Monday, March 24, 2008

DVD movie review: Them

Is fear itself the only thing our protagonists have to fear? (They wish.)

By John P. Meyer

Faceless. Anonymous. Hoodied.

Tandem directors David Moreau and Xavier Palud, riding (comparatively) high on the modest success of their English-language feature debut, The Eye, will experience another visibility boost on Tuesday (March 25) with the DVD release of their French-language (English-subtitled) production, ils (Them).

Them does one thing and does it very effectively: it builds terror, from mundane beginnings and uneasy foreshadowings which lead to full-on run-for-your-life screaming hysteria. And then it drops a big surprise-ending bomb. (Kaboom.)

It succeeds in this without resorting to special effects of any sort, relying rather on good old-fashioned suspense, character sympathy and relentless - if at first subtle - menace.

In terms of foreshadowing, we're briefly introduced to a squabbling mom and her impatient and distracted daughter on their way home in their car one night, driving down a deserted country lane. Mom, making that often-fatal mistake of looking away from the road to converse more forcefully with her daughter, hits something and swerves off the asphalt, ending up smashing into a tree. When Mom gets out of the car to inspect the damage, she raises the hood, and we - seeing things from the viewpoint of the daughter - can only sit and listen (and watch, straining to see right through the raised hood and into the darkness beyond) as a series of thumps and weird ratcheting noises emanate from the front of the vehicle. Not a good sign.

Pursued down a long, long hallway. Like a bad dream.

Cut to a Bucharest school where our protagonist, Clémentine (Olivia Bonamy) is finishing up her workday and preparing to head home - driving along the same country road where the auto involved in the previous night's events is being towed away by police.

Clémentine lives with her spouse, Lucas (Michaël Cohen) in a rambling country estate far from the nearest neighbor. (Uh oh.) This place is big enough to be a dormitory, with long upstairs hallways (which will be put to effective use as menace mounts), creaky doors and squeaky floorboards. How this young couple of seemingly modest means has ended up occupying such an expansive residence is never made clear; as mentioned, Clémentine teaches (not the world's most lucrative profession - though perhaps it ought to be), while it appears that Lucas is some sort of writer. (And thus clearly not the source of their massive income. Ahem.)

After establishing a comfort level with the characters - we observe them eating dinner, then horsing around a bit on (and off) the sofa while watching TV afterwards - the story begins to build tension. Lucas deals with the barking family dog, then he and Clémentine retire to their upstairs bedroom.

All's quiet on the rural Romanian front until the phone rings - at which point Clémentine, being the more awake of the two, foots it downstairs to find out who's calling so late at night. On the line she hears nothing at first, and then there's that odd, eerie clicking noise we last heard during the roadside emergency depicted in the film's initial scene. Clémentine, of course, has no context for the sound, and thus can make nothing of it. She returns to bed, and eventual slumber.

It's at this point that unsettling cards begin to be laid on the dramatic table, with Clémentine waking to the sound of a radio coming from beyond the bedroom window which faces the front of the estate. With considerable difficulty, she wakes Lucas and both of them proceed downstairs, where they discover that Clémentine's car has been moved from its position directly in front of the house to a spot farther down the driveway. The sound of the radio is coming from her darkened auto.

Thus begins a series of diabolical cat and mouse games in the course of which the young couple's anonymous tormentors approach ever-nearer, eventually entering the house and leading a certain percentage of us who are watching the movie to wonder: "why doesn't Lucas just grab his pistol from the drawer of the night stand?" Of course, this is all transpiring in Europe, where handy guns in nightstands are (presumably) a bit harder to come by than they are in - say - Texas.

Clémentine ventures into the attic; Lucas tries to stop bleeding.

In fact, Lucas turns out to be the most ill-prepared excuse for a protective alpha male ever, possessing not even a flashlight or a letter opener, much less a firearm. After botching his chance to whack a villain with a fireplace poker (Yay! Something to strike back with!), he retreats, wounded, to the bedroom where Clémentine is forced to take up the reins of their dark horse struggle.

Eventually, Lucas and Clémentine are herded into the woods surrounding their house, and finally into a subterranean network of tunnels where the dark forms of their pursuers begin to resolve themselves. But who are they, and what is it, exactly, that they want?

Them serves as a shining example of how one can start with little in the way of resources (money, time, props) and end up with a creepy, scare-inducing treat. It proves once and for all that the most powerful boogie men are not the ones storming our castle walls, but the ones already residing inside.

ONE DOWN, (?) TO GO: "The beast has been subdued." - Lucas, re. the barking family dog

ALPHA MALE HE AIN'T: "What do we do?" - Clementine. "I don't know." - Lucas

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