Skip to main content

Do not mention the Tiptoe Man ever again.

Glass
(2019)

(SPOILERS) If nothing else, one has to admire M Night Shyamalan’s willingness to plough ahead regardless with his straight-faced storytelling, taking him into areas that encourage outright rejection or merciless ridicule, with all the concomitant charges of hubris. Reactions to Glass have been mixed at best, but mostly more characteristic of the period he plummeted from his must-see, twist-master pedestal (during the period of The Village and The Happening), which is to say quite scornful. And yet, this is very clearly the story he wanted to tell, so if he undercuts audience expectations and leaves them dissatisfied, it’s most definitely not a result of miscalculation on his part. For my part, while I’d been prepared for a disappointment on the basis of the critical response, I came away very much enjoying the movie, by and large.


Ironically, for all those proclaiming Unbreakable an unvarnished classic, the precipitous box office drop off of that movie experienced, following the anticipation The Sixth Sense had instilled, looks to be repeated here in a somewhat lesser capacity, the success of Split and promise of a surprise trilogy capper undermined by it notbeing the sort-of sequel and trilogy capper audiences believed they’d been promised. I wasn’t fully on board with Split; Shyamalan as director was firing on all cylinders, James McAvoy revelled in his multiple roles, and Anya Taylor-Joy delivered a performance possibly too sensitive for the material, as that material was a dubious blend of schlocky and serious that felt exploitative when dealing with the crucial child abuse element. 


I wrote in my review that I suspected Taylor-Joy’s Casey would be underserved by the sequel, and it would further underscore denying her a fully cathartic ending in Split. That’s confirmed here, with Casey very much on the periphery (identified with other satellites to the superheroes/villains). There are a couple of interesting scenes as she draws on her sensitivity and connection with Kevin – able to identify with the victim rather than the aggressor(s) – to break down the resistance of his other personalities, but if Shyamalan was really interested in her agency he wouldn’t have brought Bruce and Sam into the scenario at all (although, if there’s a lesson to take from Glass, it’s that such agency would likely leave her dead).


Having done so, though, what to make of Shyamalan’s meshing of material? Or should that be re-embroidering, as he has stated Kevin was originally part of a much larger version of Unbreakable that needed paring down? McAvoy is as committed to the part as before, with added bounding around in daylight as a slightly silly-looking version of already silly-looking X-Men Origins: Wolverine’s Sabretooth, but the performance is now effectively a parlour trick, divested of the fear factor frisson it carried first time round. It’s Anthony Hopkins trotting out Lecter for the umpteenth time, purely to revel in the ham. There’s a lot of fun to be had from McAvoy, as he fills the screen equally and oppositely to his co-stars’ (mostly) underplaying. But there’s also the way his in-camera transitions between characters take on the slightly stilted manner of an impressionist switching personas mid-routine, right down to having to say who they are now. 


To an extent, though, the performing seal aspect of Kevin in Glass, and more especially The Beast, is a purposeful function of Shyamalan’s setup, designed to put the three pro/antagonists at the mercy of Sarah Paulson’s Dr Ellie Staple. Anyone familiar with Shyamalan’s twist oeuvre would, having seen the trailer, have had reasonable suspicion that Staple’s agenda wouldn’t solely be convincing these patients that they didn’t actually possess the superpowers they believed they did, so the due reveal, the second of three game-changers in the third act, is only really a surprise for the precise nature of what she’s up to, rather than that she’s up to it. She works for a clandestine, strings-pulling group with three-leafed clovers tattooed on their wrists, bent on convincing the world superheroes don’t exist and eradicating all evidence of them where they do.


The manner in which Shyamalan makes explicit the tropes and themes of superhero literature during the second and third acts puts anything Unbreakable does in that regard firmly in the shade, since we have not just Samuel L Jackson’s Mr Glass but also Dr Staple, Casey and Joseph Dunn (a returning Spencer Treat Clark – I didn’t even realise he was still acting, albeit in the intervening period I’d only have seen him in Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing and an episode of Mad Men) extolling or denouncing the impact and authenticity of comic books. The sheer foregrounding at times feels consciously absurdist, except that Shyamalan is dead serious about his theme, thus continuing seamlessly from Unbreakable (although, ironically, even as a relative comic book luddite, it’s clear that in both movies he’s playing fast and loose with their rules and attributes for dramatic effect). 


And, being a grounded envisioning of the genre, and a low budget – $20m, about a quarter of Unbreakable’s price tag two decades ago, and self-financed by Shyamalan – one at that, Glass must reduce the grandstanding elements and themes to a more pedestrian scale. This is most obviously achieved with the knowing wink of climaxing proceedings in a newly opening tower block (not Nakatomi Plaza) that never comes to pass, and instead settling on a carpark (why not, it worked for Civil War). Thematically, though, Shyamalan effects this by killing off all his supers. Sure, superhero fare does this all the time, only to resurrect them (last year’s biggest movie, please stand up), but there are no end credit extensions on this occasion. On the one hand, it’s an audience-adverse move, although last year’s biggest movie, please stand up. On the other, it’s a move clearly calculated to instil uplift of a different sort, the triumph spelled by revealing superheroes to the world, encouraging the downtrodden masses to have something aspire to and believe in. If that really does make it an origin story, though, Shyamalan is obliged to follow through at some point.


It’s this final reveal for me that represents the picture’s stumble, though, rather than structural choices, character fates or meta-content that can be, at times, too on-the-nose and leading. Mr Glass’s big idea, the one that makes him an incomparable genius and Brainiac, is to broadcast undeniable proof of superheroes to Philadelphia (and thus the world); this is why his chosen climax is much, much bigger than a rooftop brawl atop and exploding skyscraper. Except… why does anyone believe it? More to the point, they believe it because, rather than being consigned to YouTube, the national news has confirmed it; but how did it end up there? Evidently, the media is much more robust, independent and immune to fake news in the Shyamalan-verse.


Ultimately, I don’t believe that everyone believes it, and I don’t believe that, if they hadn’t been able to spike the programme in the first place, the Three Clovers couldn’t put out a counter story that wouldn’t have the majority of people, those who didn’t want their world rocked, going on about the business on being assured it was an elaborate hoax. One can’t help but feel – not withstanding that it unaccountably appears to have worked – that Elijah’s genius belongs to another era, perhaps one where people believed anything they saw on TV, around and about the Golden Age of Comic Books, maybe (or maybe he just isn’t that smart; after all, his thesis on comic books being documentaries is batshit crazy by any universe’s standards).


With regard to the other “twist”, that of the fate of Kevin’s father, the only surprise would have been if Shyamalan hadn’t gone that route, it having been pretty roundly discussed and agreed in the wake of Split and how the Unbreakable world would converge with it. As to the return of these characters? Jackson’s having lots of fun as Price, and clearly relishes the role, even when he’s spending most of his opening scenes doing little but twitching. It’s a big part, but also a “proper” acting one; so much of what he does these days, Tarantino-aside, comes from casting “Sam Jackson” rather than giving him something to sink his teeth into. Plus, Elijah Price has some good beats throughout that justify his notional smarts, from manipulating the workings of the facility to appealing to the Beast as a champion of the downtrodden, until it’s revealed that he trod down another, one who reserves the Beast’s first allegiance.


Bruce Willis, I was understandably trepidatious about, since he only cares these days if he’s working with Wes Anderson (maybe Motherless Brooklyn will be another). The additional problem is that David Dunn is such a subdued character anyway, you’re unlikely to notice even if he is trying. So, I thought he was solid, in as much as he effectively services a largely reactive role. Actually, his early scenes with Joseph are really good, economically establishing their father-son crimefighting partnership and their current status as a family (a shame about M Night needing to over-do his cameo in the middle of it). And there’s a good play for embedding the iconic stature of his alter ego, albeit this is mostly established by Kevin’s personalities’ response to an equal; it’s actually fairly believable that both David and Joseph might doubt his abilities after all this time, because, as Glass notes, what kind of threat has he really had to contend with? As for drowning Bruce in a puddle, it isn’t exactly a career apogee; indeed, it might be seen as a meta-commentary of sorts.


If anything, the first act of Glass plays out exactly as you’d probably expect of the advertised sequel to Unbreakable/ Split, and very satisfyingly in those terms. The second slips into a slow, talky space that I found equally enjoyable in its own way – I can see why some might have mentally checked out at this point, but I found the interactions and thematic explorations engrossing – and much more in line with Unbreakable’s earnest discourse. The third is probably the least successful, but deserves credit it for what it was trying; it nearlypulls it off, and it’s definitely the better for it than playing it safe and opting for something more standardised. There are nice touches too, such as the way the surviving parties to the superhero trio became friends without any “lineal” animosity between them (effectively a “generational” proof of the “enemy of my enemy” observation); and since I haven’t mentioned her, Charlayne Woodard’s performance as Elijah’s mother in two different time frames merits particular praise (as do the makeup people for subtly effective work).


Most appear to be pronouncing Glass the dud of the trilogy, but I’d argue it’s easily the most interesting entry; if it lacks the consistency of tone that made Unbreakable so indelible (and occasionally a little risible), it also sidesteps the unpleasantness that characterised parts of Split. The result is Shyamalan at his most wilfully idiosyncratic, commendably charting his own course when, given the opprobrium of recent years, he might easily have ducked and run. If Glass doesn’t entirely pay off, it couldn’t be accused of resting on its laurels.


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

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poor Easy Breezy.

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019)
(SPOILERS) My initial reaction to Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood was mild disbelief that Tarantino managed to hoodwink studios into coming begging to make it, so wilfully perverse is it in disregarding any standard expectations of narrative or plotting. Then I remembered that studios, or studios that aren’t Disney, are desperate for product, and more especially, product that might guarantee them a hit. Quentin’s latest appears to be that, but whether it’s a sufficient one to justify the expense of his absurd vanity project remains to be seen.

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. That doesn’t mea…

You keep a horse in the basement?

The ‘Burbs (1989)
(SPOILERS) The ‘Burbs is Joe Dante’s masterpiece. Or at least, his masterpiece that isn’t his bite-the-hand-that-feeds-you masterpiece Gremlins 2: The New Batch, or his high profile masterpiece Gremlins. Unlike those two, the latter of which bolted out of the gate and took audiences by surprise with it’s black wit subverting the expected Spielberg melange, and the first which was roundly shunned by viewers and critics for being absolutely nothing like the first and waving that fact gleefully under their noses, The ‘Burbs took a while to gain its foothold in the Dante pantheon. 

It came out at a time when there had been a good few movies (not least Dante’s) taking a poke at small town Americana, and it was a Tom Hanks movie when Hanks was still a broad strokes comedy guy (Big had just made him big, Turner and Hooch was a few months away; you know you’ve really made it when you co-star with a pooch). It’s true to say that some, as with say The Big Lebowski, “got it” on fi…

You can’t keep the whole world in the dark about what’s going on. Once they know that a five-mile hunk of rock is going to hit the world at 30,000 miles per hour, the people will want to know what the hell we intend to do about it.

Meteor (1979)
(SPOILERS) In which we find Sean Connery – or his agent, whom he got rid of subsequent to this and Cuba – showing how completely out of touch he was by the late 1970s. Hence hitching his cart to the moribund disaster movie genre just as movie entertainment was being rewritten and stolen from under him. He wasn’t alone, of course – pal Michael Caine would appear in both The Swarm and Beyond the Poseidon Adventure during this period – but Meteor’s lack of commercial appeal was only accentuated by how functional and charmless its star is in it. Some have cited Meteor as the worst movie of his career (Christopher Bray in his book on the actor), but its sin is not one of being outright terrible, rather of being terminally dull.

I just hope my death makes more cents than my life.

Joker (2019)
(SPOILERS) So the murder sprees didn’t happen, and a thousand puff pieces desperate to fan the flames of such events and then told-ya-so have fallen flat on their faces. The biggest takeaway from Joker is not that the movie is an event, when once that seemed plausible but not a given, but that any mainstream press perspective on the picture appears unable to divorce its quality from its alleged or actual politics. Joker may be zeitgeisty, but isn’t another Taxi Driver in terms of cultural import, in the sense that Taxi Driver didn’t have a Taxi Driver in mind when Paul Schrader wrote it. It is, if you like, faux-incendiary, and can only ever play out on that level. It might be more accurately described as a grubbier, grimier (but still polished and glossy) The Talented Ripley, the tale of developing psychopathy, only tailored for a cinemagoing audience with few options left outside of comic book fare.

I mean, I am just a dumb bunny, but, we are good at multiplying.

Zootropolis (2016)
(SPOILERS) The key to Zootropolis’ (or Zootopia as our American cousins refer to it; the European title change being nothing to do with U2, but down to a Danish zoo, it seems, which still doesn’t explain the German title, though) creative success isn’t so much the conceit of its much-vaunted allegory regarding prejudice and equality, or – conversely – the fun to be had riffing on animal stereotypes (simultaneously clever and obvious), or even the appealing central duo voiced by Ginnifier Goodwin (as first rabbit cop Judy Hopps) and Jason Bateman (fox hustler Nick Wilde). It’s coming armed with that rarity for an animation; a well-sustained plot that doesn’t devolve into overblown set pieces or rest on the easy laurels of musical numbers and montages.

So credit’s due to co-directors Byron Howard (Bolt, Tangled) and Rich Moore (of The Simpsons, Futurama, and latterly, the great until it kind of rests on its laurels Wreck-It-Ralph) and Jared Bush (presumably one of the th…

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.

He mobilised the English language and sent it into battle.

Darkest Hour (2017)
(SPOILERS) Watching Joe Wright’s return to the rarefied plane of prestige – and heritage to boot – filmmaking following the execrable folly of the panned Pan, I was struck by the difference an engaged director, one who cares about his characters, makes to material. Only last week, Ridley Scott’s serviceable All the Money in the World made for a pointed illustration of strong material in the hands of someone with no such investment, unless they’re androids. Wright’s dedication to a relatable Winston Churchill ensures that, for the first hour-plus, Darkest Hour is a first-rate affair, a piece of myth-making that barely puts a foot wrong. It has that much in common with Wright’s earlier Word War II tale, Atonement. But then, like Atonement, it comes unstuck.

I can't lie to you about your chances, but... you have my sympathies.

"Predalien" The Alien-Predator-verse ranked
Fox got in there with the shared universe thing long before the current trend. Fortunately for us, once they had their taste of it, they concluded it wasn’t for them. But still, the Predator and Alien franchises are now forever interconnected, and it better justifies a ranking if you have more than six entries on it. So please, enjoy this rundown of the “Predalien”-verse. SPOILERS ensue…
11. Alien vs. Predator: Requiem (2007)
An almost wilfully wrongheaded desecration of both series’ legacies that attempts to make up for AVP’s relative prurience by being as transgressive as possible. Chestbursters explode from small children! Predaliens impregnate pregnant mothers! Maternity wards of babies are munched (off-screen admittedly)! It’s as bad taste as possible, and that’s without the aesthetic disconnect of the Predalien itself, the stupidest idea the series has seen (and that includes the newborn), one that was approved/encouraged by ra…

I take Quaaludes 10-15 times a day for my "back pain", Adderall to stay focused, Xanax to take the edge off, part to mellow me out, cocaine to wake me back up again, and morphine... Well, because it's awesome.

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)
Along with Pain & Gain and The Great Gatsby, The Wolf of Wall Street might be viewed as the completion of a loose 2013 trilogy on the subject of success and excess; the American Dream gone awry. It’s the superior picture to its fellows, by turns enthralling, absurd, outrageous and hilarious. This is the fieriest, most deliriously vibrant picture from the director since the millennium turned. Nevertheless, stood in the company of Goodfellas, the Martin Scorsese film from which The Wolf of Wall Street consciously takes many of its cues, it is found wanting.

I was vaguely familiar with the title, not because I knew much about Jordan Belfort but because the script had been in development for such a long time (Ridley Scott was attached at one time). So part of the pleasure of the film is discovering how widely the story diverges from the Wall Street template. “The Wolf of Wall Street” suggests one who towers over the city like a behemoth, rather than a guy …