Review: The Village

The film is a high-camp mélange of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and B.F. Skinner’s Walden Two.

The Village
Photo: Touchstone Pictures

Heed my warning, for it is coming. M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village, a high-camp mélange of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and B.F. Skinner’s Walden Two, is the year’s worst film. It’s such a spectacular failure on every conceivable level that I kept hoping its meandering and moronic mise-en-scène would attain the insane visionary brilliance of John Boorman’s Zardoz. But, then, I realized, there can only be one Zardoz.

To say that Shyamalan has bitten off more than he can chew with The Village would be a vast understatement, as the filmmaker is practically drowning in food for thought. Beginning as an isolationist horror film about evil porcupine people terrorizing a 19th-century American hamlet, The Village eventually morphs into the worst kind of post-9/11 allegory, telegraphing its every twisted move and screaming its earnest subtext hoarse. A slave to its story, the film falls back on tried-and-true genre staples—from the blind girl (Bryce Dallas Howard) to the village simpleton (Adrien Brody)—as cheap tension generators, probably necessary considering its (somewhat intentionally) cheap-looking villains.

It’s futile to talk about acting in Shyamalan’s hermetically sealed Skinner’s box. Howard is a pasty period-dress Barbie doll, cruelly manipulated by the director’s contrived narrative chess games. William Hurt blusters and bellows, channeling A.I.’s Professor Hobby to significantly lesser effect. The scar on Joaquin Phoenix’s lip has more personality than his meek character, while Brody is insufferable in all his Method-Gump machinations. “It…is…farce!” screams Hurt’s character, town elder Edward Walker, during one of the film’s “big” revelations, and you may be inclined to agree if only to avoid taking a moment of this dispiriting drivel seriously.

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Score: 
 Cast: Joaquin Phoenix, Adrien Brody, William Hurt, Sigourney Weaver, Cherry Jones, Brendan Gleeson, Michael Pitt, Bryce Dallas Howard  Director: M. Night Shyamalan  Screenwriter: M. Night Shyamalan  Distributor: Touchstone Pictures  Running Time: 108 min  Rating: PG-13  Year: 2004  Buy: Video, Soundtrack

Keith Uhlich

Keith Uhlich's writing has been published in The Hollywood Reporter, BBC, and Reverse Shot, among other publications. He is a member of the New York Film Critics Circle.

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