Movies

The Invisible Man: horror with Elisabeth Moss which is a film about stalking

The Invisible Man is another excellent example of a low-budget crystalline cinema by Blumhouse. Tense, suspended, asphyxiating in almost its entirety. The legendary 1897 novel by H.G. Wells finds a new form in which to express himself and keep up with the times more than a hundred years after the story and almost ninety from the first, historical film adaptation directed by James Whale in 1933.

THE INVISIBLE MAN: ELISABETH MOSS PROTAGONIST OF ANOTHER SUCCESS PRODUCED BY JASON BLUM

The possibility of seeing a transposition of Johnny Depp as part of the abortive newborn project of the “Dark Universe” dedicated to the classic monsters of Universal Pictures (after the failure of the not so bad The Mummy of 2017) was quickly dismissed. it is Jason Blum’s genius to intercept its potential in the major’s renewed desire to dedicate standalone films to its monsters.

Quickly thrown into oblivion the insulted Fantasy Island, The Invisible Man is in all respects the new production masterpiece at Blumhouse Productions. Faced with a low budget of just $ 7 million, it has grossed 124 globally. However, the surprising figure is to be found in the release window in theaters, where the film remained for less than three weeks (from February 28) before be forced to be distributed on streaming platforms starting March 20 due to the pandemic emergency of Covid19.

THE EXPLANATION OF THE DANGERS OF MAN INVISIBLE TO THE STALKING TIMES

The goodness of the film written and directed by Leigh Whannel (in his second direction after Upgrade) is to reconfigure a classic like The Invisible Man within a social scourge such as stalking, starting from the sadly too widespread reality of violence maid who sees (in the vast majority of cases) the broken woman and victim of surprise. Violence, however, is not always physical and carnal, but often also takes on the even more subtle and mean form of a psychological subjection from which to free oneself is difficult if not impossible, because the rapist makes land scorched with affections and certainties around his person obsession.

The topic is extremely delicate and sliding over it is extremely easy if you don’t take the right measures to the speech. The Invisible Man, however, works and frames with extreme clarity that phobia of feeling constantly as an observed object, hunted in the shadows by a malignant entity that stretches its slimy hand until it touches, before physically, mentally. So we find Cecilia (Elisabeth Moss), who trapped inside a toxic relationship with the millionaire inventor Adrian (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) manages to escape and move away from her home. After a few weeks, she receives the news of her husband’s suicide, but after a slow and painful recovery of personal freedom, things start to fall again when Adrian seems to have inexplicably returned, this time not visible to the human eye.

THE INVISIBLE MAN TURNS THE CLASSIC FILM ADAPTING IT TO THE 2020 CONTEXT

The credit for the success of the film is largely of Whannel who focuses on a perennial line of tension through a regime of conscious gaze but at the same time denied by its physical evidence. The first half of the film does not seem to present even a smudge, built on a skilful display of spaces and home geometries, of those walls which in thousands of realities represent more a prison rather than a security from what is outside. It is in this portion of the film that in The Invisible Man seems to draw heavily from the genre of the home invasion, overturning the canonical stylistic features of a violation of intimacy by the outside world and filtering them through that hateful feeling of insecurity given by instinct of a threat that pushes from within and nestles in the corners.

The discomfort is perceived on the skin, it flows like a shiver in the emptiness of the image investigated by a mpp who moves to highlight spaces that in theory are devoid of a perceivable presence at an optical level within them. The shots isolate Cecilia in the middle of the screen, or even within a single third, pushing it sideways, making it an alien entity for the eye that observes it at the retinal level.

THE 2020 FILM WORKS THANKS TO THE WORK OF THE DIRECTOR AND ELISABETH MOSS

The psychological confinement that separates mental health from its psychotic aberration that breaks out later in the film is built piece by piece. Moss is called to a degenerative psychic interpretation in which she never looks bad, helped in the task also by the good performances of the supporting actors (Aldis Hodge, Storm Reid, Harriet Dyer) who surround her and socially enhance the state of detachment in the which the character of Cecilia pours.

Without revealing anything, there is a change of pace about halfway through The Invisible Man in which the film is tinged with other shades and takes on the contours of a more bloody horror veiled also by the action. However, everything remains consistent and coherent within the nervous scaffolding put into play so far, albeit with a slight yielding that is recorded with regard to the stylistic rigor that Whannel’s direction had managed to achieve optimally during the first hour. Specifically, it is the last quarter of the shot that slips away a bit more, never really out of tune thanks to the careful sowing operation used up to now and adequately cultivated, but probably causing the outcome of a threat capable to partially weaken to keep the spectator’s breath under control for over ninety minutes (the film lasts two hours).

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