An Open Letter to M. Night Shyamalan

Warning!! Spoilers may follow. But it probably won't matter, because M. Night has done everything he could to make his own movie unwatchable, and a few spoilers can do no more damage.

Dear Mr. M. Night Shyamalan:

Having seen your latest movie, The Happening, I have to raise a few objections. I will refrain, for the most part, of poking fun at the laughably ridiculous plot and instead give a harsh critique of your movie from a technical standpoint. But instead of stacking your film up next to the classic films to which you have compared The Happening, I will use your own movies, and my opinions of them as a base. The result, Mr. Shyamalan, is either a steady decline in anything relating to skill in filmmaking, or a steep incline of your own rather comprehensive ego. Or perhaps a mixture of both. But before I begin, let me say this: I like you as a director, and I think you should continue making films. But next time, please - please - take more time in making it and actually apply your obvious skills as a director.

Onwards!

The first scene should have been frightening. It should have sent chills up my spine, should have left a lasting impression of all those frozen people in Central Park clawing themselves to death to linger in my mind for weeks. But you know what ruined it? Your own writing. Example: People do not narrate the events surrounding them. And if they do, it is with short, wild bursts of emotion- or panic-laden, often incomprehensible speech. “What the hell?” the absurd dialogue may begin, with the protagonist of this example peering closer, until narrowed eyes blossom into saucers, followed by a shrieking ejaculation of shrieking concern. Perhaps this person would call for help, or they may decide to charge right on over and help the person who has, before their own disbelieving gaze, clawed themselves to death. Or perhaps they’d be so totally shocked that they would do nothing, paralyzed with shock. There are a hundred thousand responses to watching someone claw themselves to death, and I think you have found the absolutely least scary example. “Oh my god, is that person clawing at themselves? Is that blood?” Followed by an unconvincing wide-eyed stare. Dumb. More effective could have been simply the noise of the event, the camera never straying from the face of the strickedn woman as her friend beside her puts a hairpin through her jugular. You’ve managed such scenes with skill before, Mr. M. Night. Remember the scene in Signs when the aliens were parading through Mel Gibson’s yard, climbing on the roof, killing the dogs? We witnessed it all through the cramped, dark confines of a basement with only a flashlight providing the focal point. That was frightening. We didn’t need to see what was happening, because you had actors who could act, and apparently convincing foley artists as well.

There are countless other examples of misfires in the film, I can’t even begin to describe them all. The scene in the lion cage, for one, eerily reflects the scene from Signs in which the children’s birthday party is interrupted by the alien. And throughout it all, the audience is witnessing it through the catatonic, obsessive gaze of Joaquin Phoenix. I still jump when I see it, after countless viewings. It is a well-filmed, genuinely frightening moment. The chaotic viewing of the scene in the lion cage was ruined by two things – the absurdity of the lions’ behavior (one would think that a lion, when pissed off, wouldn’t simply nip at an arm, it would tackle the interloper and crush its windpipe, as it must have done to any other type of threat), the almost-more-absurd reactions of the crowd – both those near the cage and those viewing it on the iPhone (as to your equally absurd product placement I’ll not comment). The whole scene was flimsy, clumsy, and absurd. Again, I find myself sitting in the theatre with only the absence of any kind of fear or fright, longing for something that seemed to have been filmed by a person who knows what the fuck he is doing. But alas, maybe that day in the editing room you were gone early for lunch? Or maybe you were too busy admiring yourself in the mirror. Or comparing yourself to Alfred Hitchcock (even at your best, you have a way to come to meet that legend). I can handle an awkward scene or two, if the actors are convincing. I loved signs, even though the illogical nature of the ending drove some other viewers away. But Signs roped me in with convincing actors who had a well-written script behind them.

Which brings me to my next point. The acting. Was atrocious. Mark Wahlberg didn’t even look like he knew where he was, and everything he said was a question. Even his questions sounded more interrogative than was necessary, and when it was necessary, he still managed to make the line sound stupid. “Do you remember our first date!?” It sounded like every single person he talked to was a dog. “Hey buddy, people are killing themselves? Let us in and give us some food?” Dumb. And we know he’s better, which makes it worse. We also know that you’ve directed better performances out of people. Before I saw Unbreakable I was unconvinced as to Bruce Willis’ skill at handling anything beyond pointing a gun and barking out one-liners (As badass as Die Hard is, and will always remain, Bruce Willis was never known as being an actor that carried around a lot of depth. Which is fine). But you gave him a startlingly real, down to earth performance in a movie where you managed to do the same to what could have been ludicrously ridiculous. I’m still blown away every time I watch it. The script was wonderful, the acting was superb, and the entire film was more intelligently handled than its plot called for. In short, I loved it.

You may have had a few hints so far as to my opinion of your recent film. But there is one scene, I think, that perfectly shows just how far you’ve fallen. The scene outside the house with the shotgun-wielding rednecks. We’re met with yet another example of shoddy directing from someone who knows better. Slow motion, M. Night? Really? I don’t recall a single instance of slow-motion in any of your other films, at all. Something I applaud, because, in general, I hate slow-motion. Thus far you’ve managed to avoid it. But that scene tore apart any illusions I might have had of your competence in this film. In a movie you’ve personally paraded around as being so brutally gory that it needed an R rating turned out to be anything but. Christ, the Sixth Sense had more gore than that, and it was rated PG-13! What happened!? Seriously, I want to know. Because a few digitally-added bullet holes and some fake blood do not equal scary. The closest you ever came to gut-wrenching horror was at the beginning, when Claire stabbed herself in the jugular, but somehow you managed to ruin that as well, for reasons mentioned above. You didn’t need slow-motion there, Shyamalan, did you? What changed?

I guess that last sentence drums up what I think of your latest film. This is perhaps the first time I honestly disliked one of your movies. Even Lady in the Water had more potential – a couple of rewrites would have fixed a lot of it – and I still think The Village was good, even though, in light of a recent change of opinion regarding your directorial competence, a re-view may be in order.

I think you missed big time with this one. I think every facet of the film needed desperate improvement, and I think you’re so lost in a world of self-congratulation that you’re starting to view everyone who gives you a negative opinion as an interloper who must be crushed beneath your mighty directorial heel. Which was why we had the stupid scene in Lady in the Water when the grass-wolf killed the film critic. Not subtle, M. Not subtle at all. It seems like a psychological deterioration that many dictators suffer once they grasp the power they have. Hey, M. Night! When one person doesn’t like your films, it may be alright to think that one person might be wrong. After all, confidence in your work is necessary for a director. But when an increasing majority of people laugh at your newest filmographic ventures, it’s not jealousy speaking. It’s not an overarching plan to oust your from your wood-and-canvas directors chair. It’s an honest opinion. Sure, it’s alright to disagree, but when it comes down to it, you put slow motion in your movie.

And that might be the greatest sin of all.

Sincerely,

Adam Franti