The Woman in the Window

Director: Joe Wright
Starring: Amy Adams, Gary Oldman, Anthony Mackie, Fred Hechinger, Wyatt Russell, Brian Tyree Henry, Julianne Moore, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Tracy Letts
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: R 

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

The most surprising aspect of Joe Wright's long gestating The Woman in the Window is how underwhelming the results are given the staggering amount of talent involved. Of course, this happens, as movies collecting dust in post-production are frequently dumped onto streaming services with little to no fanfare. But in this instance, Netflix actually went to some lengths to promote it, perhaps hoping the cast's pedigree would overcome its creative flaws, which keep piling up as its story becomes more involved and convoluted. It starts with rather transparent aspirations of honoring Hitchcock or De Palma before devolving into an inferior Scream sequel in its second half, complete with a clumsy reveal. And that's a shame since you can kind of see the skeletal framework of a film that may have really worked under different circumstances, as a few stronger performances seem in search of the better material these actors mistakenly thought they signed onto.

Based on a 2018 bestseller by A.J. Finn, that this script was adapted by Tony-winning playwright (and gifted character actor) Tracy Letts leads you to believe something got lost on its journey from his pen to the screen. That it was supposed to be released in late 2019 confirms as much, as viewers will be jumping through hoops to deal with some of the arbitrary contrivances before reaching an ending that lands with a thud. While there are laughs to be had, it mostly takes itself too seriously for that, especially when information comes to light that would have ended the film ten minutes after it started. Knowing this, it's unlikely many would have stuck around for the over-the-top third act that wraps up what's been a strange and wildly inconsistent mystery.

Depressed, agoraphobic child psychologist Anna Fox (Amy Adams) lives alone in her Manhattan brownstone apartment after separating from her husband Edward (Anthony Mackie), who currently has custody of their daughter, Olivia (Mariah Bozeman). Mixing drinks and medications on a daily basis, Anna's psychiatrist Dr. Landy (Letts) becomes concerned with her obsession of watching all the neighbors from a second floor window, while also acknowledging that interest could be a subtle sign of progress in her therapy. But when spouses Alistair (Gary Oldman) and Jane (Julianne Moore) Russell move in across the street with their teen son, Ethan (Fred Hechinger), Anna's takes her spying to another level.

After two separate encounters with a clearly dispondant Ethan and a flighty Jane, Anna begins suspecting the mother and son are trapped in an abusive household. When she believes she sees Jane get stabbed to death by husband Alistair through her zoom lens, his furious denials and attempts to discredit Anna to Detective Little (Brian Tyree Henry) begin. Anna's basement tenant, singer-songwriter David (Wyatt Russell), provides little help in corroborating her story while possibly hiding some secrets of his own. With her mental state deteriorating and everyone gaslighting her into doubting what she saw, Anna works overtime to put together clues that prove this horrific crime was really committed and not merely a construct of her fragile psyche.

While the film is all over the map in terms of plot, the amount of time it spent on the shelf probably helped it in some ways, at least as far as its themes of isolation seeming timelier than they otherwise would. And for about half the film, the script does seem very seriously interested in taking us into the fractured headspace of this woman who obviously experienced a severe trauma we only later discover the details of. 

Losing herself in classic movies and TV, Anna's exiled herself inside this apartment with her cat, and the remainder of her entertainment is provided by spying on this wealthy, dysfunctional family across the street. Other than  sporadic phone conversations with her estranged husband and the weekly psychiatric counseling, she's in her own world, reality hanging by a thread after an adjustment to her meds. 

Adams is really strong in these opening scenes and her interactions with Hechinger, as this desperately off, needy teen, are unnerving and affecting. But it's the entrance of an entertainingly loopy Julianne Moore as "Jane Russell" that sends everything into a tailspin, but not an altogether welcome one, through no fault of Moore's performance, which is probably better than the story deserves. 

After Anna witnesses Jane's murder the entire scenario goes down this rabbit hole where everyone starts questioning her sanity and the mystery unfolds as to whether everything's playing out in her head. The more information that's revealed the sillier it gets, more closely resembling one of those 90's direct-to-video thrillers than the Hitchcockian whodunnit it initially purported itself as being. 

Most of the film's charms are found in these supporting turns, with the possible exceptions of Gary Oldman's relegation to stock villainy and Jennifer Jason Leigh being given the least to do of anyone as the supposed "real" Jane Russell, an eleventh hour wrench thrown into the plot. While the characters are comparable to pieces on a game board, both Hechinger and Wyatt Russell make the most of what they're given, with the latter proving more than capable of handling darker material you'll wish was better after seeing his performance. And despite fairly limited screen time, Moore makes the biggest impact in her extended scenes opposite Adams, teasing the potential for a gripping mystery that just never quite gets off the ground.

This is one of those projects where the harder the script works, the returns only seem to keep diminishing. It's not a chore to sit through and Adams has a great grasp on her character, but whatever subtly the story had at its start literally goes, if you'll forgive the pun, out the window with a fascinating mess of a finale. Featuring a gotcha revelation that's partially confusing and not as surprising as you'd think, it really does channel one of those cheap slasher endings in all the wrong ways. 

Since Adams basically headlines every other film released these days, this feels like a bigger departure for Wright, who's a long way off from Atonement and Hanna, dipping his feet into the waters of a bargain basement thriller he tries his best to elevate. We'll never know the exact circumstances surrounding how The Woman in the Window turned out like it did, making it almost uncomfortable to assign blame. But even those able to have fun with this would have a tough time claiming it reaches its full potential, whatever that was intended to be.       

Oxygen

Director: Alexandre Aja
Starring: Mélanie Laurent, Mathieu Amalric, Malik Zidi
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Given its single location, Oxygen attempts to do a lot, to the point that even if this wasn't a film that took place within such a confined setting, audiences would still be taken aback by its ambition. Crawl director Alexandre Aja's French language thriller operates on overdrive, preemptively addressing any potential criticisms of its seemingly sparse scenario. Considerably better than anticipated, it features a downright amazing performance from Mélanie Laurent, while moving at a far brisker pace than we're used to in this growing sub-genre, keeping us engaged and visually stimulated as its many puzzle pieces slide into place. Even when they don't always fit perfectly together and Aja's reach exceeds the script's grasp, it's an emotional, tension-filled experience that stands more than a step or two above similar efforts. 

What's been true since 2010's Buried and even far before, are how many devices are used to limit the action to its closed confines, keeping the viewer distracted enough not to think about the fact everything's taking place entirely in a coffin, elevator, phone booth, ski lift, ATM, under a boulder or even in an enclosed swimming pool. If these methods become a lifeline for both the writer and their trapped protagonist, the skill at which they're incorporated determine just how much slack discerning audiences are willing to allow. 

Christie LeBlanc's screenplay takes huge gambles by going all out, encasing the main character in a predicament where an overwhelming number of options strangely make it less survivable. First part mystery, second part survival tale, it also reaches outside its O2 depleting tomb, looking toward a world that at least feels partially inspired by the likes of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Interstellar, and most surprisingly, Contagion.

Sometime in the future, Dr. Elizabeth Hansen (Laurent) awakens in a cryogenic chamber with no recollection of who she is or how she became trapped inside. An advanced computer assistance program named M.I.L.O. (voiced by Mathieu Amalric) guides her, but initially provides little help other than informing her she's not cleared to obtain the necessary authorization code in order to get out. With her oxygen level rapidly decreasing and just over an hour left until depletion, she attempts to jog her memory while using M.I.L.O. as a resource for clues about her past and who could have done this. Experiencing hallucinations while desperately trying to contact anyone on the outside, Liz is haunted by flashbacks that give glimpses into a life she's not sure can be trusted. With oxygen in short supply, the one thing she doesn't have is time, as this claustrophobic cryo unit will quickly become her final resting place if she doesn't find a way out.    

Much of the first half-hour is reserved for setting up this elaborate mystery, which isn't to say the narrative loses any momentum once more information is slowly revealed. It's just the opposite, as Liz uses every piece of information at her disposal to have a shot at escape. Was she abducted? Part of a scientific experiment? Did she do it to herself? All these possibilities are on the table, as cryogenic chambers have apparently come a long way, with this one fully loaded with access to the internet, touch screens and a HAL-like AI providing guidance and medical monitoring. 

The whole thing's a bit more cerebral than you'd expect despite all the tools at Liz's disposal, or even sometimes because of them. Beyond the survival element and milking the oxygen counter for maximum suspense, the scenario has to be mentally navigated, with her frequently asking questions and breaking clues down into their simplest terms. Obtaining the serial number and name of the pod is only a start until the realization kicks in that she still has a long way to go before being able to alert anyone on the "outside," wherever that undisclosed location may be.

Gasping for air and frantically searching for solutions, Laurent (in her best role since Inglourious Basterds) is really challenged here, carrying the entirety of the proceedings as its sole actor while the camera remains fixed on her sweaty, exhausted face for over 90 minutes. Dealing with the devastating emotional and physical blows as they come, the actress has to ride this giant wave, and whatever you think of how it all comes together from a logical standpoint, her performance holds up to the closest scrutiny, never feeling less than completely believable. 

Everything comes down to the reveal and while the eventual explanation requires a certain suspension of disbelief, Oxygen mostly holds together, which given its premise, may be reason enough it stands out as an anomaly in the genre. One timely aspect is especially affecting, conveying a very immediate sense of loneliness and isolation in way that will hit uncomfortably close to home for many at the moment.  If prompted to really pick this plot apart, you easily could, but the script rarely strays from own self-imposed rules, tackling far bigger themes than its small scale implies. Even when it flirts with going overboard, it's hard not to be taken in, curbing anyone's worst expectations that this would join Netflix's growing scrap heap of anonymously interchangeable sci-fi and horror titles.  

The Nest

Director: Sean Durkin
Starring: Jude Law, Carrie Coon, Charlie Shotwell, Oona Roche, Adeel Akhtar, Anne Reid, Michael Culkin
Running Time: 107 min.
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The final words of dialogue spoken in Sean Durkin's psychological drama The Nest comes when a character is told under no uncertain terms to just "stop it." Give up. It's over. You're not fooling anyone. It may not be the denouement viewers were looking for or the explosive culmination of this slow burn of a plot, but it's somehow perfect nonetheless. Not entirely but perhaps partially miscategorized as a thriller, the film's a gripping exercise in subverting expectations, as notable for where Durkin chooses not to go with the material than where he does. For a while, we're just not sure where things are headed since the mood and tone lulls us into thinking supernatural elements could be at play or it's traveling down a road resembling that taken by Jack Torrance and family in The Shining.  But as the story progresses, I found myself increasingly relieved that it doesn't, as the performances, setting and characters are too complex for the script to compromise or merely settle into straightforward horror. 

Its creepiest elements hover ominously in the background, which is exactly where they belong. And none of the them have to do with the story's narrative, which fits squarely into the fractured suburban nightmare subgenre occupied by the likes of The Ice Storm, The Swimmer, Ordinary People or American Beauty. Accompanying it is a sinister mood that suggests something bad will inevitably happen, if said event isn't already well underway. We're not completely sure how or what, and that we seem no closer to that answer by the time it concludes will undoubtedly infuriate audiences expecting a spectacularly violent outbreak of some sort.

The true horror centers around a woman's realization her husband's in a permanent state of self-denial, pushing forward with an act even he's having trouble justifying anymore. And now after his most selfish, poorly motivated decision yet, he's taking the entire family down with him. So entrenched in its materialistic "me first" 1980's milieu, you'd almost be convinced these events couldn't take place in any other decade but that. Of course, it could, but things just couldn't be the same given how intrinsically its themes are tied to this particular period. This is Durkin's first film since his heavily praised debut feature Martha Marcy May Marlene introduced the world to Elizabeth Olsen, and proves worth the nine year wait, complete with a shelf life and accompanying discussion capable of lasting far longer.

It's the mid 80's and English-born commodities trader Rory O' Hara (Jude Law) lives with his American wife Allison (Carrie Coon), biological son Ben (Charlie Shotwell) and stepdaughter Samantha (Oona Roche) in an upper middle-class New York suburb. Allison teaches horseback riding while Rory's contemplating an offer from his former employer, Arthur Davis (Michael Culkin), to rejoin him in England to explore new financial ventures. Having already moved and uprooted the kids four times in the past decade, Allison very reluctantly gives in as the family moves into a dark, cavernous mansion in Surrey. With Rory gifting her a new horse and planning the construction of stables on their giant property, the kids are enroll in expensive private schools while he wines and dines associates at posh restaurants with Allison on his arm. 

Despite Rory flaunting the family's apparent wealth, nothing is what it seems, with him spending far more cash than he's taking in and they're soon miserable in a creepy, dimly lit house that's far from a home. Isolated and depressed, they attempt to make the best of it until it's clear Rory doesn't believe there's a problem at all, doubling down on his failed business proposals and blowing money by the truckload. Reckoning with the reality that the man she married is a greedy social climber putting on an elaborate show, Allison will need to decide how much more she can take before his uncontrollable ego decimates them all. 

The more we learn about Rory, the less there is to like, or even tolerate. Whether it's some combination of the move, location, mansion, circumstances or him just generally doing a worse job than usual at playing the role of a loving husband and father, the cold truth is now being fully revealed to Allison. In many of their heated verbal exchanges, she's able to curb his rampage with just a few carefully cutting words. It's a far cry from the film's opening scenes where Rory's making breakfast for the kids, driving them to school and asking about their day. His explanation for their relocation to England ends up being the first big lie we witness and it only worsens from there, as he soon gives up all pretensions of being a responsible husband or parent. The curtain comes down, revealing an image-obsessed narcissist, or as Allison would call it, "a poor kid pretending to be a rich." . 

Questions regarding identity and the stress of living a lie can't help but call attention to Jude Law's most famous role in The Talented Mr. Ripley, leaving little doubt that it had to be a major catalyst behind his casting. And this may be his best work since, with the actor making Rory charming and friendly enough to initially convey that friends and acquaintances would take him at face value. It's when this thin, superficial facade starts to crack that things really get interesting, like when he literally pushes his wife's rebellious daughter Sam out of the perfect portrait he envisions with Allison and "real" son Ben. It's clear Sam has a far different relationship with Rory, yet not necessarily an adversarial one, which makes his apathy toward her all the more infuriating. 

Roche's supporting turn as Sam provides a different take on your typical angsty teen because it's sprinkled with these self-aware moments of remorse and flickers of sympathy for what her parents are going through. Even when falling into drugs and partying, she displays an unexpected protectiveness toward her little brother, whom Charlie Shotwell portrays as completely terrified and withdrawn, clinging to his mother for dear life. It's tough to blame him, especially when, in a nice piece of foreshadowing, even the horse recognizes that this move was a bad idea. 

If there were any lingering doubts of Durkin's intentions, his casting of scene-stealing genre vet Michael Culkin as Rory's boss further emphasizes the film's sinister undercurrents. Rory's hotshot, hyper-aggressive American deal making heavily clashes with Arthur's more conservative approach, leading to a great Culkin speech that completely chops his former underling down to size. Jolted in such a satisfyingly clever way, Rory's entire game drops multiple notches for the film's remainder, making him easy pickings for Allison.   

As his inferiority complex takes center stage, you'd easily be fooled into thinking this is Rory's story when it's really about Allison unchaining herself and the kids from his hubris. Having transitioned from stage to screen in a big way within the past decade, Emmy-nominated Carrie Coon has what's arguably her biggest showcase yet with a lead role unlike anything she's previously tackled. Playing a woman so unlike her husband you wonder how they ever wed, she values work and pragmatism far more than cultivating any kind of image. Having hustled for everything her whole life, many of the best scenes revolve around her character's outward disgust at being paraded around by Rory as a trophy wife, calling out his excessive spending, neglectful selfishness, and in a great final stand, intentionally humiliating him in front of his clients. 

Allison's entire presentation and demeanor drips in the time period, with Coon incorporating it into every subtle signal and gesture. Right down to her clothes and sensibilities, she's a woman trapped in evening gowns and fur coats, quietly seething with anger that her entire identity is being so blatantly disregarded. But Coon never leaves much doubt as to who's really pulling the strings, with Allison letting Rory get all this out of his system before going in for the knockout blow. After impressing with seriously memorable TV turns in Fargo, The Leftovers and The Sinner, Coon manages to level up here without dulling any of the sharper edges that's defined so much of her character work.

Whatever hints were teased from its poster and promotional materials that Durkin would go all in on the 80's aesthetic are followed through ten-fold, from the washed-out, vintage TV sheen of Mátyás Erdély's cinematography, to the music, title treatment, production design, pacing and performances. Nothing here feels like a mere approximation of the era, making it impossible to doubt these characters are living in that decade while still not calling unnecessary attention to it. And all of this converges in a slow, steady stream of escalating discomfort, creating the eerie mood of a story heavily flirting with horror without ever fully crossing the threshold into it.

You know it's gotten bad for Rory when even his estranged mother thinks her son's a total fraud and he  makes a pathetically unconvincing case to a cab driver why he should win "Dad of the Year" for fulfilling the bare minimum of parental responsibility. He even gets a long, defeated Lancaster-like trek back to the mansion, unaware what he'll find beyond the crumbled remnants of the pain he's caused. It doesn't feel like a victory for Allison even when it should, as her one moment of celebratory freedom looks strangely lonely despite appearing to have broken free, at least in a metaphorical sense.  

The ending is the closest the script comes to faintly acknowledging something more supernaturally sinister is afoot, leaving that door slightly open to the possibility, though not by much. Calling the film unresolved or contending it doesn't lead anywhere ignores that maybe it goes exactly where it needs and no further, reveling in the curiosity that comes from speculating what happens to this family after the final credits roll. Rory's ultimate punishment is the realization that everyone's suffered enough for him to be exposed for the world to see, no longer in possession of the upper hand he only imagined holding all along.  

Nobody

Director: Ilya Naishuller
Starring: Bob Odenkirk, Connie Nielsen, Aleksei Serebryakov, RZA, Christopher Lloyd, Gage Munroe, Paisley Cadorath, Michael Ironside, Billy MacLellan, Colin Salmon
Running Time: 92 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Chuck Norris. Charles Bronson. Arnold Schwarzenegger. Sylvester Stallone. Bob Odenkirk? As odd as you'd think that seems, the crime thriller Nobody is all about this. The concept of not just Odenkirk as an action star, but the idea of a performer stepping so far outside audience's preconceived notions of them that we begin to grow an even greater appreciation of of their many talents. Not that it's newsworthy for actors to frequently dabble in different genres, with viewers now more aware that the crossover between TV and films have created an environment where "typecasting" nears extinction. 

That someone like Bryan Cranston, who played a sitcom dad on Malcolm in the Middle could later immerse himself in a cancer-striken drug kingpin on one of televison's greatest dramas certainly helped change perceptions. Actors act, but there will always be doubters, especially of someone as comedically inclined as Mr. Show vet Odenkirk, who aleady proved naysayers wrong as Saul Goodman on Breaking Bad, before dramatically powering its prequel, Better Call Saul, with a character many falsely assumed was too silly to stand on its own. 

If a precedent of defying odds had already been set with Odenkirk, it's taken to an entirely different level here, as he enters the genre with a pushback that's not entirely dissimilar to what Liam Neeson initially encountered. That Neeson is the closest comparision should give you an idea at the kind of leap he's taking, even if it's unlikely he'll want to carve out a similar action career. But the point is that he could. That's the shocker, even for those with full faith in his ability to pull this off. Granted, it isn't Death Wish, Rambo or even John Wick, but there's very little winking at the audience, with moments of dark, self-referential humor that play directly to his strengths, taking itself dead seriously when necessary. 

Hutch Mansell (Odenkirk) is a seemingly average guy who has two kids with his successful real estate agent wife Becca (Connie Nielsen) and frequently forgets to take out to the trash before going to work at father-in-law Eddie's (Michael Ironside) metal fabrication company. Between a lack of intimacy with Becca, tending to his ex-FBI agent father David (Christopher Lloyd) in a nursing home and teen son Brady (Gage Munroe) showing him no respect, Hutch's life is in a rut, as this boring routine zaps him of all ambition and drive. But when the family are subjected to a home invasion and Hutch lets the intruders get away, his inaction is heavily scrutinized, prompting him to hunt down the criminals himself. 

Hutch finds the perpetrators, but also gets more than he bargained for when a violent encounter with gang members on a public bus make him the target of ruthless Russian mob boss,Yulian Kuznetsov (Aleksei Serebryakov). Now a marked man with his family in grave danger, the shady nature of Hutch's past starts coming to light, revealing the true motivations behind his passive approach during the attempted robbery. Suddenly sucked back into a violent life he left far behind, he'll need to rely on his resourcefulness and maybe recruit some unexpected help in finishing a war that wasn't supposed to start. 

Hutch's trajectory isn't that far removed a pre-Heisenberg car washing, high school chemistry teaching Walter White on Breaking Bad or a Cinnabon managing Gene Takovic from Better Call Saul's flash forwards. By society's standards he's considered a total failure, or by more realistic expectations, a depressed, sad sack who simply blends in. It's clear his family, aside from a doting young daughter, turn their noses up at him, as do co-workers and mere acquaintances who sure are judgy about his actions during a burglarly they didn't even witness. Odenkirk's so good at making us think this bothers Hutch more than it actually does since the character already knows something we don't. This isn't just about an emasculated middle class white guy snapping and going on a rampage ala Falling Down. 

The events and its ensuing fallout get to Hutch, just not in the way we would have suspected. It doesn't necessarily wound his ego because he isn't a Walt, but instead a Gene. This isn't his first rodeo, and the anguish he's been feeling stems mainly from having to suppress these dark, turbulent tendencies behind the facade of a once happy marriage and white picket fence. A new life is what he wanted and still does, but it's starting to bore the hell out of him. The reckoning that begins with this break-in was a long time coming and that's what makes the story a lot more engaging than if some loser suddenly took to the streets vigilante-style. The script also provides great cover for Odenkirk doing things that even under the most fanciful Hollywood circumstances would be too far a bridge for disbelieving audiences to cross. 

This backstory allows them to effortlessly cross that barrier of skepticism and let Odenkirk do the rest, as it can't be overstated just how well he pulls that off. The bus fight sequence is pivotal in not only providing the film its centerpiece, but establishing the rules. This guy's dangerous, but not invincible. What plays out from then on can best be described as an ongoing symphony of violence, as Hutch's fearless, all-out assault against these mobsters gets underway, along with some really inspiring and off-the-wall music choices providing the backdrop. Even the main villain gets a musical introduction so bizarre that it nearly forces itself to work, and succeeds. And if trying to spot a completely unrecognizable Michael Ironside as Hutch's father-in-law isn't enough to get your attention, there's barely enough time to register that the legendary Christopher Lloyd hasn't been given enough to do before he's suddenly handling a great deal more than we thought was possible. 

Proving the power of inventive casting, Nobody couldn't have stood out nearly as much with a more predictable performer in the lead. It's rare that the entire draw of an action project rests with the audience's relationship and familiarity with the star, but Odenkirk's performance is why this all works.  He believably shifts into ass-kicking mode and does it with large doses of brutality, leaving little doubt this is someone who shouldn't be underestimated, complete with an ending and mid-credits scene heavily implying we haven't seen the last of Hutch. Whether or not the role was specifically tailored to the actor's skillset, director Ilya Naishuller and writer (and John Wick creator) Derek Kolstad craft the action and story around Odenkirk's ability to play a seemingly ordinary man thrust into extraordinary circumstances. And he's more than up to the task, elevating a well-made, if functionally generic action vehicle into something that leaves a stronger impression.