Movie review: The Eye
Editor’s note: We are pleased to bring you the first in an ongoing series of movie reviews and news from John P. Meyer of Pegasus News, a subsidiary of Fisher Communications.
Aside from the fact that it needn't have been made, the Americanized version of the Pang Brothers' Hong Kong creepshow Gin Gwai - known in its current incarnation as The Eye - is a pretty respectable scare-fest, which begs the question: why wasn't it screened for critics? Tandem directors David Moreau and Xavier Palud have even succeeded in extracting a natural and sympathetic performance from the typically mannered and self-conscious Jessica Alba, who plays the lead.
I say it needn't have been made because the original Chinese language version is a perfectly good movie in its own right. As was the case with the Japanese productions Ringu and Ju-on, however, Hollywood producers decided it would behoove them to render the titles more accessible to U.S. citizens - the majority of whom cannot be bothered with subtitles. (At least, that's the perception.)
Oddly, though, instead of retaining the Pang Brothers to reprise their opus in English (which it would seem they are entirely capable of doing), the producers chose a different duo to direct. Maybe Moreau and Palud work cheap.
In any case, The Eye retains many of the story details from Gin Gwai, beginning with its basic premise: talented young musician (Ms. Alba, as Sydney Wells), blind since early childhood, receives a corneal transplant from an anonymous donor and begins seeing things - and discovers that this whole "joy-of-seeing" gig isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Because, you see, some of the things Sydney sees are both odd and disturbing. When someone dies, for instance (such as the occupant of the hospital bed next to her), Sydney's blurry vision affords her glimpses of the shadowy leave-taking of that individual, which is invariably accompanied by the presence of a dark, snarling, demonic presence whose job it is to shepherd the newly-disembodied spirit into whatever realm they're destined to eternally inhabit. (If these creatures have anything to do with it, I personally want no part of it.)
While in the hospital, Sydney is befriended by a charming and precocious child named Alicia (Choe Moretz), who - by virtue of her acquaintance with Sydney and the fact that she's about to go in for brain surgery - might as well be wearing a placard that says "Dead Kid Walking." Alicia's parting (and rejoining) remarks to the effect that "life is beautiful, don't be afraid" offer nothing in the way of evidence to support this cheery outlook - rather, her disembodied visage becomes one of the numerous things to be afraid of.
These include a series of horrific dreams that occur at the stroke of 1:06 a.m. on an all-too regular basis, with fire being a primary theme. There's also a kid in a raincoat who hangs out in the hallway of Sydney's high-rise, moaning about his lost report card. Worst of all (or best, if you're into that whole being hugely scared routine) is the revenant entity who hangs out in the elevator, floating slowly towards Sydney as the car makes its sluggish progress towards her 16th floor landing. One episode with this facially-challenged chap would be enough to put me on a strict stair-climbing regimen.
Sydney's "vision coach," Dr. Paul Faulkner (played by the hunky Alessandro Nivola), will entertain none of her mad ramblings about seeing the dead or hanging out in the charred ruins of an oriental restaurant where the events that led up to its charring are replayed for her edification; he insists she's just having a hard time adjusting to the sighted realm, and flatly refuses to break professional ethics by giving her information about the donor whose corneas she now possesses - or vice-versa.
And here's a bit of itchy-eye, continuity-squabbling rub: did Sydney also receive an ear transplant? Because not only does she see dead people, she hears them; thus her attempt to explain her experiences to Dr. Paul by agency of "cellular memory" seem to leave an entire avenue of sensory input unaddressed. While we're at it, wouldn't this movie be more correctly titled "The Eyes," since a pair of corneas are involved? Even horror films centering on ocular perception can't bear too much scrutiny, it appears.
Tear-duct scrapings aside, The Eye succeeds by creepshow standards and includes some well-orchestrated, leap-from-your-seat shocks; those carrying beverages into the theater would be well advised to ensconce them firmly in one of the cup holders conveniently provided. While it arguably spends too much time in post-op, the movie does eventually resolve its out-of-focus plot elements and leaves one pondering whether perhaps that cloudy-iris look isn't a rather good one for Ms. Alba.
PHRASE WHICH TAKES ON A WHOLE NEW MEANING BY VIRTUE OF THIS MOVIE: "You have her eyes."
THE DOCTOR ISN'T ALWAYS RIGHT: "These are your eyes now and they're working. It doesn't matter where they come from." - Dr. Haskins (Obba Babatundé), Sydney's surgeon.
Aside from the fact that it needn't have been made, the Americanized version of the Pang Brothers' Hong Kong creepshow Gin Gwai - known in its current incarnation as The Eye - is a pretty respectable scare-fest, which begs the question: why wasn't it screened for critics? Tandem directors David Moreau and Xavier Palud have even succeeded in extracting a natural and sympathetic performance from the typically mannered and self-conscious Jessica Alba, who plays the lead.
I say it needn't have been made because the original Chinese language version is a perfectly good movie in its own right. As was the case with the Japanese productions Ringu and Ju-on, however, Hollywood producers decided it would behoove them to render the titles more accessible to U.S. citizens - the majority of whom cannot be bothered with subtitles. (At least, that's the perception.)
Oddly, though, instead of retaining the Pang Brothers to reprise their opus in English (which it would seem they are entirely capable of doing), the producers chose a different duo to direct. Maybe Moreau and Palud work cheap.
In any case, The Eye retains many of the story details from Gin Gwai, beginning with its basic premise: talented young musician (Ms. Alba, as Sydney Wells), blind since early childhood, receives a corneal transplant from an anonymous donor and begins seeing things - and discovers that this whole "joy-of-seeing" gig isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Because, you see, some of the things Sydney sees are both odd and disturbing. When someone dies, for instance (such as the occupant of the hospital bed next to her), Sydney's blurry vision affords her glimpses of the shadowy leave-taking of that individual, which is invariably accompanied by the presence of a dark, snarling, demonic presence whose job it is to shepherd the newly-disembodied spirit into whatever realm they're destined to eternally inhabit. (If these creatures have anything to do with it, I personally want no part of it.)
While in the hospital, Sydney is befriended by a charming and precocious child named Alicia (Choe Moretz), who - by virtue of her acquaintance with Sydney and the fact that she's about to go in for brain surgery - might as well be wearing a placard that says "Dead Kid Walking." Alicia's parting (and rejoining) remarks to the effect that "life is beautiful, don't be afraid" offer nothing in the way of evidence to support this cheery outlook - rather, her disembodied visage becomes one of the numerous things to be afraid of.
These include a series of horrific dreams that occur at the stroke of 1:06 a.m. on an all-too regular basis, with fire being a primary theme. There's also a kid in a raincoat who hangs out in the hallway of Sydney's high-rise, moaning about his lost report card. Worst of all (or best, if you're into that whole being hugely scared routine) is the revenant entity who hangs out in the elevator, floating slowly towards Sydney as the car makes its sluggish progress towards her 16th floor landing. One episode with this facially-challenged chap would be enough to put me on a strict stair-climbing regimen.
Sydney's "vision coach," Dr. Paul Faulkner (played by the hunky Alessandro Nivola), will entertain none of her mad ramblings about seeing the dead or hanging out in the charred ruins of an oriental restaurant where the events that led up to its charring are replayed for her edification; he insists she's just having a hard time adjusting to the sighted realm, and flatly refuses to break professional ethics by giving her information about the donor whose corneas she now possesses - or vice-versa.
And here's a bit of itchy-eye, continuity-squabbling rub: did Sydney also receive an ear transplant? Because not only does she see dead people, she hears them; thus her attempt to explain her experiences to Dr. Paul by agency of "cellular memory" seem to leave an entire avenue of sensory input unaddressed. While we're at it, wouldn't this movie be more correctly titled "The Eyes," since a pair of corneas are involved? Even horror films centering on ocular perception can't bear too much scrutiny, it appears.
Tear-duct scrapings aside, The Eye succeeds by creepshow standards and includes some well-orchestrated, leap-from-your-seat shocks; those carrying beverages into the theater would be well advised to ensconce them firmly in one of the cup holders conveniently provided. While it arguably spends too much time in post-op, the movie does eventually resolve its out-of-focus plot elements and leaves one pondering whether perhaps that cloudy-iris look isn't a rather good one for Ms. Alba.
PHRASE WHICH TAKES ON A WHOLE NEW MEANING BY VIRTUE OF THIS MOVIE: "You have her eyes."
THE DOCTOR ISN'T ALWAYS RIGHT: "These are your eyes now and they're working. It doesn't matter where they come from." - Dr. Haskins (Obba Babatundé), Sydney's surgeon.