth Sense" and "Unbreakable," and, less successfully, "The Village"), "Lady" telegraphs its intentions from the outset.
The lady in question, Story ("Village" star Bryce Dallas Howard), is a "Narf" -- a sea nymph from The Blue World who has taken up residence in the swimming pool of the Cove apartments, which no one will confuse with "Melrose Place."
The complex is home to an eclectic group of misfits, beginning with Cleveland Heep (Paul Giamatti), its emotionally wounded superintendent, who discovers Story and takes it upon himself to help the naked nymph fulfill her mission and return home, a task that will require the aid of various tenants. Throughout, she's in danger of attack by another Blue World visitor, the Scrunt, a werewolf-like creature that bears a passing resemblance to the "beasts" in "The Village."
Story is alternately fearful and full of other-worldly serenity, forcing Cleveland to elicit clues regarding the myth and how best to assist her from Young-Soon (Cindy Cheung), whose Korean-speaking mother is well versed in Narf lore. Others helping decipher the scheme include the aforementioned critic (Bob Balaban); a would-be writer (Shyamalan) and his sister (Sarita Choudhury); and a wordsmith (Jeffrey Wright) who excels at crossword puzzles.
Shyamalan's script is its own kind of puzzle, albeit one that never connects and generally handcuffs the large cast. Giamatti is appropriately schlubby and dour as the Everyman thrust into the organizing role, while Howard can never get much beyond a vacant, beatific stare. Only Cheung brings much vitality to the proceedings, and that's by jabbering away in fast-talking Pidgin English that's mostly silly but to some might border on offensive.
Nor does it help that Balaban's arrogant critic keeps discussing movie conventions and cliches in a film that builds toward an unsatisfying and abrupt climax. Reminding the audience where movies fall flat hardly seems advisable.
Tech credits similarly fail to impress, including the fleetingly glimpsed creature effects, which, given the marginal level of suspense, hardly seem to justify a PG-13 rating.
What's most acutely lacking, though, is magic equal to the movie's fairy-tale underpinnings -- starting with the enticing, childlike notion of something mysterious living in the swimming pool. Establishing a sense of fantasy, beyond James Newton Howard's hard-working score, might help people accept that a sort-of mermaid has moved in next door.
Instead, much of the action is confined to Story taking refuge in Cleveland's depressing flat, and the narrative proves a bit too intense for younger tykes yet neither exciting nor engaging enough to galvanize adults.
By publicly harpooning Disney, Shyamalan has rendered a kind of service -- illustrating how filmmakers can lose perspective on passion projects. Whatever the rationale behind the criticism, however, after using "Lady in the Water" to tuck in the kids, it should have been tucked away.
Sabin,
I could be wrong but I seem to recall a number of people on this board who thought "The Sixth Sense" was far superior to any of the films nominated in 1999 (I am one of them and I think Damien is too). The Oscars had passed on truly wonderful films that fell within their scope like "The Talented Mr. Ripley", "Three Kings", "Being John Malkovich", "Princess Mononoke", "All About My Mother", and "Boys Don't Cry" (to name a few), and chose instead to make the year a battle between the overrated "American Beauty" and the insipid "The Cider House Rules", with the rest as place fillers happy just to be nominated. "The Insider" was well made with a nice performance by Russell Crowe but nothing outstanding, and I STILL don't know what the hell "The Green Mile" was doing there. I mean really, what the f-ck? By the time we had been through the Globes and the Guild Awards, I didn't think we had to worry about Frank Darabont's latest sap-crap, but there it was, occupying the space that should have gone to, well...just about any other film in serious contention that year.
And then there was "The Sixth Sense." Seen by many in the Roger Ebert world as the well made blockbuster that had no real business being in the big leagues against the more "serious" films (I know he liked "Sense" but he was apeshit crazy over "Beauty", "Mile" and "Insider") but I remember a number of people on this board thinking exactly the opposite - that it was easy to gravitate towards Shaymalan's film as the only one with any real artistic skill and narrative urgency. I was a lurker at the time and everyone in my life who watched the Oscars disagreed with me, and I remember finding wonderful consolation here.
Aww, good times. I love you guys!
I could be wrong but I seem to recall a number of people on this board who thought "The Sixth Sense" was far superior to any of the films nominated in 1999 (I am one of them and I think Damien is too). The Oscars had passed on truly wonderful films that fell within their scope like "The Talented Mr. Ripley", "Three Kings", "Being John Malkovich", "Princess Mononoke", "All About My Mother", and "Boys Don't Cry" (to name a few), and chose instead to make the year a battle between the overrated "American Beauty" and the insipid "The Cider House Rules", with the rest as place fillers happy just to be nominated. "The Insider" was well made with a nice performance by Russell Crowe but nothing outstanding, and I STILL don't know what the hell "The Green Mile" was doing there. I mean really, what the f-ck? By the time we had been through the Globes and the Guild Awards, I didn't think we had to worry about Frank Darabont's latest sap-crap, but there it was, occupying the space that should have gone to, well...just about any other film in serious contention that year.
And then there was "The Sixth Sense." Seen by many in the Roger Ebert world as the well made blockbuster that had no real business being in the big leagues against the more "serious" films (I know he liked "Sense" but he was apeshit crazy over "Beauty", "Mile" and "Insider") but I remember a number of people on this board thinking exactly the opposite - that it was easy to gravitate towards Shaymalan's film as the only one with any real artistic skill and narrative urgency. I was a lurker at the time and everyone in my life who watched the Oscars disagreed with me, and I remember finding wonderful consolation here.
Aww, good times. I love you guys!
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Eric
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- Contact:
I sort of remember being in the minority on the OG forums back in the day for not being a major fan of The Sixth Sense, thinking, as I still do, that Blair Witch was a far more interesting concept -- and now, in retrospect, that Unbreakable is a much more confident piece of filmmaking. On the other hand, I didn't make it through Signs; thought The Village was slightly underrated but not to the point of going out of my way to defend it.
Nothing M. Night Shamalan has ever done or ever will do, though, could match the lack of inspiration from that list of his favorite movies that accompanied the Newsweek article.
To refresh memories:
The Godfather
The Exorcist
Jaws
Raiders of the Lost Ark
The Silence of the Lambs
Rocky
Dead Poet's Society
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Star Wars
Psycho
Hell, I might've even liked the list a little bit more had he included one of his own movies (i.e. the one that made the most money). He is the AFI.
Nothing M. Night Shamalan has ever done or ever will do, though, could match the lack of inspiration from that list of his favorite movies that accompanied the Newsweek article.
To refresh memories:
The Godfather
The Exorcist
Jaws
Raiders of the Lost Ark
The Silence of the Lambs
Rocky
Dead Poet's Society
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Star Wars
Psycho
Hell, I might've even liked the list a little bit more had he included one of his own movies (i.e. the one that made the most money). He is the AFI.
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Mister Tee
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This thread has gone on long enough I'm inspired to comment.
I saw Sixth Sense late -- it was the year my wife had surgery, and we caught most late-summer films in their dying days. By then I had heard enough from Ebert and (then temporary TV partner) Elivis Mitchell that the big trick became clear to my by the end of th first scene. In spite of that, I thought it was a well-made, well-acted effort. And, on the whole, I'm pleased whenever the big hit of the season is something that catches the entire entertainment-industrial complex off-guard, so my feelings were positive.
I'll also cop to liking Unbreakable. It was considerably more uneven than Sixth, and I could see people considering the ending ludicrous, but I give points for audacity (same as I do to other movies -- like Moulin Rouge, or Breaking the Waves -- that take a lunatic notion and walk off the end of the earth with it).
Signs, on the other hand, I thought was unadulterated crap. Forget the jacked-up "crisis of faith" (which, in American movies, only occur to be resolved in favor of the clergy); forget the essential War of the Worlds rip-off (down to the "one simple element kills them off" ending); forget even Shyamalan's embarrassing cameo (which, um, sort of telegraphed the ending). Even beyond that, you had some of the most laborious plotting I've ever seen in a movie trying to be taken seriously -- all that stuff about "swing away" had no function except to provide a thus-predictable climax. Bad movie.
Which, of course, got him a Newsweek cover, in which he further alienated me by holding forth on what a cultural giant he'd become (Just me and Spielberg; no one else comes close).
By the time of The Village -- on which I passed till home video -- I fully expected, and got, more of the same: another lame-ass "shock" ending (which would have been right at home in Archie's Mad House c. 1963), and ever more clunky plotting (it had to be a blind girl; it had to be a feeble-minded kid). By now my attitude toward Shyamalan matched Barbara Bush's toward Al Franken -- "I'm done with you".
(Actually, Homer Simpson said it best. When told he had another, previously-unrevealed father whose name began with "M", he mused "Could it be M. Night Shyamalan? Wouldn't that make a twist for one of his increasingly crappy movies")
I don't know if everyone read the EW excerpt from this book, but what's shocking is not just what an egomaniac M. Night is, but what a baby. When the studio folk offer up criticism of his script, his response is that, in attacking his work, they're rejecting HIM. This is a not insignificant feeling with which many in the arts start out -- and maybe they never completely rid themselves of it -- but they damn well better learn to sublimate it if they expect people to view them as professional. Do he and his co-author expect me to read this and then sympathize?
I saw Sixth Sense late -- it was the year my wife had surgery, and we caught most late-summer films in their dying days. By then I had heard enough from Ebert and (then temporary TV partner) Elivis Mitchell that the big trick became clear to my by the end of th first scene. In spite of that, I thought it was a well-made, well-acted effort. And, on the whole, I'm pleased whenever the big hit of the season is something that catches the entire entertainment-industrial complex off-guard, so my feelings were positive.
I'll also cop to liking Unbreakable. It was considerably more uneven than Sixth, and I could see people considering the ending ludicrous, but I give points for audacity (same as I do to other movies -- like Moulin Rouge, or Breaking the Waves -- that take a lunatic notion and walk off the end of the earth with it).
Signs, on the other hand, I thought was unadulterated crap. Forget the jacked-up "crisis of faith" (which, in American movies, only occur to be resolved in favor of the clergy); forget the essential War of the Worlds rip-off (down to the "one simple element kills them off" ending); forget even Shyamalan's embarrassing cameo (which, um, sort of telegraphed the ending). Even beyond that, you had some of the most laborious plotting I've ever seen in a movie trying to be taken seriously -- all that stuff about "swing away" had no function except to provide a thus-predictable climax. Bad movie.
Which, of course, got him a Newsweek cover, in which he further alienated me by holding forth on what a cultural giant he'd become (Just me and Spielberg; no one else comes close).
By the time of The Village -- on which I passed till home video -- I fully expected, and got, more of the same: another lame-ass "shock" ending (which would have been right at home in Archie's Mad House c. 1963), and ever more clunky plotting (it had to be a blind girl; it had to be a feeble-minded kid). By now my attitude toward Shyamalan matched Barbara Bush's toward Al Franken -- "I'm done with you".
(Actually, Homer Simpson said it best. When told he had another, previously-unrevealed father whose name began with "M", he mused "Could it be M. Night Shyamalan? Wouldn't that make a twist for one of his increasingly crappy movies")
I don't know if everyone read the EW excerpt from this book, but what's shocking is not just what an egomaniac M. Night is, but what a baby. When the studio folk offer up criticism of his script, his response is that, in attacking his work, they're rejecting HIM. This is a not insignificant feeling with which many in the arts start out -- and maybe they never completely rid themselves of it -- but they damn well better learn to sublimate it if they expect people to view them as professional. Do he and his co-author expect me to read this and then sympathize?
I'm probably in the minority but I think The Sixth Sense should've won the Oscar in its field (either that or The Insider; Shyamalan's film took me more by surprise, and not twisty surprise either). Watching the film and being aware that there was a twist ending and nearing the very end, I had formed the conclusion that the twist itself was that it started out as an effective, atmospheric suspense movie had succeeded in making me care about the characters, that it became a movie about hope and connection. The twist itself is fun to figure out, but it's a whole package.
I don't think Shyamalan's going to top it, but even while I find his worldview simplistic and at times distasteful, his films show a large degree of artistry. I'm fine with Unbreakable and don't really understand the backlash; when Signs is not absolutely horrible (and at least half of it truly is), it's skillful and enjoyable; and The Village is just entirely unfortunate. He's called Signs his most 'popcorn' movie, and if only he had truly adhered to the 50's/60's sci-fi genre film logic it could've been something. But Shyamalan is not content to allow for any ambiguity in his work; he has to spell out every miracle, shooting what ever grace his film has elicited in the foot and crippling his film.
I can only hope that Lady in the Water follows in the grand tradition of Shyamalan's growing failure as a screenwriter, his leash will be tightened and his cut taken away, maybe forced to direct a movie he didn't write and will not be allowed to touch and take a long hard look in the mirror. Who knows? He might actually make an *entirely* good movie again.
I don't think Shyamalan's going to top it, but even while I find his worldview simplistic and at times distasteful, his films show a large degree of artistry. I'm fine with Unbreakable and don't really understand the backlash; when Signs is not absolutely horrible (and at least half of it truly is), it's skillful and enjoyable; and The Village is just entirely unfortunate. He's called Signs his most 'popcorn' movie, and if only he had truly adhered to the 50's/60's sci-fi genre film logic it could've been something. But Shyamalan is not content to allow for any ambiguity in his work; he has to spell out every miracle, shooting what ever grace his film has elicited in the foot and crippling his film.
I can only hope that Lady in the Water follows in the grand tradition of Shyamalan's growing failure as a screenwriter, his leash will be tightened and his cut taken away, maybe forced to direct a movie he didn't write and will not be allowed to touch and take a long hard look in the mirror. Who knows? He might actually make an *entirely* good movie again.
"How's the despair?"
Thank god someone else has spoken up about not liking The Sixth (non)Sense. I tried to like it, really, but didn't at all. Other than the big "surprise" (which really isn't hard to figure out), I don't really think there's much there.VanHelsing wrote:This might be the first movie where I get to see Bryce Dallas Howard in action. But I think I will be disappointed with the film, just like all of Shyamalan's previous works (yes, including Sixth Sense).
I agree, Big Magilla. I was lucky enough not to know the secret (and I didn't figure it out until the end, d'oh!) but the film is incredibly fulfilling either way.
Wes, you ought to check it out if for no other reason than to see Haley Joel Osment and especially Toni Collette's haunting performances. Collette's scene in the car at the end of the film is brilliant.
It's also fun to see a pre-whore/anorexic Mischa Barton.
Wes, you ought to check it out if for no other reason than to see Haley Joel Osment and especially Toni Collette's haunting performances. Collette's scene in the car at the end of the film is brilliant.
It's also fun to see a pre-whore/anorexic Mischa Barton.
"The mantle of spinsterhood was definitely in her shoulders. She was twenty five and looked it."
-Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
-Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell