PANIC ROOM
PANIC ROOM
November 28 2008, DVD, home living room, from library
The sickbed cinema-fest of things I was curious about, but didn't bother to see in theaters continues with this David Fincher techno-thriller about The Kinds Of Problems Rich White People Have (see also: FIGHT CLUB; THE GAME). I'm not complaining; I love Fincher, really and truly, and I have loved literally every single film of his that I've ever seen. (That reminds me: must check out ZODIAC.) This one is no exception, but I think it's my least favorite. Yes, even compared to ALIENS 3, which I think is just wonderful in ways that directly offend, bore, or annoy most other people who have seen it.
PANIC ROOM stars the gorgeous Jodie Foster as a recent divorcee, moving into a gigantic, spooky, four-story new townhome (or "townstone", as it's flippantly referred to by the housing broker, played by the always-exquisite Ann Magnuson) on the Upper East Side with her sullen, diabetic 12-year-old daughter, played by America's Newest Chaste Sweetheart, Kristen Stewart. (Apparently, originally the role had been filled by Hayden Panettiere, who was also 12 at the time, and I wonder what this film would have been like if it starred my favorite li'l whale-lover.) The house, which is a star of the movie all by itself, is 4,200 square feet (which, in that neighborhood, must have cost something like $35 million - jesus christ!), mostly empty, recently vacated by a wealthy dead eccentric, and featuring a ridiculously complex, all-too-easy-to-disarm security system - and the titular panic room, with the video feeds inside it - and the goal! On the first night in the house, some thugs break in, and we've got a movie.
It's an even better movie since the thugs are played by Forrest "Oscar Is My Middle Name" Whittaker as what promises to be the Benevolent Negro (since the setting's all wrong for a Magical one, and it's not Morgan Freeman), Jared "Criminally Underrated" Leto with his hair in K-Fed cornrows, and DWIGHT MOTHERFUCKING YOAKAM. I say it like that because that guy's not only got some chops, he emerges as the breakout star of this film with his chilling portrayal of the requisite fuckin' sociopath, Raoul. Though he plays the first 2/3 of the movie with a ski mask on, he projects a certain kind of icy, inhuman chill that you just can't wait to see ripped away with some kind of vicious revenge - but man, it doesn't come for a long time. With a less compelling performance, I would have been so distracted by hating Raoul that I couldn't enjoy the movie; but Yoakam brings it. If I've ever dissed him, I take it back.
The thugs are after some money. But it doesn't really matter what they're after; they're there to be archetypes so that the twists and turns can fascinate and delight the audience. It's not Hitchcockian; it's far too frenetic and flashy for that. It's much more like a Brian DePalma movie - but really, it's so totally Fincher it's not even funny, down to the monochromatic costume, set design, even the bedding. It's impossible to believe anyone could live in such a colorless world; that's what the violence is there for.
It's a cartoon. It's not supposed to be plausible; nothing about it is, from the moment that the always-welcome Ian Buchanan, as the plummy, eye-rolling realtor, first mentions the square footage, to the Sid Vicious T-shirt the coddled, androgynous, frankly annoying daughter wears, to the fact that Jodie Foster's ex-husband, played by the (I repeat myself) always-welcome (but here underutilized) Patrick Bachau, is in "pharmeceuticals", hence the wealth. It's all just a bit of fun. Apparently this movie was hell on a stick to make; I believe it, especially for Jodie, because she has to fight for her life - and she sold that shit to me with extras. She's the only believable thing in the film, but she's the only thing that needs to be. SUCCESS!
Loved it. Recommended for fans of thrizzlers, especially those with female leads, and of course, fans of Fincher (surely there are some, right?).
November 28 2008, DVD, home living room, from library
The sickbed cinema-fest of things I was curious about, but didn't bother to see in theaters continues with this David Fincher techno-thriller about The Kinds Of Problems Rich White People Have (see also: FIGHT CLUB; THE GAME). I'm not complaining; I love Fincher, really and truly, and I have loved literally every single film of his that I've ever seen. (That reminds me: must check out ZODIAC.) This one is no exception, but I think it's my least favorite. Yes, even compared to ALIENS 3, which I think is just wonderful in ways that directly offend, bore, or annoy most other people who have seen it.
PANIC ROOM stars the gorgeous Jodie Foster as a recent divorcee, moving into a gigantic, spooky, four-story new townhome (or "townstone", as it's flippantly referred to by the housing broker, played by the always-exquisite Ann Magnuson) on the Upper East Side with her sullen, diabetic 12-year-old daughter, played by America's Newest Chaste Sweetheart, Kristen Stewart. (Apparently, originally the role had been filled by Hayden Panettiere, who was also 12 at the time, and I wonder what this film would have been like if it starred my favorite li'l whale-lover.) The house, which is a star of the movie all by itself, is 4,200 square feet (which, in that neighborhood, must have cost something like $35 million - jesus christ!), mostly empty, recently vacated by a wealthy dead eccentric, and featuring a ridiculously complex, all-too-easy-to-disarm security system - and the titular panic room, with the video feeds inside it - and the goal! On the first night in the house, some thugs break in, and we've got a movie.
It's an even better movie since the thugs are played by Forrest "Oscar Is My Middle Name" Whittaker as what promises to be the Benevolent Negro (since the setting's all wrong for a Magical one, and it's not Morgan Freeman), Jared "Criminally Underrated" Leto with his hair in K-Fed cornrows, and DWIGHT MOTHERFUCKING YOAKAM. I say it like that because that guy's not only got some chops, he emerges as the breakout star of this film with his chilling portrayal of the requisite fuckin' sociopath, Raoul. Though he plays the first 2/3 of the movie with a ski mask on, he projects a certain kind of icy, inhuman chill that you just can't wait to see ripped away with some kind of vicious revenge - but man, it doesn't come for a long time. With a less compelling performance, I would have been so distracted by hating Raoul that I couldn't enjoy the movie; but Yoakam brings it. If I've ever dissed him, I take it back.
The thugs are after some money. But it doesn't really matter what they're after; they're there to be archetypes so that the twists and turns can fascinate and delight the audience. It's not Hitchcockian; it's far too frenetic and flashy for that. It's much more like a Brian DePalma movie - but really, it's so totally Fincher it's not even funny, down to the monochromatic costume, set design, even the bedding. It's impossible to believe anyone could live in such a colorless world; that's what the violence is there for.
It's a cartoon. It's not supposed to be plausible; nothing about it is, from the moment that the always-welcome Ian Buchanan, as the plummy, eye-rolling realtor, first mentions the square footage, to the Sid Vicious T-shirt the coddled, androgynous, frankly annoying daughter wears, to the fact that Jodie Foster's ex-husband, played by the (I repeat myself) always-welcome (but here underutilized) Patrick Bachau, is in "pharmeceuticals", hence the wealth. It's all just a bit of fun. Apparently this movie was hell on a stick to make; I believe it, especially for Jodie, because she has to fight for her life - and she sold that shit to me with extras. She's the only believable thing in the film, but she's the only thing that needs to be. SUCCESS!
Loved it. Recommended for fans of thrizzlers, especially those with female leads, and of course, fans of Fincher (surely there are some, right?).