With the release of Signs, many people
referred to M. Night Shyamalan as “the new Spielberg.”
The comparison seemed fair—both made science fiction
films—embracing imaginatively realistic scenarios.
Shyamalan’s latest work, The Village, has been
receiving mixed reviews, but it is a much more mature
film than any of the other titles on his resume. I
originally hailed Signs, but its power wore off
with multiple viewings. I am still mesmerized by it, but
not as enchanted as I once was. The filmmaker’s new
movie still relies on a shocking end-twist, but it is
much more subdued and metaphorical, as it comes to reach
it. In fact, I see Shyamalan turning into a Hitchcock,
not a Spielberg. The Village reaffirms his sheer
mastery behind the camera. This is an opus of a film
that originally unravels to match the audience’s
suspicions, but only for the purpose diverting them
before unleashing a major, unpredictable ending twist.
The story is almost impossible
to explain without spoiling plot developments, so I
suppose all I can support my opinions with, in this
review, is the material shown in the film’s trailers.
It’s around the time of the turn of the century, in
1897, in Covington, Pennsylvania. There are about
seventy-five residents in the town and about a tenth of
which are on its governing board. There is little crime
in this village, aside from the occasional boy scaring
another; bigger threats consume citizen’s minds.
Surrounding Covington are woods, full of something fond
of the color red—monsters—perhaps. When the community
was founded, an agreement with these beings was formed;
if the people were to not cross their borders, they
would not meander into civilization. But, when Lucius
Hunt (Joaquin Pheonix) intentionally walks past the
stakes marking the village’s land, the surrounding
creatures, who are supposedly lethal, strike back. At
night, they invade the village. No one is injured, but
many are left scared. Shortly thereafter, Lucius is
stabbed by the mentally ill Noah Percy (Adrien Brody),
and his blind fiancé, Ivy Walker (Bryce Dallas Howard),
must seek medicine for him in the closest town. After
discovering something shocking, which I will not divulge
(though it’s fairly guessable, when watching), she
garners the courage to cross through the woods, with the
permission of her father and town-leader, Edward
(William Hurt). Come time for the beautiful ending,
every loose end in The Village is tied, and
perfectly so, at that.
The Village is,
ultimately, Bryce Dallas Howard’s motion picture. Ivy’s
blindness is used to allow the plot to remain credible,
in a sense, but it also symbolizes vulnerability. In
this, another thought is further developed. Is this
vulnerability a personal issue for her, or is it a
result of her location? Probably a mixture of both, but
it’s obvious that the latter bears a stronger weight on
her shoulders. And, with each plot device, we learn that
this, for her, along with the other villagers, is
unnecessary, to say the least. Shyamalan’s execution
shows that fear is usually generated by the imagination,
whether it be in the head of the subject, or another
person. It’s ironic that that statement kind of applies
to The Village, as a whole. It’s a deceptive
experience, but enlighteningly so. In fact, after the
first thirty minutes, the concept of being afraid
becomes more of a human characteristic than a
supernatural one. The tone of the movie then shifts
greatly, examining social dynamics more than terror.
In addition to Ivy’s role, the
rest of the citizens of the town are crucial to the way
the film plays out. Their parts are subtler and less
important than hers, but also influence the shock value
of the third act. I question Lucius’ wounds being used
as the backbone of events in the last two-thirds of the
film, but Shyamalan pulls it off. This is not to say
that Joaquin Phoenix’s performance isn’t anything short
of terrific, and important to his character’s influence
in the movie. He plays his role in a sympathetic way,
which translates into the audience wanting to avenge
what turns out to be his betrayal, led by both Noah and
the founding board Covington. William Hurt’s depiction
of disgusting confusion and confliction, internally, is
exhibited amazingly by the accomplished actor, mainly
through the simplest movements, twitches, and jerks of
his body parts. Sigouney Weaver and Brendon Gleeson, two
of my favorite veterans in the industry, are also
fabulous. They embody their characters amazingly, given
the fact that I assumed that they would seem out of
place, here.
I love the sense of intimacy
that Shyamalan lets the villagers have. The observation
of his camera is essential to one’s understanding of
The Village. Consider a scene in which Ivy and
Lucius embrace and kiss on a porch. Just as their lips
touch each others, the focus of the audience is not
pulled into their relationship, but to the rocking chair
sitting next to the couple. And it’s not our right to
know everything about them; they deserve their privacy.
This may seem frustrating, because, when the film
concludes, we find that secrecy is the only real reason
Covington is so isolated. But, is it really the
audience’s job to figure things out for the characters?
Most definitely not; Shyamalan realizes that the
villagers must fight their own battles, whether they are
internal or external. As much as we want to put an end
to the warfare (a term that I, of course, use as a
hyperbole), it still exists as The Village fades
to black and the end titles play. A resolution to all
their problems may come some day, and that left me
hopeful, which is satisfying, just the same.
The pacing is dream-like,
capturing the time period the film explores. (If you
have seen it, you will understand the irony in that
statement). As sleepy as the dialogue may seem, there’s
true thought behind it, as well as its delivery. Here,
viewers really have to think about daily life in 1987,
in relationship to modern day progressions. Back then,
people simplified their lives, believed in more myths,
and dare I say it so obviously, talked slower. You’ll be
contemplating this, whether you like it or not, granted
you choose to give The Village a shot.
This may be a mere assumption,
but, without saying too much, I have a feeling that
Shyalaman has very supportive feelings towards
corporations. I can even explain myself, in this area,
only using the premise, as stated in the ad-campaign.
Covington is clearly not near any major cities, and
suffers from inopportunity, as well as its problematic
surrounding creatures. Would they be facing these
troubles if they decided to be supportive of big
business? If safety is the issue, then why do many
people in the village want to leave it? And what about
the bordering creatures? Aren’t they a threat to the
psyche? Those who know several truths about the town’s
founders’ decision to settle there, which are exposed
throughout The Village, will be able to
understand my suspicions, more sensibly, as they will
take on another form, in such a context.
The idea of evil in The
Village is an intriguing one. Are there really any
“bad” characters? We can certainly understand everyone’s
reason for doing what they have in the film; intentions
are the only defining line between sympathy and apathy.
I suppose there doesn’t really have to be any characters
who we cannot, for lack of a better phrase, find a
common ground with, in a picture as thoughtful as this
one. There is undeniably an antagonist, plot-wise, and
we may despise them. But, none of their actions seem
nonsensical, in the scheme of things. I’ve chosen to
take The Village simply as a study of society and
how knowledge leads to both its progression and decline.
More over, isn’t the general creativity of Shyamalan so
inspiring that there is no need for all of his picture’s
elements to be totally decisive. It does not go without
flaw, but doesn’t this very fact further promote the
discussion of the themes of perfection (and even
communism) in The Village? In its own bizarre
way, this is a masterpiece. And, as long as the product
isn’t offensive, a way is a way, and this one works for
me.
-Danny, Bucket Reviews (8.2.2004)