What
the hell is everyone smoking? Reading the poisonous
advance news on M. Night Shyamalan's latest, you'd think
the director was offering up a badly shot home video of himself
sitting on the can reading aloud the phone book from cover
to cover. Amid all the nonsense in the press about M. Night's
ego, M. Night's crazy movie, M. Night's tell-all book, M.
Night's split with Disney, M. Night's impending career meltdown
and whatnot, there's one simple, important fact being conveniently
ignored: Paul Giamatti has just given the greatest performance
of his career — as a lead in a Hollywood studio movie
no less — and no one is noticing.
Lady in the Water is, first and foremost, not
the disaster everyone has predicted. It's a perfectly fine film — an effectively
made, often very funny, mood piece-cum-fairy tale where thriller elements come
into sharp relief every once in a while and then fade back into the background.
The story concerns stuttering building superintendent Cleveland Heep (Giamatti)
who discovers a water nymph (Bryce Dallas Howard) living in the pool of his drab
but colorfully populated apartment complex. It turns out this creature is a mystical
being that has to deliver a message to a writer (played, probably to his everlasting
regret, by Shyamalan himself) and then return home. But preventing her from returning
is a mysterious wolf-like creature that lives in the lawn around the pool. In
order to figure out what to do with his unexpected guest, Cleveland has to learn the specifics of the fairy tale he is living in, find some way to apply
that fairy tale to the mundane reality of his apartment complex, and get
all the neighbors to assume their designated roles in the story.
It's actually a pretty cute little conceit. It's also
a flighty, fragile one — alternately ridiculous, comic, sad, ridiculous,
creepy, and also, well, ridiculous. No living actor should be able to pull off
this story's odd dance between mundane pathos, mythic fantasy, and creeping dread.
Except that Giamatti does — he's a child when he has to be, a sad and lonely
little man when he has to be, and a hero when he has to be. He holds this crazy
stunt of a movie together, bringing to it depths of emotion even Shyamalan probably
didn't anticipate.
To be fair,
Lady in the Water does have its
problems. By casting himself in a pivotal role as the writer, Shyamalan appears
to have distracted attention from the fact that his real surrogate
in this film is Giamatti's character — the poor, flustered workaholic who
has to get everyone to play their parts and somehow make magic happen. It also
doesn't help that Shyamalan is a merely serviceable actor lost in a sea of talent.
Jeffrey Wright deserves special mention as a crossword fiend, as does Bob Balaban
as a hilariously stuffy film critic (another Night-ism blown way out of proportion
by the cognoscenti) whose recitation of classic structural tropes seems to be,
in part, an admission by the writer-director that he
knows there's
a more conventional way to tell this story. And the elaborate fairy tale Cleveland
is unraveling probably has a couple
of beats too many, though its baroque intricacy is part of the joke. But all in all,
Lady in the Water shows Shyamalan
effectively breaking out of the thriller genre — one that, at least for this critic, wasn't all that thrilling in the first place — and
sending things in an altogether more risky, fascinating, and powerful direction.
It helps that he has the greatest actor of his generation along for company. —
Bilge
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