Written by: Leigh Whannell
Starring: Elisabeth Moss, Harriet Dyer, Aldis Hodge
IMDb Link
From the moment the film allows the ocean's waves to crash against empty space, thundering in to the cinema's space and revealing the film's invisible title, The Invisible Man becomes a uniquely intense experience, isolating us within the sights and sounds that our lead experiences, and deftly foreshadowing one of the film's most intense moments in the process.
The film follows Cecilia (Moss), who manages to escape her abusive and controlling ex-boyfriend Adrian (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), and as she struggles to re-adjust for fear of him finding her, she learns that he has committed suicide, and left his fortune to her, under the condition that she commit no crimes and be found to be mentally stable. Of course, once she signs for the fortune, a series of events that grow in magnitude and tragedy happen to and around her, and in case the film's title wasn't enough of a giveaway, there's more going on here than can be seen.The obvious nature of Adrian's looming threat is one of the film's most-repeated strength: the film is constantly setting up ideas ages in advance of actually executing on them, broadcasting its intentions to the audience, knowing that they, like Cecilia, will be helpless to stop anything from happening. Even the most innocuous transgression, before Cecilia even receives the news of Adrian's death, isn't without purpose, as Cecilia's sister Emily (Dyer) betraying her trust to come visit her at the house of Emily's ex-husband James (Hodge) is the key to Cecilia's location being revealed in the first place. It's the sort of thing that reinforces the audience's place inside Cecilia's perspective, and allows us to believe and understand her, even at her worst, despite Adrian's escalating actions that see her drawn up as a danger to herself and others.
Of course, that reinforcement requires a strong foundation to work, and thankfully Moss as Cecilia offers one of her best performances, capturing every mood and swing with a heartbreaking reality as she becomes more and more isolated by the man who wants to control her life above all else. There's a perfect little juxtaposition between the slow transition from the depressive to the elated, to the paranoid and manic, and the veneer of understanding we are afforded from watching it all unfold from her perspective, and Moss walks that razor-thin edge between lucid desperation and the crazed lunatic Adrian paints her as perfectly, both strengthening our belief in her and the callous cleverness of his actions.
All of this is presented with a backdrop that shows Whannell's best directing to date (although I still say 2018's UPGRADE is his best work in terms of writing). Shots are cleverly framed to convey a need for a character within the empty space on-screen, clicks and whirs occasionally underscore the corners of the soundscape, and there's never a point where a scare is rushed for the sake of an easy scare, instead carefully layering on pieces of information, building tension so appropriately painful that we're almost begging for the scare to happen so we can be released from it, and that release happening, at the best of times, with screeches that are diagetic. Whannell also hasn't lost his comedic streak, thankfully, the moments of violence and gore actually coming as a welcome counter to the film's otherwise meticulous approach to horror; even what is arguably the film's darkest moment isn't without a tinge of comedic surprise, as a laugh is stifled before the true horror of the situation is realised. It's really excellent filmmaking all-round.
The Short Version: Whannell and Moss are at their best here, creating an experience that is often that much more enthralling for how agonisingly restrained it is; there's an understanding of how tension builds that's rare among recent horror films, both in how it puts us in the main character's state of mind and how it waits for the right moment, and it allows The Invisible Man to create its biggest scares out of empty space and slow camera movements.
Rating: 8/10
