Movie review: The Fourth Kind

E.T.: Meet The Exorcist.

by John P. Meyer

I'm going to issue a SPOILER ALERT right here in the opening paragraph of the writeup, because I have a lot to say about this movie and almost all of it involves a certain amount of stuff you simply don't want to hear if you expect to be as creeped out by the screen story as I was.

And -- no kidding! -- I really was creeped out. So much so that I, like several of the characters in the film, had trouble sleeping. Though, thankfully, I did manage to snooze right through the magic hour of 3:33 a.m. Praise be to all that's holy. (At least, I think I did ...)

So, having been thus forewarned, STOP READING NOW and go see the movie before reading any further. Seriously. I mean it. Get outta here!

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OK, since you're still reading, I'm going to assume you've either been out to see the movie and have circled back to this article, or that you simply find little entertainment value in being profoundly disturbed to begin with, and thus are continuing despite my advisory. In which case, I will henceforth be forced to view you as a pansy ass. (Sorry.)

It must be said that The Fourth Kind is one of the most annoying movies I've seen in years. That's because the filmmakers (director Olatunde Osunsanmi and cinematographer Lorenzo Senatore) seem to think that there's something visceral and organic about having the camera constantly bounce, skew, and rotate around the subjects. Of course, they are absolutely right about this, but still, guys -- could you not just put it on a tripod once in a while, for cripes sake? So we can get our equilibrium back and eat more popcorn?

Furthermore, at some point during the post-production, Osunsanmi and editor Paul Covington became enamored of the device of using a split screen to show us both the "original footage" of events being documented and the "re-enacted" version (using actors) simultaneously, so that we are clear on the fact that: a) this stuff really did happen, and b) it's being recreated for purposes of the movie.

(Yeah, we're getting it already. Nice device. You can move on now. No, really, we get it.)

This multiple view thing truly becomes a distraction during a pivotal hostage scene in the movie, when the screen actually splits into FOUR windows, with different views (vintage "real" and contemporary "recreated") coming from various angles (cop car dash cam, hand held researcher cam, jerky filmmaker cam, etc.). I mean, to heck with the popcorn, I'm liable to have to use this handy container as a barf bag.

And still ... and still ... if you go into this thing not having done the research as to whether the "documentary" footage is real, it ends up having the desired effect. It's disturbing.

As lead actress Milla Jovovich is quick to point out in the first reel (and in the trailer -- see below), "every scene in this movie is supported by archive footage." That's the gimmick, and to Osunsanmi's credit, he sells it with a flourish.

Like a horror tale crafted by H.P. Lovecraft, Osunsanmi (who co-wrote the story with producer Terry Robbins) employs the device of making us buy into the fiction by fabricating equally fictitious supporting documents. Lovecraft did it with books (the Necronomicon; the Pnakotic Manuscripts); Osunsanmi does it with "documentary" footage, supposedly shot by the film's main character, Dr. Abigail Tyler -- and by police car-mounted dash cams in Nome, Alaska, where the events depicted in the film purportedly occurred.

And here's another of my major gripes with the movie: If they were making a film about Nome and attempting to give it some verisimilitude, they shouldn't have set it amongst mountain-ringed, deeply forested terrain. As a cursory web search will reveal, Nome's setting is relatively flat, and its Arctic climate precludes the kind of old growth forest on display in the movie. (Filming was actually done in Bulgaria.)

Furthermore (and here's the reason for my spoiler alert), a web search for Dr. Abigail Tyler will quickly lead one to the conclusion that the real-life character upon whom this supposedly true story is based is, in fact, a fictional construct. Which means that all the documentary footage included in the movie is as fake as Rod Blagojevich's contrition.

Still -- particularly if you don't know it's bogus beforehand -- this is one scary movie.

Early on we are introduced to "the real" Abbey Tyler, as she is interviewed on-camera by the film's director, Olatunde Osunsanmi. To give the proceedings an additional spritz of genuineness, the interview is seen to have been conducted under the auspices of Chapman University. (Not coincidentally, both Osunsanmi and co-writer/producer Robbins received film degrees from that institution in 1999.)

The "real" Abbey (whose role goes uncredited on IMDB) looks like death warmed over: she's ghoulishly pale, cadaverously thin, and -- judging by the dark circles under her eyes -- she hasn't slept in just about ever. But she's quite willing to share with filmmaker Osunsanmi her experiences from those years-ago nightmarish days (and nights) in Nome.

Before his own tragic and mysterious death, Abbey's husband was conducting research into the spate of disappearances going on in and around Nome. Now it appears that Abbey's own researches (she's a consulting psychologist) are taking her into similar uncharted territory. When several of her patients report trouble sleeping -- and then go on to describe identical symptoms (something about an owl who isn't an owl) -- the narrative dark matter begins to seep in.

Dr. Tyler makes a big mistake when she decides to employ hypnosis to discover what's going on with her sleep-deprived patients. In their waking states, none of them can remember anything after the appearance of the -- um -- owl (which chronically appears at 3:33 a.m.). But there might be a very good reason for this. As Lovecraft put it: "The most merciful thing in the world ... is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents." Indeed, Doc Tyler's patient Tommy (Corey Johnson) would find himself agreeing with this pronouncement -- if he hadn't already been thrust into gibbering madness by Tyler's hypnotic therapy.

On hand to witness what becomes of Tommy (and his family) is Tyler's mentor and fellow psychologist, as portrayed by Elias Koteas; and Will Patton as the county sheriff who isn't buying into this whole non-human entity explanation for the expanding catalog of bizarre and terrible events. The sheriff, in fact, suspicions that Abigail Tyler may herself be unhinged, and thus could be personally responsible for much of what's happening.

He turns out to be right on the money when he advises her to stop hypnotizing folks -- which, of course, Tyler (being of an inquisitive nature) does not. This ends up acting to the detriment of the health and well-being of another of her patients (Enzo Cilenti as Scott Stracinsky), and leads eventually to her own slippage into the pit of madness. (Or self-knowledge. Which might end up being the same thing.)

A linguist skilled in ancient Sumerian joins the investigative team to see if he can decipher some weird spoken phrases captured on an audio recording. (He can.) The film then diverges into message-heavy pedantry as two of the main characters argue for and against the existence of E.T.s; we're reminded of every History Channel pseudo-doc ever produced on the topic of ancient astronauts. But then it redeems itself in the final 10 or 15 minutes with a couple of scenes that chill the blood, raise the hair, and cause us to look closely at something we really don't want to see.

In the closing segment of Osunsanmi's interview with Dr. Tyler, the camera pulls back for a wider view -- and we're left with a disturbing insight into what this whole experience has done to Abigail.

Yes, The Fourth Kind utilizes annoying camera techniques and presents a ham-fisted argument for the existence of intelligent beings from beyond, but it includes some of the scariest moments seen on film this year.