Movie review: Disturbia

by John P. Meyer

Kink, creeps and crime-solving - with binoculars.

D.J. Caruso is shaping up to be a talented director. His resume includes lots of tube work (Smallville, The Shield) and a couple of satisfying offbeat feature films (The Salton Sea, Two for the Money).

Disturbia, his latest film, begins with one of the most gut-wrenching car wrecks ever sequenced, which - when stacked up against the more exotic dangers chronicled in the primary narrative - serves to remind us that often the most mundane of dangers end up being the most horrific. (And, incidentally, the most likely to actually occur.)

Pity poor Kale (Shia LaBeouf). His Dad's dead, his high school coursework is suffering, and his Spanish teacher, Senor Gutierrez (Rene Rivera), has just goaded him into throwing a short chopping uppercut to the jaw that levels the failure-threatening bastard. Oh, and to top it all off, he lives in California.

Fortunately, the slugging incident occurs on the last day of classes before summer vacation, so when the judge in his assault case sentences Kale to a three-month house arrest, the convenient timing means that he won't be missing out on any classes. It also works out so that the daughter segment of his new neighbor family - a sexy little blond number named Ashley (Sarah Roemer), also of high school age - has a theatrical excuse to lounge around in her shorts and tiny bikini swimsuit all day so our proximity-braceleted protagonist can ogle her through binoculars to his heart's content.

So, let me think: we've got a dude holed up in his room for days on end with nothing to do (particularly after his Mom cuts off his Xbox privileges) but observe the daily routines - public and semi-private - of his neighbors. Deja vu, anyone? Ringing any Hitchcockian bells? Sure, it's Rear Window all over again, repackaged with attractive, wicked-cool teens taking the lead roles in place of the attractive, wicked-cool adult sophisticates (aka James Stewart and Grace Kelly) featured in the original film. In fact, it plays more like Rear+Side+Front Windows, because instead of a sky-high array of urban apartments we're dealing with a suburban landscape comprised of houses separated by yards, driveways and alleys. But thematically, the setup's the same.

As a generation of film critics have insightfully pointed out, Rear Window deals with the subject of voyeurism. ["Voyeurism," for the absolutely clueless, is that thing people do when they're spying on other people who don't know they're being spied upon. When this behavior becomes so chronic as to appear obsessional, an individual engaging in the practice is said to be a "voyeur." Or, in more common parlance, a "freaking pervert."] In similar fashion to the apartment-bound James Stewart character in Rear Window, the peculiar circumstances of Kale's situation serve to enable his latent voyeurism; after all, what else is there to keep him occupied? (Well, O.K., there's internet porn, but that would make for a pretty dull film plot...)

The nod to cinematic greatness becomes more pronounced when one of the neighbors under observation - a sleazy-slick expatriate Texan (c'mon, Hollywood, give us a friggin' break!) named Turner (David Morse) - begins exhibiting those tell-tale signs of serial axe-murderdom we've come to know and love so well: you know, the hauling around of plastic-wrapped bundles that appear to contain bloody remains; classic '65 Mustangs with dented front fenders that match police descriptions of vehicles leaving the scene; cow skulls hanging from garage walls; thinning gray hair; etc.

Kale is joined in his "I like to watch" pursuits initially by school chum Ronnie (Aaron Yoo), and shortly thereafter by nubile neighbor Ashley after her Holmes-worthy powers of deduction lead her to suspect that she's being cataloged bit-by-8x-magnified-bit through the dimly-illuminated second-floor window of the fellow next door who is routinely visited by cops bearing handcuffs. But she is not the sort of girl who kisses on the first stakeout; no, it takes her several further instances of voyeuristic objectification to warm to Kale's sly romantic advances. Furthermore, she's rather enjoying the whole let's-prove-the-chap-next-door- is-a-serial-killer party game, and becomes an active participant in a scheme to catch him with his evidentiary pants down.

The climax comes when Kale is forced beyond his radio-monitored boundaries and into the Gein-bedecked lair of Mr. Turner in order to save his captive mom (Carrie-Anne Moss) - who, if she'd just recall her previous incarnation as Trinity, would have no trouble whatsoever dispatching this lame-ass villain with a single spinning back-kick. But that would be too easy. (Just as it would be too easy for someone to pick up a phone and call the police at any of several points in the course of the endgame action... but why quibble over such minutiae?)

The performances aren't lackin' any meat, and the scares come at satisfying intervals and from unexpected directions. If you're looking for a slick little thriller with attractive players and just enough of a brain to keep things comprehensible, then head to the jumboplex and check it out.

Or, you could just kick back at the house and revisit the original.

WATCH FOR: The best dramatic use ever of Minnie Riperton's execrable "Lovin' You."

TELL-TALE HEART: "No, really, I get it. I went to school. There were plenty of teachers I wanted to... just kill." - Turner to Kale

KALE'S KIND OF GIRL: "This girl died of blunt trauma - mostly blows to the head and face. Let's order pizza!" - Ashey to Kale and Ronnie, while reviewing an internet account of an unsolved crime.

FROM THE MOUTHS OF SERIAL KILLERS: "The world is in a heightened state of paranoia." - Turner to Kale, regarding his suspicious mind.

• Staff
• Verified User
• Anonymous