Gripping but insignificant, The Method suggests Glengarry Glenn Ross with its teeth knocked out by Tony Soprano and nursed back to health by Mark Burnett. After the needless bit of split-screen madness that opens the picture, seven characters arrive at a corporate tower, where they are asked to participate in an experiment that will determine who is most qualified for a job in an unspecified organization. One moment these suits are trying to identify a mole in their midst, the next they are asked to state why they deserve a spot in a hypothetical bomb shelter (one female candidate gets a passing note for promising to give birth to the children of the future). The film is nothing but true to its title: it is all method, playing to our fixations with the lexicon of reality television programs like The Apprentice, which was similarly predicated on the belief that the best candidate for a job is determined through group experiments that get to the essence of people’s human natures and reveal their true capacities as workers. But who’s going to go next—and how they go—is this sleek film’s only agenda, not so much what the dog-eat-dog politicking that goes on inside the boardroom has to say about real-world dynamics. Several references are made to a heard-but-unseen anti-war protest happening on the street below, but whatever point the filmmakers hope to make about the disconnect between corporate entities and the average man barely registers through the schematic percolations of the script, which includes an out-of-nowhere sex scene in a bathroom that exists for no reason than to hurry one, possibly two, eliminations. Is it a coincidence that the final shot of the film is evocative of the scene from Resident Evil where Milla Jovovich walks into the world outside and is greeted by a world that is practically nonexistent? No joke, that movie offers a finer skewering of corporate greed.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.