Who are we if we can’t protect them? We have to protect them.

A Quiet Place

(2018)

(SPOILERS) Movies built on a bedrock of rules usually come a cropper if they pause long enough to allow examination of how closely they adhere to them. Either they have to come out and say it doesn’t really matter (Gremlins 2: The New Batch) or the assembled elements overcome any logical shortcomings. A Quiet Place, John Krasinski’s third feature as director, rewriting a screenplay by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, achieves the latter chiefly through devotion to its characters, but also via a confident grasp of cinematic language.

Actors usually make good directors of actors, even if their visual imagination is often otherwise on the rudimentary side (competent, but lacking flourish). Krasinski doesn’t put a foot wrong with his small cast, including wife Emily Blunt as his character Lee Abbott’s wife Evelyn and a couple of incredibly strong child actor performances from Millicent Simmonds (deaf daughter Regan) and Noah Jupe (terrified son Marcus). But he’s equally sure of himself staging the scares and building the atmospherics. Nothing much happens in the first third of this compact ninety-minute movie – aside from the loss of third child, Cade Woodward’s Beau, whose obsession with a space shuttle proves a disaster – but that attention to establishing the mood, tone and family dynamic pays dividends when the terror begins.

I’m sure that’s the key to why A Quiet Place has garnered such good press and had such a strong opening weekend (which will doubtless grant it staying power as summer blockbuster fare masses on the horizon). As with recent break-out horror hits It and Get Out, its characters and themes (more characters, to be truthful) ensure it reaches a broader audience than the mere genre faithful. It also means its weaknesses are more forgivable and easier to ignore. In essence, Krasinski relies on the horror formula of requiring characters to do stupid things as a means to ratchet up the tension, but he isn’t doing this merely so they can end up with an axe in their back, or a sub-Pitch Black, sub-Cloverfield (apparently, Paramount execs considered the screenplay as a potential part of that series at one point in the development process) CGI-alien chewing on their faces. The monster’s probably the movie’s biggest weakness, actually, in that it’s a bunch of nothing original design-wise, but even then, Krasinski almost entirely overcomes the deficiency through treating its presence with utter conviction and materiality.

Of course, the movie’s strengths don’t mean its structural weaknesses don’t warrant some scrutiny. In terms of escalation, Krasinski does occasionally elicit a groan through the manner he cranks up, or piles on, the dread developments (the near-breaking point for me was the leaky bath, on top of waters breaking and nails through feet and intrusive, pesky aliens making kind-of-Predator noises as they rock up at importune moments). And exposition is preferably judicious rather than clunky; are we expected to believe Lee would have left it as long as he has (400-odd days and counting) to let Marcus know loud noises such as the river can drown out lesser ones such as human activity? The answer is, of course, of course he wouldn’t, particularly since Marcus is clearly also already aware of the potential of diversionary sound effects.

But this leads in turn to other posers. Such as, as the newspaper cuttings evidence, how everyone knows these blind beggars prey on their prey through sensitivity to sound. Thus, it’s only logical that sound might also be used as a means to retaliate against them. It isn’t just that it takes so long for the Abbotts to realise this (thanks to Regan’s acting-up hearing aid; dad may not have managed to fix it, but he’s provided something even better. I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there somewhere); wouldn’t it be the first thing the off-screen authorities and their teams of scientists thought of (apparently not, as the US military is defeated, or hiding out in their underground cities, at any rate)?

There’s also that you’d have thought the Abbots would arm themselves with monster distractors all over their property, not just the couple we hear, and that they’d put anything that might suddenly fall over (like a wall’s length of framed pictures) far out of toppling’s way. And copious quantities of cotton wool. And while they’re at it, why are they just visiting a waterfall to have a conversation? Wouldn’t it be better to live by one? Or something else consistently noisy?

I appreciate it would be difficult to anticipate all potentially undermining factors in a concept like this, though, and Krasinski does a bang-up job maintaining the sustained silence (so much so, the entire audience was respectfully quiet throughout the screening I attended), the signage the entire family knows proving highly fortuitous (I did expect them to be a lot less used to speaking when they did have conversations, though, as that ought to set in after only a few days).

The family dynamic is explored effectively through the horror prism, particularly the relationship between Regan and Lee, the former convinced dad hates her for the death of Beau (she gave him the toy space shuttle), even to the extent that, as dumb as it is, you can see how she’d run away, and the emotional pay off that the last thing her father does is not just tell her but show her how much he loves her.

The position of Lee in this might be the most interesting element. At one point, Evelyn makes him promise to uphold the traditional patriarchal model (“You protect them!”), but he’s in a situation where, at best, he can only fail less badly than others might. He has, after all, initiated the worst possible scenario for the family by impregnating Evelyn with a little miracle that will, sooner or later, be the death of them all. And, as mentioned, its only through error that he provides a means to best the beasts. I’m less convinced by Krasinski’s extoling the picture as a metaphor for US politics than parenthood, however (“You can close your eyes and stick your head in the sand, or you can try to participate in whatever’s going on”) as that reads a lot like grasping at straws of gravitas for what is a fairly standard genre template.

I also appreciated the gung ho, going-all-Ash cliffhanger ending, even if I rather question Evelyn’s bring-it-on spirit when the main thing on her mind would surely be getting her baby to safety (Blunt is giddily good throughout, but we’ve come to expect that by now). Is there any legitimate reason to return to the well here, as writers Woods and Beck have threatened? Since Paramount has made a mint on a cheap picture, obviously. But aside from that, what made this special was the human factor. If whoever makes the sequel can’t replicate that (and I doubt it will be Krasinski), An Even Quieter Place will just be another horror flick.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

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No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

In a few moments, you will have an experience that will seem completely real. It will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed into your conscious awareness.

Brainstorm (1983) (SPOILERS) Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at 60 frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk , and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn his “more real than real” imagery, whereas Lee’s pretty much boiled down to “because it was there”). Brainstorm ’s story is, though, like its title, possibly too cerebral, too much concerned with the consciousness and touting too little of the cloyingly affirmative that Bruce Rubin inevitably brings to his screenplays. T

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded The Premise George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) (SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek , but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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