Here

Director: Robert Zemeckis
Starring: Tom Hanks, Robin Wright, Paul Bettany, Kelly Reilly, Michelle Dockery, Gwilym Lee, Ophelia Lovibond, David Fynn, Daniel Betts, Joel Oulette, Dannie McCallum, Nicholas Pinnock, Nikki Amuka-Bird
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

It's safe to say that among universally beloved filmmakers, Robert Zemeckis' recent career trajectory might sting the most, with 2012's Flight frequently cited as the last real success. Because of this, he joins a long list of great directors who discovered their fiercest competition is themselves, or more accurately, their most remembered work. And while holding nothing against Forrest Gump or the idea of its stars reuniting, we all know Back to the Future will always be the first title everyone associates with Zemeckis. So it's ironic that even when again engulfing himself in cinematic technology, his latest, Here, marks a return to those roots by revolving around a similar theme. 

Based on Richard McGuire's 2014 graphic novel of the same name, the non-linear film takes place in a single location, simultaneously tracking its various inhabitants over different eras. And if it's disheartening to see something this experimentally ambitious get unfairly clobbered by critics and audiences, there's at least an explanation. It's that Zemeckis' current track record and a trailer filled with jarring, out-of-context shots of a de-aged Tom Hanks and Robin Wright caused many to declare it dead on arrival before viewing a single scene.

In a perfect world, Zemeckis could have utilized practical effects and makeup to film this directly following Gump, only substituting McGuire's original 1989 comic as its source. But after watching it, the best news is that the result wouldn't necessarily be better, with this standing as the first of his modern films where the effects mostly inform its story, quelling fears of another Polar Express or Beowulf. Employing a fixed camera angle, we're granted unlimited entry into the victories and disappointments of life, spanning from when dinosaurs roamed the Earth to present day. Characters are born, they die and the cycle repeats, but what happens in between is where Zemeckis and co-writer Eric Roth create flashes of magic. 

Taking place entirely within the confines of a New England home that was formerly a part of Benjamin Franklin's son's estate, John Harter (Gwilym Lee) and his wife Pauline (Michelle Dockery) move in shortly after its construction at the turn of the 20th century. They'll have a daughter, but his obsession with piloting planes causes a strain on their marriage that may prove insurmountable. Future inhabitants of the house include eccentric La-Z-Boy recliner inventer Leo Beekman (David Fynn) and his pin-up model wife Stella (Ophelia Lovibond) and married couple Al (Paul Bettany) and Rose Young (Kelly Reilly), who purchase the property following World War II. 

The Youngs raise their three children in the suburban home until 18-year-old son Richard's (Hanks) girlfriend Margaret (Wright) becomes pregnant with daughter Vanessa. As both generations attempt to co-exist under the same roof, Richard makes personal sacrifices to support his family while Margaret grows antsier for them to move out and start a life of their own. Various triumphs and tragedies occur, along with smaller moments that grow in importance for both as they drift apart and age, forever linked by their shared experiences and memories.

While none of the events take place in what we'd strictly consider chronological order, Zemeckis alternates between periods and characters for the first 45 minutes or so before spending the bulk of his time on Richard and Margaret. He also employs these boxes or comic book-like panels on screen to signal shifts between time periods within this living room and dissolve into another scene. It's initially jarring, but after a while you just settle in, grasping its larger purpose as the separate segments play out. 

For all the de-aging complaints, this attempt is more cleanly executed than in 2019's The Irishman, the latest Indiana Jones and even some of Disney's latest Star Wars offerings. And that's coming from someone who's no fan of the approach and thinks we're still years away from being able to rely on it to such an extreme. But having actors of this high a caliber tackling an ingenious conceit softens that blow considerably, relegating the only lackluster digitization to opening CGI shots of nature, dinosaurs and deer. 

Luckily, we get into the house quickly, and despite the fixed camera angle throughout, it never feels as if we're merely watching a filmed stage play. Characters come in and out of the frame while Zemeckis crafts some clever transitions that bridge the gap between eras, like an inspired cut from colonial times to a current day Mayflower moving truck. And while Ashley Lamont's production design for the living space has to span decades, it's filled with rich, precise period detail that joins Alan Silvestri elegiac score in supplementing a script that hops back and forth between years, often within minutes. 

There comes a point almost midway through where any justifiable skepticism disappears, resulting in not only the film's strongest stretch, but the kind of storytelling we hoped Zemeckis still had in him. And all of that begins and ends with the Youngs, as we see Hanks' Richard abandon his early painting passion for a more monetarily stable sales job to support his family. This while Margaret also puts her law aspirations on hold, desperately wanting for them to move out despite all his financial excuses not to.

Hanks and Wright are again extraordinary together as a couple frustrated by an inability to reach their respective potentials due to a combination of fear, gender expectations and monetary realities. Unfairly labeled by detractors as a schmaltzy, life affirming fable, the film's more accurately viewed as the slow decay of the American dream with two generations battling to deal with the hands they're dealt. And hanging over it all is the familiar specter of illness and death, like in one scary scene where a friend face plants on the floor following a fatal heart attack. 

As Richard, Hanks creating a complicated portrait of an everyman whose fear of moving past childhood keeps them in this house, even remarking at one point that he actually thought his constant worrying would stop bad things from happening. And though Wright imbues Margaret with a glowing, youthful optimism, that too will gradually fade under the weight of insecurity and societal pressures, leaving her to find the joy in tinier, seemingly throwaway moments that will grow monumental in retrospect.

Paul Bettany gives the film's best performance as Al Young, a flawed, cynical war veteran with a rock hard exterior that seems impossible to crack, making it easy to see how his stubborn traits influence and even traumatize son Richard when he starts a family of his own. Very much a product of his era, Al drowns his pain with booze and smoking while keeping a firm, overprotective grip on Kelly Reilly's Rose who, like Margaret, put her own goals on the backburner.

As Rose and Al advances in age to the point that his son and daughter-in-law become their caretakers, Bettany's turn grows even more interesting, displaying a vulnerability that provides valuable insight and justification into his more prickly behavior. And of everyone, Zemeckis really hits it out of the park with this character's visual presentation, believably aging him on screen from a young man in his twenties to an ailing senior citizen.

Despite feeling epic in scope, the film clocks in at just over an hour and a half, carried by Jesse Goldsmith's seamless editing and the fact Zemeckis moves so fast, with years and decades passing in the blink of an eye to replicate the experiences of these characters. As time flies, we're transported to the near-present where the home's latest occupants Helen (Nikki Amuka-Bird) and Devon Harris (Nicholas Pinnock) confront the issue of police violence and deal with the COVID pandemic. Inevitably, side stories like that, the The Franklin vignettes and a subplot involving Indigenous Native Americans receive less attention due to the unusual structure. But while the overall narrative may lack the unity of The Tree of Life, it's still hard to complain when so many of its scenes still manage to  powerfully register.

If nothing else, Here is a brutally honest, unapologetically melodramatic look at the passage of time that uses its unique, experimental single location narrative to magnify the minutia of human experience. It's not for everyone, but even those who consider it a failure would be forced to admit Zemeckis takes a huge risk in giving audiences this much to unpack. With a format that practically invites repeated viewings and reevaluation, it'll be fascinating to gauge how it ages once the vitriol dies down, leaving us to appreciate the reality we at least have a director bold enough to try.                    

Knock at the Cabin

Director: M. Night Shyamalan
Starring: Dave Bautista, Jonathan Groff, Ben Aldridge, Nikki Amuka-Bird, Rupert Grint, Abby Quinn, Kristen Cui
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The opening minutes of Knock at the Cabin are so tense and gripping you worry it can't possibly last, while we anxiously wait for the rug to be pulled out from under us with another M. Night Shyamalan twist. But then a weird thing happens as the story escalates and becomes absorbing enough to wash away any lingering fears of disappointment. In its place comes the realization that the polarizing director could actually nail this, potentially delivering his best work since Unbreakable. And then he does.

In recent years Shyamalan's shown flickering sparks of former glory with stronger efforts like Split, but has remained an unfortunate punchline, most recently bumbling a promising premise with 2021's Old. If there's a flaw with this film it's that we know in advance who directed it, making it difficult not to carry in some of that baggage. But whatever you may think of his output, he's still here plugging away, ignoring the criticisms and attempting to tell fresh stories in a moviegoing landscape where good ideas aren't always celebrated. That has to count for something. 

On description alone, it's easy to see why The Twilight Zone-inspired filmmaker was drawn to Paul Tremblay's 2018 novel "The Cabin at the End of the World," and maybe even less surprising that it's the quickest script he's ever hammered out. Working with a terrific concept that plays on Shyamalan's strengths while suppressing what many believe are his worst impulses, he's back at his most precise and restrained, efficiently letting this play out in the most suspenseful manner possible. It also features an unexpectedly rich performance from a promising actor who really turns it up a notch here, further establishing himself as a talent worth taking very seriously. Reminding us just how skilled he can be at handling this type of material, Shyamalan's again firing on all cylinders for the first time in a while.

While vacationing with her two fathers Eric (Jonathan Groff) and Andrew (Ben Aldridge) at a remote cabin in rural Pennsylvania, 7-year-old Wen (Kristen Cui) is approached by a hulking, soft spoken stranger named Leonard (Dave Bautista). After engaging in some friendly if slightly unsettling banter, he explains to Wen that he needs desperately needs her family's help to save the world. After three other mysterious companions named Sabrina (Nikki Amuka- Bird), Adriane (Abby Quinn) and Redmond (Rupert Grint) show up alongside Leonard, she frantically runs inside to warn her dads. But armed with makeshift weapons, they force their way into the cabin and tie up Eric and Andrew.

The intruders warn of an oncoming apocalypse that can only be stopped if one family member is sacrificed. If they refuse to make a choice, they'll survive, but as the last remaining people on Earth. Believing themselves to be targeted by a gang of delusional psychopaths fueled by fear and hatred, Eric and Andrew understandably push back, refusing to buy any of this. But as news reports of natural disasters and pandemics quickly intensify, Leonard's warnings of impending doom become frighteningly prescient. Assuming any of this is true, their continuous denials could have dire consequences, unleashing a series of plagues that threaten humankind. Whether they were specifically targeted or not, their survival may depend entirely on the decision they make, as the intruders' doomsday clock continues to tick.

Introducing itself as a home invasion thriller, there's a clever conceit around which the film revolves. And yet there's still a strong possibility the crime is exactly what it looks to be on the surface, despite many inexplicable occurrences and coincidences. That no character would reasonably believe any of these warnings is Shyamalan's biggest challenge, as he has to create enough doubt for this abducted family to let their guard down enough to start questioning themselves. With a timely script that openly acknowledges the absurdity of its own premise, the invaders are fully aware that not a word they speak will be taken at face value. At points they're even downright apologetic toward their hostages, as if they've been called to duty by visions and reasons still unfamiliar to them. 

That all this screams "suicide cult" only makes it easier for Eric and Andrew to categorize this as a gay hate crime. And we find out they have good reasons to assume it is, as vital flashbacks of their lives before and on the day they arrive at this cabin help establish who they are and where things could be headed. As for the antagonists, their histories and intentions are understandably left murkier, since fleshing that out would compromise the pervasive sense of existential dread and mystery the plot calls for. Their stated purpose needs to be just as crazy as it seems, with holes big enough to drive a truck through, but containing just enough evidence to invite questions. Shyamalan opens the door for audiences to contemplate how much it takes to believe the impossible, before taking it a little further, digging into how easy it is to deny anything, with or without irrefutable proof. 

Eric is the more even headed husband, but far from ready or willing for this confrontation, as an injury early on has us questioning his judgment. Andrew assumes the worst in people, even as his refusal to budge on the simplest, most logical explanation initially seems justified. Groff and Aldridge bring different tools to the table while both conveying the primary objective of these men to protect their little girl. As the predicament wears on, each undergo a transformation, discovering some painful truths about themselves they wouldn't have otherwise known or admitted. 

Kristen Cui is a real discovery, precociously playing Wen, while remaining smart and observant about the horror unfolding around her. This child is understandably scared to death and shows it, but there isn't a false moment in the performance or a sense she's not completely aware of the stakes. Amuka-Bird, Quinn and Grint are all impressive in depicting the intruders' own fears and uncertainties about this mission, but it's Dave Bautista who sets the tone, showing us what he's capable of in the hands of a major director. 

Carrying the whole film from the moment he comes out of the woods with a quiet, remorseful presence, Bautista portrays Leonard as a calm, outwardly kind man unwilling to deviate from a plan we're not sure he wants to go through with, or even can. The performance doesn't give any hints, leaving equal room for theories that this giant could be a complete sociopath, a prophetic truth teller or gullible mark sucked into a dark web of conspiracy theories. It's a fairly complex role, but he completely owns it, fully immersing himself in this compelling character.  

Shyamalan endings are often fodder for ridicule, but he sticks this one by not trying to be overly clever, opting instead to provide a definitive answer. There are only two real ways this can go, and while variations exist within those possibilities, everything still comes down to the single question of whether these people are telling the truth. Without any unnecessary fakeouts, he lands in the right place, with a chilling finale as focused as anything he's ever done. Knock at the Cabin doesn't cheat, giving audiences craving an intelligent thriller the satisfaction of knowing they got what was promised.                                       

Old

Director: M. Night Shyamalan
Starring: Gael García Bernal, Vicky Krieps, Rufus Sewell, Alex Wolff, Thomasin McKenzie, Abbey Lee, Nikki Amuka-Bird, Ken Leung, Eliza Scanlen, Aaron Pierre, Embeth Davidtz, Emun Elliott, Kailen Jude, Gustaf Hammarsten, Francesca Eastwood, Matthew Shear, Kathleen Chalfant
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

Before Jordan Peele, we had M. Night Shyamalan. And his latest, Old, promises we could very well be stuck with him for a while. While that's not quite as bad as it sounds, it's become impossible to overlook the constant comparisons between these two filmmakers, each of whom have cited The Twilight Zone creator Rod Serling as their primary inspiration. Peele can be grateful for having only directed three pictures, knowing he'll have a long way to go before his career could possibly be stained with the wild inconsistency that's plagued Shyamalan's. After a mini-resurgence of sorts with Split, he backslid again by trying to create his own Shyamalaniverse with the poorly received Glass. Now watching Old, you come to the realization that despite a superior concept to work from, not a whole lot has changed. 

Shyamalan seems interested in delivering impactful social commentary, but unlike Peele, it just doesn't seem to hold his interest for long, as he falls back on thrills, kills, and yes, final twists. The result here is a colossally mixed bag that's sometimes unpleasant to watch, both for its directionless hysterics and meandering execution. The oddest thing is that parts of it really work and you can imagine him delivering a successful screen adaptation of Pierre Oscar Levy's Swiss graphic novel, "Sandcastle," that's a compelling treatise on time and mortality. Elements in this compelling premise fleetingly connect, but aren't fluidly presented, resulting in some over-the-top moments that may bring back painful memories of the unintentionally hilarious lion attack scene in the director's own The Happening. It's interspersed with other wacky, wild sequences that just don't fit, leaving little doubt that Shyamalan was more interested in delivering non-stop action than following through on all the untapped thematic potential this idea contained.  

Currently going through a divorce, Guy (Gael García Bernal) and Prisca (Vicky Krieps) Cappa are taking their children Maddox (Alexa Swinton) and Trent (Nolan River) to a tropical resort for a final family vacation together. Welcomed with open arms by the resort manager (Gustaf Hammarsten) and employees (Francesca Eastwood and Matthew Shear), the kids befriend Idlib (Kailen Jude), the manager's young nephew, before they're all transported via van to a secluded beach. While there they meet three additional parties of vacationers: surgeon Charles (Rufus Sewell), his wife Chrystal (Abbey Lee), their young daughter Kara (Kylie Begley) and Charles' mother, Agnes (Kathleen Chalfant). Spouses Jarin (Ken Leung) and Patricia (Nikki Amuka-Bird), and a rapper known as "Mid-Sized Sedan"(Aaron Pierre). 

After the corpse of Mid-Sized's companion is discovered and strange incidents occur related to the travelers' preexisting medical conditions, it's clear something's very wrong. When another unexpected discovery reveals a phenomena on the beach that's causing everyone to age at alarming rates, they unsuccessfully attempt to escape. With beachgoers now suddenly dropping liking flies, the remaining survivors race against time to find out why, with the hope of preserving however many precious hours remain on their lives.

The film's most problematic portion arrives just as the nightmare scenario on the beach unfolds. In what feels like twenty minutes to a half-hour of pure chaos, various characters are scrambling like chickens with their heads cut off to figure out what's going on. In fact, decapitated chickens might be the only thing absent, as their misfortunes aren't merely limited to rapid aging, but violent knife attacks, suicides, cancerous tumors, psychosis and dead babies. How Shyamalan managed to escape an 'R' rating can only be chalked up to judicious editing that goes out of its way to avoid showing too much. This leaves us somewhere between a 'PG-13' horror thriller and an 'R' rated philosophical drama, though likely alienating both sets of audiences by not fully committing to either. 

None of this is offensively bad so much as repetitive and a little silly, as we're left wondering if there was a less hyperbolic way to introduce the premise. Shyamalan inexplicably plays coy by holding out on the rapid aging reveal, a surprise that would have worked better if the movie wasn't already titled Old and the trailers and commercials didn't give it away. But he persists, filming the two characters from behind, not showing them and using every visual trick he can to string us along before pulling back the curtain to reveal a new pair of older actors taking over the roles. 

In a sea of performers chewing on scenery (see Rufus Sewell's raging maniac), Thomasin McKenzie and Alex Wolff do provide affecting turns as teen versions of siblings Maddox and Trent. The movie is all the better for focusing on them, and when Shyamalan grabs control of the premise, it's easier to appreciate what's done well, such as the make-up and effects work that believably age the characters at five and ten year intervals. There's also a sequence involving the Cappa family that cuts to the core of what this film could have been. Of course, your level of attachment may vary since the sheer number of deaths and different actors playing the same characters serve to keep viewers at an arm's length for much of its running time.

Featuring a twist ending that's somehow eye-rolling and serviceable all at once, there's a sense the material didn't need to be this overcooked and we could have done without a body count high enough to make Michael Myers blush. Stakes diminish when multiple characters are expiring every two minutes, so it's kind of a miracle Shyamalan even pulls off what he does, especially considering how familiar we've become with his gotcha finales. He deviates from the graphic novel by leaving less up to the imagination, but as far as wrapping things up, it probably falls on the higher end of his writing output.

Those clocking the screen time of Shyamalan's trademark cameos will be either delighted or depressed to learn that this appearance is his biggest yet, both in terms of length and function. What's less of a surprise is that Old is all over the place, as the polarizing filmmaker again challenges himself and us by depicting protagonists threatened not only by an unseen, existential menace, but themselves. And much like most of his work, seeing this just to say you did isn't the worst idea in the world. At least by now, it's easier to know exactly what you're in for.