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 ...
Well, you may as well ask why they didn't bring televisions or canned food. They made this choice to live this way. The choice itself is highly morally questionable. These were highly disturbed, depressed people, keep in mind. But the not-bringing-medical-supplies part of it is at least consistent with the overall decision.
Further, why did the "preserve" have the supplies needed in such quantity if they were meant only for "first aid"?
Hadn't thought about that, a fair point. I think it was so that there would be a refrigerator with a glass door in which we would see Night's face in the reflection ;-)
Why did the elders hide the red outfits, yet not hide a modern change of clothes for reentry into "town" for this very situation?
They never wanted to go back to "the towns", that was the whole point. They even took an "oath" about it.
But what is with the red and yellow color crap? Can't see any reason.
You make red "the bad color" because red is the color of blood. The usefulness of such a taboo, especially to people who had been traumatized by violence and were seeking to escape it, would be obvious.
Can't quite say why they would make yellow "the safe color". I'd look at it from a few different angles. (1) If some brave teenager does venture into the woods, hopefully he'll at least put on a yellow cloak and you'll spot him (and catch him, and bring him back) easier. (2) It's the color of fire - so it goes hand in hand with the ring of torches they set up. (3) Or you could just say, Well, some color has to be "the safe color", why not yellow? ;-)
You can never overlook reason #4 of course which is (4) M. Night Shyamalan simply uses colors this way in his movies.
Why on earth didn't one of the elders go to town?
Because of the oath. Because they had formed families and raised them in The Village and feared their lifelong lie being exposed. Because they thought doing so would destroy their way of life.
Wouldn't modern medicines be easier to conceal and explain than the elaborate charade that was being propped up to maintain isolation?
Possibly. Seems like they could have had syringes and told the children they were "magic sticks", kept stocks of "magic pills", etc. What the heck are the young people going to say, "Wait a second! This stuff didn't exist in 1897!" The kids don't know that. Heck they could have chosen to invent a society with inventions and concepts drawn from a wide variety of time periods. They could have stocked and used Palm Pilots with batteries for various things ("magic tablets using magic rocks for food") and at the same time organized their society in a feudalistic way with knights and serfs.
But they didn't. They chose to do it the way they chose. Again, the decision itself to go out and form The Village was a bit loopy to begin with, so all this nit-picking about why-didn't-they-do-such-and-such just seems a little misplaced. Why aren't you asking why they formed the dang Village at all? :-)
Seems to me that the "elders" traded the arbitrary violent deaths of loved ones in the "towns" for arbitrary deaths in the village due to their poor planning and stubbornness under the guise of "principle".
Seems that way to me too. And, I reckon that halfway through the movie it seemed that way to William Hurt's character as well, which is why he allowed his daughter to go to "the towns"....
In The Village I found myself going over the story thinking of all the ways it was one big lame shaggy-dog story that just didn't add up.
Much of your criticisms make sense of course, but they make sense as criticisms of rational people engaged in something rational. I think your mistake is in assuming or thinking that this is what Walker and the other support group members were, or that we were supposed to think that's what they are. Think about the ending of the film again; in sense, they were the villains. Best,
Not in the film I saw.
Heck, after several hours in the forest, her cloak was only muddy at the feet, not the knees, so yes, dear viewer, a BLIND girl didn't fall down ONCE on her sightless bushwhacking trek.
Except for the time she, you know, fell into a muddy pit.
how did he a) run thru the Village to the woods undetected with the suit, b) find Ivy, c) Not have the presence of mind to take off the stupid mask, etc.
He probably left The Village in dark of night (remember Ivy had already camped one night in the forest). I don't know why you think he would have wanted to take off the mask. He liked playing the monster. Was that not clear?
3) Why pay high priced actors (Brody, Hurt, Weaver) for this movie? No skills were required.
This comment is pointless and has nothing to do with anything.
4) In 2004, no way this place stays secret.
It's a movie. It's not real. You understand that, right? All we know is that Walker's father was "rich" and that these funds were at times used to pay off people when necessary to keep the place secret. I suppose it's implausible, but certainly no more so than seeing dead people.
5) If men created this secret world, and pardon my crassness, why would they bundle the women up in frontier clothes? Bikinis all around (on the younger women.)
Heh heh. But of course, that's your take on it. Clearly the guys in this Village were, uh, going for something different than Florida Spring Break when they created this place. And besides, "men" did not create this secret world in the first place. There were men and women in on the original founding of the Village. You didn't know that?
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?
It's a risk, yeah. He sent her because the only other option was watching her suffer as her true love dies. The fact that she was blind was actually a bonus because it increased the likelihood that she would not be able to report anything from "the towns" which would arouse suspicion from the other Villagers. But yeah, the whole thing was a risk.
I'm puzzled why so many people seem to think 'one of the characters did something risky and not logically ironclad or failsafe!' is actually a criticism of a movie. Have you seen any other movies?
7) What happened to the two wimps who left her alone in the woods?
They were scared and so went back to the Village.
9) Where did all the kids in the Village come from? Way too many for the small number of adults there.
I doubt the Elders brought a supply of birth control pills with them.
10) On adn on and on and on.
Yup, keep on picking those nits.
I thought it was going to be a good social comment on American puritanism, or even religious symbolism gone awry.
Why did you think that?
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, and the lesson would be that hey, "red ain't so bad, see, we live fine with red in our lives."
Hmm. Sounds pretty lame, I liked Shyamalan's movie better. Essentially the movie you're describing has already been made, it was called Pleasantville.
This movie gave us nothing intelligent or even much to think about
Well I disagree, but of course different people think about different things and to different extents.
(I don't know why that text got copied/pasted to the tagline box.)
A friend just saw The Village. She said it was great.
This IS Slate, the mistake on the Internet that needs the heart paddles to keep it alive LOL
I wasn't planning on seeing it, but I now I think I will. If Ebert hates it, it's good.
Wow....I also see a mean critic.
My definition of a critic is an jealous, lazy, narrow-minded, arrogant, schlub....who for lack of any actual talent.....makes his living by critizing those with talent and drive.
I have liked M. Night's movies. I haven't seen this latest but plan to see it soon. Besides it was filmed in Chadds Ford which is a five minute drive from my home.
Well, of course not. They made a movie about it.
Sometimes you've just got to suspend disbelief for 106 minutes and live inside the film.
I saw it yesterday, and while it wasn't what I expected, I wasn't disappointed. I didn't like it as much as I liked "Sixth sense" or "Signs," but I understand the story he was trying to tell.
It is beautifully filmed, and Bryce Dallas Howard is a real find. I've never liked William Hurt, but I am a fan of Joaquim Phoenix, so it all balances out.
And let's not forget the great George Romero, who made all of his "Dead" films in and around Pittsburgh.
I happen to agree that The Village is not his best movie (his previous three are all better IMHO) and that there are some problems with it. But even Shyamalan's worst film is better than 95% of movies that are released. It seems to me that ever since The Sixth Sense certain folks have had the urge to take him down a notch. If he makes a film that's not a $300 million phenomenon that literally rewrites the rules of filmmaking in a way no film has done since Pulp Fiction, Star Wars or Psycho, suddenly it's "crap" and "horrible"? What the hell is that? Save words like that for White Chicks or something. Give me a break.
Even more galling, and in fact somewhat disturbing, is the overt envy of Shyamalan's success and fame on display in articles like this. Why, with the language used here about him being "hermetic", silly cheap shots about him wanting "money" and "success" (like, who doesn't?) and that he doesn't "play ball", you'd almost think Shyamalan was... well, Jewish or something.... ;-)
What a dumb question. How is that any different from Spielberg?
Spoken like a true jealous sissy critic who never made a movie HISSELF!
I saw this movie last night and really liked it. I expected a twist ending and the spookiness but what I didn't expect was to feel a little sadness for the people in the village because the "elders" decided to continue with their deceit. It's like a form of torture keeping these people in constant fear just so that they could preserve the way they lived. Kids were dying when a couple of miles away they could get medical supplies. After all is said and done it's not the "creatures" that make the movie creepy it's the people in the village themselves.
Right on!
You liked the movie without having one these artsy, fartsy critics 'splain it to you!
That just won't do!
I enjoy this kid's movies (oops, "films") too, and my usual reaction to seeing one is to look forward to his next one.
Wonder how much say M. Night has in casting. If he has an Achilles heel, that would appear to be it.
William Hurt and Rosie O'Donnell?
Yecch!
Pennsylvania rules!!
Pennsylvania rules ping
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