The Invisible Man (2020)
By The Gorilla
This review contains spoilers
I had a huge argument with the Panda this week: I think she is just too cute—small, black ears and fluffy body—but she complains that I don’t take her seriously enough.
“Surely you can’t be serious!”
“I am, and don’t call me Sherley.”
I didn’t want to say anything else I would regret later so I roared, proudly beat my chest, and quietly left the house. The Invisible Man (2020) by Leigh Whannell (anyone knows how to pronounce his last name?) was in town so I went to see it.
Cecilia Kass (Elisabeth Moss) left her handmaid’s job to find herself an abusive boyfriend (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) who keeps her captive in his house. Things start getting too suffocating for her, so one night she finally escapes with the help of her sister (Harriet Dyer). She goes into hiding in her childhood friend’s house, James Lanier (Aldis Hodge), living in fear till the day she receives news that her boo killed himself. She quickly realizes that he has gone nowhere, but has in fact found a way to become invisible and torment her some more. Talk about a clingy piece of manure.
This is one of those movies that, overall, are very solid and good, but are marred by specific, technical imprecisions. The best example of this is the sound: the music is accurately eerie, but in the tense moments it becomes so loud and blaring that by the end of the film my head ached. And it’s true that gorillas have very sensitive ears to begin with, but I’m ready to bet that it was uncomfortable for the humans in attendance as well.
But the most interesting aspect is doubtlessly the directing: very often, it comes off as schizophrenic—mostly in terms of the editing and Cinematography. There are various moments in the film where the camera pans to an empty space, creating an ominous feeling that someone might be hiding there even if we don’t see them. It is nothing new, and we can safely assume that it was directly influenced by movies like Rebecca (1940), where Director Hitchcock adopted a similar method to instill in the viewer the sense of paranoia that the main character felt. Regardless of the influence though, these kind of stylistic decisions reveal a certain confidence—especially from the director. In this day and age of Cinema where exposition is king, we seldom see someone fully utilize the visual language to craftily manipulate the audience.
It is then disappointing, when there is an over-abundance of sluggish, aerial, establishing shots like in a Will Ferrell comedy. Most of the dialogues are framed the same: Master Shot, followed by Close Up, Shot Reverse Shot. Not to mention the various instances where the characters literally spell out what is going on in the film instead of trusting the audience to follow an (already) very simple story. When at the beginning of the film, Cecilia is waiting on the road for her sister to come and pick her up with the car, we have a Wide Shot of her (so the camera is quite distant), but we still clearly hear her saying: “Come on Emily, you were supposed to be here already.” Or something along those lines.
Who is that line even for? Not for Emily, that’s for sure, or for you, Cecilia. And it isn’t for me either, because I don’t even like you.
That’s just lazy directing right there.
But we can make a case that either the producer or the editor might have forced Whannell’s hand, as they are known to do when trying to make the movie as marketable as possible. We can also say that all the good stuff is because of Whannell.
We can, but I won’t.
Despite the editing and of the Photography, there are shortcomings in the film that can only be blamed on the director: namely, the poor mise en scène, and the absolute lack of chemistry between the characters—especially between Cecilia’s childhood friend, James, and his own daughter, Sydney Lanier (Storm Reid).
Not to mention some gross plot-holes, which are only due to the screenwriter. And guess what, he is the director too.
But with my sensible, gorilla ears I can hear you say: “What plot-holes?”
Well, there is the huge one at the end concerning the brothers—which I’m not going to spoil. There are also all the other minor ones that could have been avoided. And those ones I am going to spoil.
For example: if the invisible suit was tailor-made for the creep, how is it that pretty much anyone can use it? Or again, when the invisible piece of crap slaps Sydney, why does she immediately freak out and blame Cecilia for it? Cecilia was clearly out of reach and was in Sydney’s vision the whole time, wouldn’t it make more sense to assume that something just fell on your head? More than that though, when Cecilia gets interned in the asylum, it is made clear that the invisible feces is constantly following her around, always staying in the same room with her. So, it means that first of all, if we could see him for a second, every time one of the nurses comes into the narrow room where Cecilia is resting, we would see him squeezing against the wall in an attempt not to be hit by the nurse. Hilarious. Second of all, it means that this guy just sleeps on the floor in his invisible suit, doesn’t go to the bathroom, doesn’t eat, and just waits for Cecilia to wake up.
This movie makes no sense.
But there are a few very strong aspects too. Elisabeth Moss does a great job as the neurotic Cecilia, and the movie does portray the victim of an abusive relationship with great respect and gravitas. The toxic relationship is not used as just a plot device for the growth of the character, but it is an intrinsic aspect of the story and serves as a poignant reminder of what an awful, disturbed person can do to their partners. On more light terms, it shows how to properly reinvent a classic horror film: not by pandering to a feeling of nostalgia and trying to make it an action comedy with Tom Cruise, but by doing an actual horror film.
That is what the movie was supposed to be from the beginning. Not everything needs to be a Disney film. If it is supposed to be a horror film, just do a damn horror film.
In the end, Leigh Whannell shows great potential as a director, but he is clearly a better screenwriter. Still, the movie is probably one of the best American horrors of the last several years. For sure of the new decade.
The movie is the Invisible Man for the late 2010s early 2020s, and if you are tired of lazy, agendas in films, well too bad for you. Were you expecting a new take on the cursed and complex Dr. Jack Griffin, who went insane after the experiment that made him invisible and now craves absolute power? You gotta keep on waiting. This invisible man is nothing more than a controlling boyfriend who becomes invisible to stalk his girlfriend undisturbed.
He is not even the protagonist of the story anymore: he’s just some creepy guy.
Nevertheless, apart from the premise, the film doesn’t have any hackneyed “men-are-bad-because” kind of dialogue à la Birds of Prey (2020), and it is very entertaining and refreshingly original (more or less). All in all, pretty good.
Final assessment: a flawed but compelling and original reinvention of a classic horror film.
When I came back home, the Panda was already fast asleep. I snuck into bed and just snuggled closer. She awoke and, half-asleep, took my hand and put it on her fluffy belly. That night we had a very Gorilla and Panda sleep.
The Gorilla watches movies, The Gorilla thinks, The Gorilla does reviews. He is very opinionated, which sometimes drives his girlfriend, The Panda, crazy. He also likes alcoholic bananas, back scratches, and long naps in the sun.
