He's sitting in that chair.
H. G. Wells' 1897 novel The Invisible Man told of Griffin, a genius in the scientific field of optics, who is driven to violence having achieved invisibility - irreversibly so. In 2020 writer/director Leigh Wannell has reworked the premise, forging it into a horror-thriller to satisfyingly suspenseful effect. The best scary films - I've said it before - tend to be those about something beyond their obvious hook. Wannell's film puts a diabolical spin on Wells' idea, one that gives the story a spiky modern resonance and a reason to exist all its own. If you didn't see the need for this new version, look again. Look hard.
The Griffin in question this time around is Adrian - a brilliant optical physicist like his 1897 literary counterpart, but equally an abusive and coercive partner to Cecilia (Elizabeth Moss). When she finally breaks free of his control, the worst of her suffering seems behind her, dramatic developments appearing to confirm that Adrian won't ever be a part of her life again. But then a string of unnerving events suggest the incredible - that her ex is stalking her invisibly, in a terrifying literal sense. As her closest friends and family dismiss her fears as PTSD-induced paranoia (you can't not see their point), the unseen threat intensifies. And as her world threatens to crash all over again, fragile Cecilia struggles in her attempts to retaliate or even to prove she's not losing her mind.
If as originally intended The Invisible Man had been part of Universal Studios' 'Monster Universe', this would have been a very different film. The shrewdness of this version is to take the fantastical premise and ground it in reality, forging a notably modern story about coercive control. Who better to terrorise an emotionally damaged ex than someone she can't even see? And isn't it the MO of that type of abuser - to make his victim appear like she's the crazy one? However outlandish the basic concept of invisibility, the story's psychology convinces completely, so that it's easy to buy into the reality of Cecilia's plight.
This is a high-tension experience throughout. Years of working in the Saw and Insidious franchises have honed Wannell's skills as a director of suspense. A taut opening sequence establishes the stakes, making it clear how terrifying a proposition Adrian is even when clearly three-dimensional. Every trick is utilised here (the occasional well-placed jump-scare included) to ensure you're rattled like Cecilia from the very start. Then a more creepily subtle approach takes over along with the invisibility shenanigans. Little can be more unsettling than a camera lingering significantly on empty space, cluing you in on the threat neither you nor the protagonist can see. There's an accompanying chill in the colour palette too as events turn sinister, draining all the protective warmth from the home Cecilia finds with her friend James and his daughter Sydney (Aldis Hodge and Storm Reid). And that's just the first act. Any time our heroine threatens to outwit her nemesis from them on, this screenplay has a wicked way - accompanied by Benjamin Wallfisch's jagged score - of upping the threat level.
At the centre of all this is Moss, who's been becoming steadily more visible since Mad Men by way of The Handmaid's Tale. Her portrayal of Cecelia is the stuff of awards (if those doing the awarding could get over their genre movie snobbery). Jumpy from sustained trauma at the start, she spirals through degrees of fear and derangement, before evolving by necessity into something gratifyingly different. It's a performance marked by authenticity - the kind where cathartic releases of emotion happen before your eyes with no camera breaks to aid them. Take into account that she's often acting with an antagonist who isn't visibly there and you grasp how impressive this all is. There's commendable support - Hodge's sympathetic but skeptical friend and Michael Dorman's spineless brother-of-Adrian both stick in the memory - but it's Moss's show first and last and she rises heroically to the unseeable challenge.
If I've made the movie sound sombre and over-serious, let me just clarify that this is primarily an escalating thrill-ride - one that cranks its way to vertigo-inducing heights of tension before plunging into third-act mayhem. Yes it carries genuine thematic weight, but those themes are all delivered through sustained anxiety and heart-racing excitement. Even the invisibility shtick - practical effects favoured over CGI - are convincing enough to keep you fully invested. What might have been dismissed as a run-of-the mill genre flick is anything but. Whatever you're expecting to view, there's much more to this Invisible Man than initially meets the eye.
Gut Reaction: Had me socially distancing myself from my seat at one point and in an advanced state of unease for the rest. The ending is a satisfying belter though.
Memorable Moment: You'll know it when you don't see it.
Ed's Verdict: 8/10. Never before has an invisibility film invoked such a sense of 'is he there or not???' A terrific horror-splashed thriller and a pre-quarantine reminder of why I like the group movie experience so much.
It could look like someone you know or it could be a stranger in a crowd. Whatever helps it get close to you.
The Gist: Jay, a teenage girl in rural Michigan, has a sexual encounter with a guy, after which she is told she has contracted a kind of curse. She will be followed relentlessly to the death by an entity that can take on any appearance, including that of someone she might know. The only way to pass on the curse is to have sex with someone else, problem being that the pursuer can kill its way back through the chain of those who have slept together. Taking her sister and a group of friends into her confidence, she tries to work out how 'it' might be defeated...
The Juice: Released in 2014 It Follows became an indy horror phenomenon and a breakout hit for writer/director David Robert Mitchell. It's a genuinely creep-inducing concept, establishing a slow-burn paranoia early on that never goes away. The movie draws strongly on Halloween as an influence with its autumnal backdrops, the mysterious absence of adults (take that as teens wrapped up in their own world), old horror movies playing on TV and of course the theme of relentless pursuit. There's similar use of widescreen too - though much less darkness - with potential manifestations of 'it' strolling into the periphery of your vision. The film has its own unique quality, however - that of a misty waking nightmare (the lush synth score lulls you into false security at points) - and is much more concerned with the lives and inter-relationships of its teen protagonists along with the consequences of their sexual choices.
The Judgement: 8/10. While not perfect (the dialogue can be frustratingly mumbly at points and some of the decision-making is as inexplicable as in any slasher movie) this is beautifully made film with a devious central twist on the classic stalk-and-slay horror movie and its targeting of sexually active teens. It's a twist that's cleverly explored right through to the end. The story is layered and ambiguous throughout, and the climactic confrontation with whatever is as inventive as it is gripping. Definitely worth a place in your horror collection.
Personal Fear Factor: There are some disturbing images, but this is more about clammy fear than blood-spillage. It didn't have my heart thumping, but it did make me shudder at points.
