My buddy Tanner actually saw this in the theater before the pandemic made going to a movie theater a thing of the past for the present. He sent this to me like 3 weeks ago. I said to him then that I would post it “tomorrow”. Well, I’m a forgetful person, so here we are. Please enjoy this fine review. Note that Leigh Whannel directed this and that dude is fantastic. He played Adam in the original Saw, you know the guy that was stuck in the bathroom with Dr. Gordon. He has gone on to direct or be involved in a ton of quality stuff such as: the Saw franchise, Insidious, Dead Silence, and Cooties.
The Invisible Man
I think the main thing I look for in a film these days is originality. Now, yes; that’s coming from someone who still thoroughly enjoys each new installment of the juggernaut that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe. And, of course, I realize that I’m starting a review about a movie that, by all accounts, could have been just another adaptation, by saying that I love originality. The Invisible Man ends up being so much more than I could have ever expected. Where the original (and it’s many adaptations) is usually used to psychologically profile the titular Man, this movie forgoes any amount of focus on the invisible man, going so far as to not mention his name until around 30 minutes into the movie (except having it superimposed on his computer monitor at the start of the film. Still, it remains unspoken, so I’m going to count it). Instead, this movie focus’ on the victim, played by Elizabeth Moss, and her process of coming to terms with her anxiety, and also dealing with a world and support group that won’t believe her.
[Spoiler Warning Ahead]
When I first walked into the movie, it became obvious that this was in no way connected to the famous
Universal Studios monster. I assumed we had another Babadook situation, where the whole thing is a
metaphor for mental illness, specifically anxiety in this movie, as opposed to depression in Babadook
(and I mean, the metaphor is pretty on point; the method used to turn the man invisible is a suit
covered in little cameras that look like eyes).
This movie goes to great lengths to sell the mental illness storyline. Even from the opening scene, where Moss’ character uses Diazepam, a medication commonly used to treat anxiety, to sedate her abusive husband. After that first scene, a good portion of the movie is spent in a strange limbo, where the director doesn’t want to reveal his hand by exposing if it’s all real or not too early. Of course, he does reveal it all before the first 30 minutes (I realize I mentioned the first 30 minutes before, but honestly, it’s a solid 30 minutes). That’s the genius of the movie; you keep believing that you’ve figured it out, but then it jerks you to the other side and you realize the answer was there all along… and then it hits you again with a right hook out of nowhere. But it never feels contrived or manufactured. The movie flows from scene to scene with terrifying accuracy.
My favorite thing about this movie was the camera work. I’m always a sucker for someone who captures the Shot with an interesting flair. It might not seem like much, but a good portion of the movie is shot using wide, panning, and lingering shots. Obviously, you’re supposed to believe something is there, which there might be. The movie very rarely wastes these moments by populating them with small details to look out for and know if someone is really there or not. I will admit they did this one major time, when Moss’ character leaves the kitchen and she drops a knife. The Invisible man stops it (for some reason) from hitting the ground, and we never see him put it back on the counter, nor does it come back later in the movie. I don’t know who that was for, but it’s probably the most infuriating thing in the movie.
Another thing I really liked about the movie was the characters. All of them felt real and had very solid motivations that really didn’t seem to waver. Sure, the dialogues a little awkward, but that just helps it
feel more real. When two people start talking over each other, or stutter their words, the characters react organically, and that even helps the story in some aspects, at least when you view it as a
commentary on mental illness.
And that’s the last thing I wanted to write about today: the anxiety. It’s not made clear in the beginning
of the movie, if Moss is taking Diazepam for anxiety, or got it solely to drug her abuser, at no point do
any of there characters make sure she’s taking her medication, or gets her some that she doesn’t have.
I’m not an authority on the subject, but the way that most of these people handle Moss’ apparent
descent from general to severe anxiety into complete psychosis is beyond frustrating. But the movie
never claims to be making a statement, and when it turns out that she’s not crazy, the director sort of
gets a pass on this account.
I’d say this is one of the best thrillers I’ve seen in a long time, but because of the few minor things I
mentioned, I don’t think it’s very memorable. 5 out of 10. Would I see it again? Only if someone else was
paying. That sounds bad, but I just don’t really care if anyone else sees it. There isn’t real merit to the
movie beyond craftsmanship.
All the pictures used in this blog are for review purposes. They are the property of:
- Universal Pictures (presents)
- Blumhouse Productions (as BH)
- Goalpost Pictures
- Nervous Tick Productions (in association with)
- Screen Australia
- Government of Australia (as Australian Government)
- The New South Wales Government (as NSW Government)
Please go find a copy and support the creators.