Wes Craven Catches the Red Eye

Circa 1996, post- New Nightmare Wes Craven was a joke. An all too familiar jest of films with predictable plot points, wooden characters that could've benefitted from a water seal treatment, and a commencement of the resurrection of the teen slasher genre that the rest of the world glad-handed out of existence. Scream brought it all back, and with it, brought out the worst in one of the best genre directors of all time.

{For argument's sake, I'll file Music of the Heart under the 'pretend it never happened' category.}

Red Eye changes all of that; in one blooming package, it's one of the most taut films to hit the cineplexus since The Usual Suspects. The rare type of film that exercises subtle, smart filmmaking over the guts-and-glory handbook Craven had indoctrined into his own head. It's slow, creepy, clever, and even better -just plain eerie.

Cillian Murphy (Disco Pigs, 28 Days Later) plays an odd fellow named Jackson, whose plane gets stalled at the boorish Dallas Airport runway. He casually meets Lisa (Rachel McAdams), as the duo are seated next to one another in what could be your average 'Must See TV' product. What follows is: boy meets girl, girl meets boy, they flirt, they laugh, he informs her he's an operative en route to assassinate someone staying at her hotel. What? No second date?

If the emotionally frazzled Lisa doesn't comply with every nook and cranny of every single detail of Mr. Jackson's plan, she runs the risk of losing her dad, played by the always brilliant Brian Cox (Rushmore, Adaptation), who seems to have his hands methodically wrapped around every decent fan-boy project since his turn as Stryker in X2. Thus begins the amazing game. Not one of cat-and-mouse, as we've all seen that before and anything close would be a doltish repetition of film mistakes past, but one of intense thought -and finality.

Kudos to the filmmakers (Mr. Craven, pay attention) on creating some of the most chilling details in the script, and staying away from other thriller conventions by totally going out of left field on their sub-plots and visuals. Sacrificing contemporary story device favorites in lieu of the ingredients made famous by guys like Frankenheimer and Hitchcock in the 50s and 60s. Blend that with the guerilla experiences Craven had in the early 70s with his start-up pieces, and you've got a melting pot of scare history.

To spare the expense of giving away crucial spoiler nuggets, let's just say the cataclysmic string of events which follow thread the film with a rhythm of a rapidly beating heart. Fast, feverish bursts of agony and complete catastrophe, which is left open for the mind to fill each and every terrifying blank.

For those fans of knee-jerking out of their seats by those treasured 'jump' moments, you won't be disappointed. Craven weaves them in with tenacity and class, reminiscent of The Hills Have Eyes. Yes, folks. Mr. Wes has returned to the genius he so exclusively dissowned years ago. No silly Drew Barrymore stuff. No staple 'it' bands on a plastic soundtrack. No more besmirching of Mr. Fred Kreuger's reputation. Just a fright-fest, plain and simple...minus the high school prom crowd.

Performances all around were fantastic. Mr. Murphy, imparticular, was exceptional. With his recent turn as Scarecrow in Batman Begins, Cillian has proven his ability to chew through scenery without being over the top about it; and Red Eye is no exception. He reminds me of a young Lon Chaney: a booming presence that has finesse within his character studies.

This film turns out to be the finest example of crowd-pleasing you'll find in the midst of Clunkerville, Population: Stealth.