Wednesday, November 26, 2014
YOLO COUNTY NEWS
99 CENTS

‘Stoker': A chilling family affair

India (Mia Wasikowska) loves to play the piano; it’s a great way to release tension. Charles (Matthew Goode) also enjoys the instrument, but his fondness seems more directed at playing with his niece ... and the resulting duets turn rather creepy. Courtesy photo

By
From page A7 | March 29, 2013 |

“Stoker”

3.5 stars

Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Matthew Goode, Nicole Kidman, Dermot Mulroney, Jacki Weaver, Alden Ehrenreich

Rating: R, for violence, disturbing sexual content and brief nudity

Unhealthy relationships fuel this macabre, provocative thriller

By Derrick Bang
Enterprise film critic

In Chan-wook Park’s corrosive view of the universe, blood isn’t merely thicker than water; it positively congeals the connective tissue of inherited moral putrescence.

And nurture doesn’t stand a chance against nature.

Park, the South Korean director known for gorgeously stylized but grimly unsettling thrillers such as 2003’s “Oldboy” and 2009’s weirdly disturbing “Thirst,” has made an equally disconcerting American debut with “Stoker.” This new film is gorgeous to look at, with cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung creating captivating magic with every frame, but the on-screen beauty is at odds with the casual rot festering within our three primary characters.

That juxtaposition is intentional, of course, as is the undercurrent of amused detachment that laces every scene in Wentworth Miller’s gleefully nasty script. These characters taunt, torment and torture each other with an élan the Borgias would have admired, and Park orchestrates the mayhem in a manner that essentially dares us to enjoy the depravity right along with them.

Some of the humor is obvious, starting with the connotations raised by Miller’s choice of a family name — Stoker — or the affectionate nod toward Alfred Hitchcock’s “Shadow of a Doubt,” by naming Matthew Goode’s unhinged interloper Uncle Charlie. But we also can’t help chuckling at the enthusiastically carnivorous manner in which Goode tears into his character; rarely has evil been this charming, tempting … and forbidden.

The film opens as India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska), recently turned 18, stands at the edge of a field, staring intently at something within. She describes herself cryptically via off-camera narration, adding a layer of poetic eloquence to a tableau that already seems vaguely wrong.

The scene shifts to an India who seems slightly younger and significantly more withdrawn; we understand that we have retreated in time, but not too much. This is her 18th birthday, and she’s indulging in her favorite annual treat: finding the “special” present from her beloved father, who always hides it in a cryptic manner. The gift itself doesn’t matter all that much, and in fact it’s the same every year: a fresh pair of saddle shoes (definitely not an accidental choice on Miller’s part, given the shoes’ striking contrast between black and white).

No, India anticipates the thrill of the hunt, and the knowledge that her father has gone to so much trouble to please her.

But this birthday is colored by tragedy, as the household is stricken by the news that Richard Stoker (Dermot Mulroney) has been killed in an explosive car crash, his body burned beyond recognition. India’s mother, Evelyn (Nicole Kidman), takes this news with odd detachment; we gradually realize that her emotions have been blunted by years of inexorable estrangement, possibly augmented by alcoholism.

India glances up during the gravesite ceremony, suddenly feeling the presence of an additional set of eyes; she spots a shadowy figure at one end of the cemetery. Later, during the wake back at home, this figure introduces himself as Richard’s brother, Charles. Even through her emotionless ennui, Evelyn reacts with surprise: This is a man about whom she knows nothing, save for the mere fact of his existence. He is, indeed, her late husband’s younger brother.

India, even more suspicious, takes pains to avoid contact, let alone conversation. But when Charles announces his intentions to stay for a while, she eventually cannot avoid him.

“What do you want?” she finally challenges him, one day.

“I want to be friends,” he answers.

She pauses a beat, considering her reply, and then says, “We don’t have to be friends. We’re family.”

Right there, the bond is struck … although India doesn’t know it yet. But Charles does, and his smug half-smile is a thing of chilling, hypnotic triumph.

Indeed, it’s impossible to take our eyes of Goode. Park elicits a performance that is otherworldly, almost supernatural; on top of his many other disturbing talents, Charles has an uncanny knack for appearing at precisely the right (or wrong) moment. Park’s fans will be excused for wondering, during this film’s first act, whether we’ll soon stray into the vampiric horror of “Thirst.”

But no, Miller’s story is rigorously real-world, albeit somewhat removed from the trappings of civilized society. India, her mother and Charles reside in a massive estate that bespeaks considerable family money; although India attends high school and occasionally interacts with fellow students, she spends most of her time — as do we — in the opulent shelter of her home and its surrounding woods.

The subsequent pas de deux between uncle and niece is fascinating on all sorts of levels, starting — most noticeably — with its incestuous whiff, and also because we’re not quite sure who’s playing whom. At the same time, Park definitely plays us: suggesting much but revealing little, composing scenes that appear straightforward but turn out to be seductively ambiguous. Or, worse yet, horrific.

Best of the latter comes when India, following a close encounter in the woods that turns vicious, retreats home to cleanse herself with a long shower. She seems stunned, distraught, shattered beyond speech; Wasikowska’s body language bespeaks stark, soul-grinding terror … too much to absorb. But as the scene continues, we realize — and not happily — that we’ve made yet another rash assumption, and the revelation has the impact of a physical blow. It’s a slick piece of acting by Wasikowska.

Park, Chung and editor Nicolas De Toth contribute to this edgy sense of uncertainty at every turn. We watch spiders scuttle across the floor and then crawl up a leg; strands of gently brushed hair morph into a grassy field; lap-dissolves are employed at odd moments, as transitions from one scene to the next.

Clint Mansell’s minor key, piano-heavy score deftly augments the creepy undertone.

Much as we admire the luxurious art of Park’s approach, however, all this technical virtuosity remains at odds with the increasingly sordid narrative. A sense of behavioral disconnect also begins to emerge, and that’s more troublesome. Could anybody — even somebody as cold and withdrawn as Evelyn — really fail to perceive the monster she has sheltered beneath her roof?

Kidman doesn’t help much; it’s impossible to get a reading on Evelyn’s thoughts or possible motivations.

We don’t spend much time with India’s father Richard until a third-act flashback, at which point Mulroney establishes a very strong presence; he’s particularly compelling as Richard struggles with his mixed feelings for the younger brother he both loves and loathes. At the same time, we suddenly wonder whether Richard has been sheltering India from her uncle … or attempting to blunt something awful by granting it an outlet.

India’s voice-over self observes that her father felt that it was all right to do something bad, if that might prevent one from doing something worse. Needless to say, that opens all sorts of disconcerting windows into her soul.

It’s easy to fall under this film’s spell; Miller’s script is fascinating, if repulsive, and Park’s approach — the very atmosphere he generates — is as mesmerizing as Charles himself. But you’ll likely feel soiled after the lights come up, and want to wash away the sense of having participated, as a reluctant voyeur, in something very, very nasty.

If a film’s success is determined by the way it lingers in one’s mind, then “Stoker” is successful indeed.

Because you won’t forget this sick puppy any time soon.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at http://derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com

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