Directed by: Chan-wook Park.
Written by: Wentworth Miller.
Starring: Mia Wasikowska (India Stoker), Nicole Kidman (Evelyn Stoker), Matthew Goode (Charles Stoker), Dermot Mulroney (Richard Stoker), Phyllis Somerville (Mrs. McGarrick), Harmony Korine (Mr. Feldman), Lucas Till (Pitts), Alden Ehrenreich (Whip), Jacki Weaver (Gwendolyn Stoker), Ralph Brown (Sheriff).
Korean
director Chan-wook Park has made a name for himself by directing ultra-violent
movies in his home country. Yet as violent as his films are, they are also
extremely well made, and for the most part intelligent. Oldboy (2003) is
inarguably his masterpiece so far – a revenge film/melodrama that Quentin
Tarantino obviously admired - the jury he headed at Cannes gave it the Grand
Prize of Jury, essentially second place, which was interesting because while
Cannes has no shied away from extreme Asian cinema, they have shied away from
giving it prizes. Like many foreign filmmakers who find a following in North
America, Park decided to come to Hollywood. His Hollywood debut is Stoker, a
nasty, wonderfully directed and acted Hitchcock homage. While Stoker may not be
as good as the Master’s best films – or Park’s own best films for that matter –
it is still an early year highlight.
Mia
Wasikowska stars as India Stoker, a sullen, depressed, extremely intelligent
teenage girl, whose beloved father (Dermot Mulroney) dies in a car accident on
her 18th birthday. Her mother Eve (Nicole Kidman) doesn’t seem all
that broken up by her husband’s death. And then on the day of his funeral her
Uncle Charlie (Matthew Goode) shows up, and moves right into their house, and
has eyes for his sister-in-law, who seems more than game. What makes this even
stranger is that she didn’t even know she had an Uncle Charlie – but the
longtime family housekeeper (Phyllis Sommerville) does know him – and she
quickly vanishes. A relative (Jacki Weaver) will also show up one night,
wanting to talk to Eve about Charlie, but she leaves the house after dinner,
and India never sees her again either.
It
is with mounting dread that we watch the movie, and we fear for this sullen,
but innocent young girl who is at the mercy of a monstrous mother, and perhaps
an even more monstrous Uncle (and if you’ve seen Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt,
you know what we’re dealing with in Uncle Charlie). Wasikowska is great in her
role here – seemingly still, but she is constantly watching and never misses
anything. She is better in roles like this – or as the title character in Jane
Eyre – than in more “heroic” roles like Burton’s Alice in Wonderful. Her
beautiful, seemingly innocent face is capable of telling us so much, so when
the movie starts twisting, and the plot twists become more and more ridiculous,
Wasikowska keeps the film grounded and believable. We may not believe what is
going on around her, but Wasikowska makes us believe in how India responds to it.
Kidman
is excellent as well, even if Eve is a tad one-dimensional – she is the monster
of a mother, who doesn’t really love her daughter, as much as she feels jealous
of her – jealous that her late husband spent more time with India than with
her. And when Charlie comes in, and outwardly prefers Eve to India, she is so
blinded by her own pride, that she doesn’t see what is happening right in front
of her eyes – that Charlie has no real interest in her. He only has eyes for
India. Matthew Goode is good as Charlie, a charming mask, an easy laugh and all
charm. He is the mystery at the center of the film. Where did he come from? Why
did he come back? Given the name of the movie, Park’s last film Thirst, and
given that Charlie always leaves his plate untouched, you’d be forgiven in
thinking that he is perhaps a vampire. Goode gamely plays along, not offering
too many clues as to what his secrets might be.
Perhaps
more of a star than any of the cast members is Park and his direction. This is
a wonderfully directed movie, with excellent, creepy sound design, and a camera
that looks unblinkingly at the horror on screen. Some will inarguably say that
the film’s style is over the top and trumps the subject, but Park’s style
perfectly matches the over the top subject matter. The violence in the film is
strong, bloody and potent – and yet still cannot hold a candle to what Park has
put on screen in the past – because it doesn’t need to.
Of
course, as with most movies of its sort, Stoker’s weakest moments are when the
secrets the film has worked so hard to conceal come pouring out – this time
they are both horrific and disturbing, and yet still kind of bland and
predictable. Yet what Park is able to do is twist individual moments
brilliantly – making us think one thing, only to have his camera pull back and
reveal an entirely different meaning (the scene in the shower is the most
brilliant example of this). The film begins and ends at the same spot, and yet
what was beautiful at first, has now become horrific when we understand the
meaning. With Stoker, Park succeeds wonderfully in doing what Hitchcock loved
to do – playing the audience like a piano.
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