Imagine a remake of Chinatown faithful to the original in every respect
but one: The mysterious young girl turns out to be neither daughter nor
sister — just a family friend. That's roughly the degree to which Neil
LaBute, for reasons known only to himself (since this is the umpteenth
picture this year to sneak into theaters without being shown to the press,
hence no interviews), has gutted cult British horror fave The Wicker Man,
simply by eliding one crucial element. Unfortunately, I can't openly
discuss the element in question, because to do so would give away the
movie's Big Secret, and the Big Secret is what made the 1973 version
memorable in the first place. Suffice it to say that what was once at
least in part a character study, its outré plot ultimately predicated on
the somewhat unique personality of its protagonist, has been reduced, in
LaBute's revisionist hands, to a fairly run-of-the-mill atmospheric
creepfest.
It is still reasonably creepy, though. As the stalwart police officer
summoned to a tiny Puget Sound island to investigate the disappearance of
a little girl, Nicolas Cage, apparently still in a daze after having the
WTC concourse fall on his head last month, turns in his second consecutive
low-key performance, allowing only occasional (and hilarious) hints of
peevish frustration to emerge from beneath a carefully cultivated Joe
Friday demeanor. And while LaBute, in his other major change, amps up the
tale's misogynistic subtext — Christopher Lee's unctuous Lord Summerisle
from the 1973 version is now a matriarch played by Ellen Burstyn, and the
film is replete with heavy-handed hive symbolism involving queens and
drones — he also demonstrates a facility with subtly unnerving compositions.
If you're not familiar with the original, you may experience only the most
vague and gnawing sense that something is missing. If you are, you'll be
be waiting in vain for Leelee Sobieski to get naked and hump the wall.
I'll say no more. — Mike D'Angelo