Panic Room
Starring Jodie Foster, Kristen Stewart, Forest Whitaker, Dwight Yoakam, Jared Leto, Patrick Bauchau
Screenplay by David Koepp
Produced by Cean Chaffin, Judy Hofflund, David Koepp, Gavin Polone
Directed by David Fincher
Released by Columbia Pictures
Rated R
2002
***1/2
I don't like Fight Club. It's not profound, it's confused about itself, and it's too long. The mechanics are breath-taking, while the story is either over-stuffed or poorly-thought-out, I'm not sure which. Nevertheless, a certain brand of critic has found in it the cultural zeitgeist and taken it as a banner of discriminating taste, and this has led to reprimands for David Fincher's new film. The popcorn ambitions of Panic Room apparently aren't enough, and so we have to contend with criticisms that this is a rote, not "profound" enough exercise, the same kind of crap that greeted Soderbergh's Ocean's Eleven.
So here it is, an allegorical interpretation to stave off those people. At the beginning, credits are solidly placed in Manhattan's urban environment, ominously floating over the heads of the residents along with prominent advertisements invading people's territory. So when Jodie Foster's home is broken into, take it, if you like, as an indication that her home (hearkening back to the un-consumerist shithole that passes for a lab/command base in Fight Club) is similarly subject to the advertising trying to take over your private space (the thieves are there, after all, only for the money that's stashed in the house). Ominous rumblings of this are in the film (especially the finale, which liberates Whitaker from the bondage of money), though, in truth, most of the film is too concerned with plot mechanics and raising suspense for this to matter. I mean this as a good thing: if you don't strech for great truths, you don't end up falling on your ass.
3 things stand out in this movie. First, the cast: it's terrific to have Jodie Foster back, the trio of thieves (Jared Leto, Forest Whitaker and especially Dwight Yoakam) is perfectly delineated, and much praise must go to Kristen Stewart, who, in only her second film, offers a perfectly rounded portrait of the pre-teen diabetic as a perfectly appealing smartass. Secondly, the style of the whole enterprise. Aided by cinematographers Darius Khondji (fired relatively early in shooting for taking too long with each shot) and Conrad W. Hall (moving up to the post of real cinematographer after years of 2nd- and 1st- unit work), Fincher's widescreen compositions are terrific, and a whole-scene in slow motion approaches cinematic poetry; the same goes for the remarkably fluidity of movement allowed by computer graphics. Some have objected to the obvious electronic gimmickry at work, but it's incredibly cool and controlled, and the total control Fincher has of the environment is impressive. Finally, this is one of the very few suspense films of recent years to generate actual suspense. If the heroes (Foster and Stewart) must win and the bad guys must lose, it's nevertheless a riveting trip, helped by Fincher's judicious use of gore. Good stuff all round, and surprisingly well-written, with some actual characters rather than automatons going through the motions onscreen. If nothing else, this is shaping up as a good year for big talents flexing their pop-entertainment muscles. Now if only Fincher's thoughts were clearer, he might mix weighty ideas with so much style and come up with one for the ages.