Posted on 08/02/2004 6:04:08 AM PDT by BluegrassScholar
M. Night Shyamalan's new film, The Village, begins with one of the director's trademark spooky conceits: a preindustrial village separated from the world by a forest full of monsters. It's an apt metaphor for Shyamalan's own hermetic universe. He lives outside of Philadelphia with his wife and children and insists on shooting most of his films within a day's drive. His movies have their own internal schemas, their own calling cards, their own signature sound effects. And the oh-so-polished presentation leads to the nagging question: Is M. Night a filmmaker or is he a marketing plan?
To understand the Shyamalan phenomenon, turn to his high-school yearbook. In a photograph doctored to look like the cover of Time magazine, M. Night is wearing a bow-tie, cummerbund, tuxedo top, and sneakers. The headlines above the photo read "Best Director" and "N.Y.U. grad takes Hollywood by storm." Born in India and raised in an affluent Philadelphia suburb, M. Night grew up ensconced in the world of regulated suburban achievement: polo shirts, test prep, and college stickers covering the rear window of the Volvo station wagon. He may have wanted to be Spielberg, but money would be the measure of his success.
Wasting no time, Shyamalan graduated NYU early. At the age of 21, he was writing, directing, and producing his first film, Praying With Anger. He played the lead, an Indian-American college student who discovers the spirituality of India. Released in 1992, the movie grossed a meager $7,000 dollars. He next wrote and directed a movie called Wide Awake (1998) for Miramax. It was the story of a sports-loving nun, played by Rosie O' Donnell, who helps a boy find God after his grandfather dies. The rough cut was too treacly even for Harvey Weinstein (a soft-touch for little kid movies, especially foreign ones), who unleashed a legendary speaker-phone tirade that humiliated Shyamalan and made O'Donnell cry.
M. Night Shyamalan's new film, The Village, begins with one of the director's trademark spooky conceits: a preindustrial village separated from the world by a forest full of monsters. It's an apt metaphor for Shyamalan's own hermetic universe. He lives outside of Philadelphia with his wife and children and insists on shooting most of his films within a day's drive. His movies have their own internal schemas, their own calling cards, their own signature sound effects. And the oh-so-polished presentation leads to the nagging question: Is M. Night a filmmaker or is he a marketing plan?
To understand the Shyamalan phenomenon, turn to his high-school yearbook. In a photograph doctored to look like the cover of Time magazine, M. Night is wearing a bow-tie, cummerbund, tuxedo top, and sneakers. The headlines above the photo read "Best Director" and "N.Y.U. grad takes Hollywood by storm." Born in India and raised in an affluent Philadelphia suburb, M. Night grew up ensconced in the world of regulated suburban achievement: polo shirts, test prep, and college stickers covering the rear window of the Volvo station wagon. He may have wanted to be Spielberg, but money would be the measure of his success.
Wasting no time, Shyamalan graduated NYU early. At the age of 21, he was writing, directing, and producing his first film, Praying With Anger. He played the lead, an Indian-American college student who discovers the spirituality of India. Released in 1992, the movie grossed a meager $7,000 dollars. He next wrote and directed a movie called Wide Awake (1998) for Miramax. It was the story of a sports-loving nun, played by Rosie O' Donnell, who helps a boy find God after his grandfather dies. The rough cut was too treacly even for Harvey Weinstein (a soft-touch for little kid movies, especially foreign ones), who unleashed a legendary speaker-phone tirade that humiliated Shyamalan and made O'Donnell cry.
Shyamalan now had two bombs to his name and supported himself by screenwriting. There was, however, one chance to turn things around—a long shot. M. Night was in pursuit of the screenwriter's holy grail: the perfect script, one so redolent of profit, star-friendly roles, and greenlight power that the studio executives simply could not turn it down.
Not only did Shyamalan write that script-The Sixth Sense (1998)—he also realized that he had written that script. He flew to Los Angeles, rented a suite at the Four Seasons, and gave the final draft to his agents on Sunday, telling them to auction it off on Monday. Disney offered him $3 million and promised him he could shoot the film. On the Philadelphia set, Shyamalan somehow transformed himself into a disciplined director. He made the film very simply, with long, soothing takes. He coaxed a good performance out of Bruce Willis by essentially requiring him not to act, while Haley Joel Osment turned in one of the greatest natural performances by a child actor. The movie wasn't like a Spielberg film, except for the feeling that you should call your mother afterwards. The closest influence was Hitchcock: the point-of-view editing, the emotional close-ups of actors, the fixation on detail, and the eerie score. It also adhered to Hitchcock's definition of terror: "If you want the audience to feel the suspense, show them the bomb underneath the table." We knew the ghosts were coming to chat with Haley Joel, and that's why we were under our seats.
The Sixth Sense became one of top 10 grossing films of all time, and what does M. Night do with his newfound power? He stays put in Philadelphia, refusing to move to L.A. and play ball. He creates a local film industry around his productions. And most importantly, he begins the process of burnishing his legend. When a reporter asks him what he wanted his name to mean in the future, he replied, "Originality." Access to his scripts in progress is extremely limited, lest anyone reveal their secrets.
(Excerpt) Read more at slate.msn.com ...
I do disagree that these were still highly disturbed and depressed people. The lasting design of what they did was thought through and deliberate, but flawed. One can argue that the elders "took and oath" and therefore could not go, but what was the point of their whole structure in the first place? It was to preserve the secrecy of the village. Allowing anyone else to go risked betrayal of that secret. But Walker did, so how is it that he kept his oath? It is the difference between the letter of the law and the intent. Walker kept the letter and said "screw the intent" because he couldn't bear to see his daughter suffer when a solution was readily available. In doing so he risked everything (but by golly he kept his oath). The lack of rational thought by people who structured such an elaborate escape is the frustration of the film.
As to why they didn't bring palm pilots, the answer is obvious - it would have wrecked twist at the end. Surely that cannot be allowed after going to such ridiculous screenwriting lengths to provide one.
That first "Dead" movie got me was pretty scary the first time I saw it. Of course, I was an adolescent at the time.
That it was. But they were clearly disturbed and depressed. Non-disturbed, healthy people do not do what they did. They were all traumatized by the violent deaths of loved ones, to the point of retraction into a fantasy world. If this is not "disturbed" I don't know what is.
One can argue that the elders "took and oath" and therefore could not go, but what was the point of their whole structure in the first place? It was to preserve the secrecy of the village. Allowing anyone else to go risked betrayal of that secret. But Walker did, so how is it that he kept his oath?
Indeed, he did indeed risk betrayal of that secret, and the other elders chastised him for this. It would seem that his daughter's impending grief outweighed the risks, for him. I also think that a big theme of the film was that to truly live life, one needs to risk, and to risk for love. This is what he decided his daughter must experience, to have a full life worth living. But it's true just the same that it was a risk, and a betrayal of the "oath". This was a major conflict of the story, of course. Stories can have conflicts. ;-)
Walker kept the letter and said "screw the intent" because he couldn't bear to see his daughter suffer when a solution was readily available. In doing so he risked everything (but by golly he kept his oath). The lack of rational thought by people who structured such an elaborate escape is the frustration of the film.
What you characterize as "lack of rational thought" is merely the playing out of a moral dilemma. Walker found himself in a moral dilemma. There was no "rational" way out of it and anything he chose would have been a betrayal of some value which he held, or another. I'm not sure why you think any of this is a criticism of anything. There is no perfect "rational" way to construct, hold together, and live your life in, such a Village, if only because it is founded on a lie. Seems to me that was one of the points of the story.
As to why they didn't bring palm pilots, the answer is obvious - it would have wrecked twist at the end. Surely that cannot be allowed after going to such ridiculous screenwriting lengths to provide one.
True - Walker's decision to make the community pretend to be in 1897 in every detail only makes sense as something someone would do in his case if they were part of a story which is trying to fool the reader/viewer into thinking it's actually 1897. I'll give you that ;-) There's no denying that this story involved artifice. It was fiction. best,
Pretty much -- everyone was good, but she was absolutely stunning.
On the contrary, the drama and development was done almost entirely in dialog. And the writing of the dialog, and the delivery by the actors, was electric. Even small exchanges often hit the viewer with great force and explained far more than the number of words would indicate. With lesser actors, the dialog wouldn't have worked as effectively, and the whole story would have been strongly diminished.
4) In 2004, no way this place stays secret.
Why not? William Hurt's character *owned* the nature preserve. And the "warden" or whatever he was was clearly "in" on the secret, and part of his job was keeping people away. There was even a comment about paying off politicians to keep planes from flying over it. And who was even *looking* for the village, anyway? They just bought the land (or Walker's father had, he was a philanthropist), and then set it up to be left the hell alone as a "nature preserve" -- no visitors, no trespassing, no hunting, and walled in, with a caretaker whose job it was to keep people out.
6) Why would you, ever, send a blind girl off on an adventure in the woods, with poor directions, to a place she knows nothing about and can't possibly understand. What is a "town" to her anyway?
a) She volunteered to go and wasn't going to let anyone stop her. b) there was even dialog to point out that if any of the young ones had to go, the fact that Ivy was blind was a plus -- she wouldn't see anything that would ruin the illusion or that she could report back to the others. And she was *supposed* two have the two boys as guides, they weren't intending to send a blind woman alone. Then they were to stay back on the road, while Ivy went over the wall to get the medicine, then they were lead her back. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way, the boys were too scared and left her alone.
7) What happened to the two wimps who left her alone in the woods?
They went back to the village. That was made quite clear.
9) Where did all the kids in the Village come from? Way too many for the small number of adults there.
I strongly disagree. They had been there for 25 years at least, maybe 30. The car in the old photo was a 1970's model, and several of the "young" characters were well into their 20's, pushing 30. The original founders would have had no birth control pills (and like old-time farm families, children would be a useful labor pool for chores). Each couple having 5-10 children would not be out of the question. Plus there was time for the earlier children to be old enough to get married and have their *own* children. There were three generations there, at least.
That is, ok, they decided to make the color red "bad," much like some religions think dancing or the number 7 is bad or some other arbitrary thing,
It's not arbitrary. Red is the color of blood. They wanted a taboo against violence and bloodshed. They wanted the children to think that if they spilled blood, the monsters could come and take them away for it.
and the lesson would be that hey, "red ain't so bad, see, we live fine with red in our lives."
Huh?
But no, not this movie. This movie gave us nothing intelligent or even much to think about-- and what kills me is that is should have!
I found it full of brilliant touches. Hours after I saw it, I kept realizing new things which the film provided clues to, but didn't bother spelling out, since it presumed the audience would be smart enough to connect the dots.
This is a film that richly rewards paying close attention, because almost every little exchange has significance. If you miss some, you'll lose parts of the story and the backstory, and it presumes that the viewer doesn't have to be spoonfed information and can figure it out for themselves. From the sorts of things you missed, I get the impression you weren't paying close enough attention while you were watching it.
No, you'd send her with a guide or two who could see. JUST AS THEY DID IN THE MOVIE. Are you sure you were paying enough attention? The fact that the guides chickened out and ran home, leaving her to make the journey alone, wasn't part of their plan.
Logic fault #2: The preserve is a restricted airspace. That is supposed to assure us as to why we never see any airplanes or helicopters.
Right.
C'mon! You mean that none of the kids in the 1890's village ever saw jet trails at dusk or the twinkling lights of aircraft at night?
And what if they did? Think about it. Vapor trails in the sky would be just another type of cloud formation. Twinkling lights in the sky, even if moving, would be just more celestial lights, like the stars, moon, and planets, part of the mysteries of the universe. As long as nothing approached closely enough to be identified as a flying *craft*, distant lights or trails wouldn't give away the illusion.
Nobody saw a single hiker, a troup of Boy Scouts, people on dirt bikes, etc.?
I guess you missed the part about the park being walled off, and run by a guy hired by Walker to keep people away.
Gosh, that was a bitchy review!
Now, before I begin my post, please avert your eyes, those of you who have yet to see the movie, are playing in the match this afternoon and are moving your clothes down onto the lower peg immediately after lunch, before you write your letter home, if you're not getting your hair cut, unless you've got a younger brother who is going out this weekend as the guest of another boy, in which case, you plan to collect his note before lunch and put it in your letter after you've had your hair cut, and will make sure he moves your clothes down onto the lower peg for you. All others may continue reading. Now…
Further, why did the "preserve" have the supplies needed in such quantity if they were meant only for "first aid"?
My take is that the preserve had the supplies needed in such quantity because they knew about the village. When Ivy is talking to the park ranger, he informs her that there is a guard station posted every few miles and each station is readily stocked with the supplies she needs. The stations were stocked with those intentionally. The government (or members of the government) was (were) in on founding the village. Later, when the park ranger goes to the guard station, his supervisor (M. Night) warns him repeatedly not to get involved in conversations about his job with anyone. The supervisor also mentions the trouble he went though a year earlier when (I think it was) the media discovered that a no-fly zone was established around the preserve. So, as I saw it, at least the supervisor knew about the village.
I like the use of the reflection of Night's face in the glass door of the refrigerator. I could not tell if he was intentionally ignoring the guard pilfer the medical supplies. I also liked the scene wherein the park ranger is sitting in his truck with a blank expression on his face. To me, he was struggling with his choice not to inform anyone about what he learned. Anyway, good movie.
Thius guy makes the same mistake most critics do on this point: Why does the think the creatures in "Signs" were aliens?
Don't base what you'll see on that. Most of the folks here who hated this movie, loved Signs. We were bored to tears by it and I didn't think it was all it was cracked up to be(and we only went to see it after the glowing reviews on this site I believe). We also loved Unbreakable.
Probably the best way to gage it is to see what other movies the folks criticizing it liked and disliked vs. what you did and judge it based on that. The fact that those who rave about Signs hated it, makes me want to see it since I like Signs the least out of all of his films so far.
BTW, I was scared silly with Blair Witch. I just let myself get into the moment in it and was watching it alone in the dark in my bedroom so I had a blast watching it. Others hated it. Everyone has different tastes.
Ok, so you both called me out for "missing the point" of The Village. Usually, I'd let it go and chalk up our difference of opinion, but since Ichneumon has wowed me on more than one occasion before on the science threads, I felt I need to re-examine my post.
1) I lamented that Ivy was blind yet could somehow negotiate the forest. This has nothing to do with the plot, but it still bothered me. Yes, Dr. Frank, she fell into the muddy pit, but if beforehand, after several hours in the woods, her knees and palms were clean. My point was that she absolutely would have fallen before the muddy pit scene and her knees would certainly have been dirty already. Hitchcock would have nailed this trifle. At the least, she has an incredible sense of direction (even though, yes, she'd eventually hit the wall no matter how many missteps, I suppose).
2) Sure, Noah "liked playing monster." But he also liked Ivy. I can't presume the retarded mindset, but I'd think once he detected her sheer terror, he'd have exposed himself in some way... rather than making those gutteral sounds he seemed incapable of while uncloaked.
3) My point about the "high priced actors" can be retracted. My wife pointed out to me that she felt the adults were stilted in their speech on purpose, making the very capable Jeff Bridges come off as 2nd rate. In the exchange b/w Bridges and his daughter regarding her intent to marry Lucious, he was robotic with forced speech patterns, whereas the girl was much more natural. Explanatoin being that he has to force it, having lived in the "real world" previously, whereas his daughter only knew that manner of speech. Still, what's the point in creating such Puritan-speak? One can be devoid of curse words without sounding hokey.
4) I commented that the Preserve's secret would not remain in 2004. Dr. Frank compared it to the 6th sense and challenged me to suspend my disbelief. However, hte 6th sense was a ghost movie and it worked. This was, ostensibly, a drama. Weak argument, yes, but I can justify it if only in my own mind. Ichneumon said that the set-up, ownership, and guard duty would have been sufficient. I guess, since I grew up outside of Philly, I couldn't shake the knowledge that I've combed those very woods and I know how teenagers are. The rumor would be out there, and stupid kids would breach the wall at some point.
5) Ok, so you both justify sending a blind girl (with guides). Even though Hurt could have jogged himself to the very same guardpost, and gotten the very same medicine. Since the guard reading the paper was "in on it," it wouldn't have been a big deal. And yes, I know the two kids got scared and turned back (which gives credence to the "secret") but I wanted to see them punished. Even if there were no monsters, leaving a blind person alone in the woods is shameful. None of us would do that.
*****
Ok, I'm done. I still think the movie could have been much, much better. The idea, the intent, and the styling were all great. The end product, though, didn't do it for me at all. Too hokey... I still think he should have focused in more on societal taboos or religious/cultural symbolism gone awry.
But who says that aliens invading a planet need to be smart or wouldn't need the resources other than water enough to invade?
The criticism reads like a Hit Piece, gee let us take every fact of this director's life and try to criticize him for it. It is the written equivalent of putting him in stocks in front of the town and then throwing fruit at him. Except the author is trying to destroy the director's career and livelihood.
Signs was rivetting with the way it built up the fear.
I think Noah kept the costume on because he was determined to steer Ivy back to the village and stop her from getting the medicine needed to save Lucius.
They arrived by air in flying vehicles.
What do you think they were?
They were demons, sent specifically to test Mel Gibson's character's faith. The water is the clue -- "holy water" burns them.
Unbreakable was OK but four or five times longer than the story warrented.
Signs, I believe, was the absolute worst film I ever saw.
I watched part of the uber-hyped Shyamalan special on the SciFi channel a week or so ago and found it almost sickenly pathetic. Of course, that could just have been SciFi's fault: they pretty much screw everything they touch.
Given his tread, I'm not rushing out to see The Village.
I know what you mean. Blair witch was possibly the scariest movie I have ever seen. It actually gave me chills. I thought sixth Sense was very sad. I loved Signs, but I love Mel Gibson. I probably will see this new movie. As someone else said, Hollywood probably hates him because he wants to stay close to home. Interesting, since G. Lucas, moved his whole operation to Nothern California, out in the country no less. hollyweird treked up there to HIM. Like I said, M. Night is still young. He'll be ok. But he needs to remember, there is only ONE Alfred Hitchcock.
Another vote here for liking The Village. Shyamalan tells interesting and unique stories and he does it with style.
Or marrying his lover's adopted daughter!
I'm not sure you "missed the point", I just think some of your complaints were somewhat petty. :-) I tend to agree that The Village is not his best work. But people seem to be looking for reasons to dislike it.
My point was that she absolutely would have fallen before the muddy pit scene and her knees would certainly have been dirty already.
I don't know how you can presume to know that. We can agree that her being blind gives her an error rate while walking, something of the form "she tends to fall once per X hours on average, or if she's in a hurry, once per Y hours, with Y < X". What I don't understand is how you can declare that "too much time" had passed without her falling, to be believable. Do you know what Y is? Do you know how long she had been walking?
Anyway, the film had established that she was skilled at navigating. (Remember how she got to Lucius's house.) Yes she was blind but she had had years of practice at it.
I can't presume the retarded mindset, but I'd think once he detected her sheer terror, he'd have exposed himself in some way...
But he liked scaring people. He was, well, not right in the head. The skinned animals were due to him, and you presume to know that he wouldn't want to put a fright into Ivy? It seems clear that he did want to put a fright into Ivy, maybe even kill her. I don't know how you can presume to second-guess what this character would do. He had already demonstrated himself capable of murder.
Ichneumon said that the set-up, ownership, and guard duty would have been sufficient. I guess, since I grew up outside of Philly, I couldn't shake the knowledge that I've combed those very woods and I know how teenagers are.
Well, you're probably "too close" to the setting of the movie. If I had grown up near Hollywood Boulevard, and went to see a movie about a fictional shop located at 1234 Hollywood Boulevard, which I absolutely knew didn't exist in real life (because there's a laundromat at that location, or whatever), I'd probably have a more difficult time suspending my disbelief than the average person, too.
5) Ok, so you both justify sending a blind girl (with guides). Even though Hurt could have jogged himself to the very same guardpost, and gotten the very same medicine
I think you are missing something here, actually. You're still analyzing this as if Hurt's character would have chosen the option likely to give the maximum probability of success (and criticizing the story because he didn't). What you're missing is that this, evidently, was not his primary concern. Rightly or wrongly, he thought that his daughter ought to experience taking a risk and exploring the unknown, for love. This was one of the big themes of the story - because it was what the Elders had abandoned in forming the Village. Think back to a certain piece of dialogue, where he told his daughter that she had "earned" the right to go get the medicine. Think about what he could have possibly meant by that.
Again, we agree that he didn't act in 100% rational ways. What I don't understand is why that is supposed to count as a criticism of a story. There are lots of stories in which people don't act rationally. This is certainly one of them :-)
Since the guard reading the paper was "in on it," it wouldn't have been a big deal.
I actually disagree somewhat with the people here saying Shyamalan's character was in on it. Yes, he knew there was some secret he was protecting, but it wasn't clear to me that he knew what it was. Even if he did, the Hurt character wouldn't have necessarily been able to count on that.
And yes, I know the two kids got scared and turned back (which gives credence to the "secret") but I wanted to see them punished. Even if there were no monsters, leaving a blind person alone in the woods is shameful. None of us would do that.
I see. That's an interesting point, I do now wonder what the reaction of the Village was to them when they returned. I would guess they wouldn't be too hard on them. Remember that part and parcel of the monster taboo was that "they won't bother you if you're not scared". Their excuse for leaving Ivy was that she wasn't scared while they were, so she was safe. A lot of people in the Village may have actually bought that. Or at least been understanding and forgiving of their fear anyway. And since Ivy returned in the end, no harm no foul....
I still think the movie could have been much, much better.
Well, me too (maybe not "much much" better, but better). I'm certainly not here to say it was a perfect movie, as it stands it's probably my 4th favorite Shyamalan movie ;-) But I'd still give a thumbs-up, and the real problems with it had nothing to do with these logical nit-picks of the plot.
I still think he should have focused in more on societal taboos or religious/cultural symbolism gone awry.
Well, but that's not what the story was about. You're asking him to have made a different movie. That's ok I guess, just kinda weird. Sort of like saying "I think Animal House should have focused in more on the academic environment of college". ;-) Best,
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