Running time: 107 minutes
Starring: William Hurt, Joaquin Phoenix, Bryce Dallas Howard, Sigourney Weaver, Brendan Gleeson, Adrien Brody
Rating 8 out of 10
The Village of M Night Shyamalan's sixth feature has no name, and neither do the creatures that terrorise it from the surrounding woods. These occasionally glimpsed and hauntingly designed beings are referred to by the village folk simply as "Those We Don't Speak Of", and their threat instils a paranoiac fear into the heart of the town. In this Pennsylvanian community of 1897, all is apparently idyllic: an isolated but self-contained world which wants to exist in more or less perfect harmony without any outside interference.
Trying to control the paranoia is Edward Walker (William Hurt), the town leader, and his associated village elders, including Sigourney Weaver and Brendan Gleeson. Their fear of the creatures is only matched by their absolute resistance to enter into the outside world, and when the young Lucius Hunt (Joaquin Phoenix) requests permission to cross the encircling woods, he is stoutly forbidden.
Shyamalan's film contains several unexpected plot twists which, if revealed, would spoil any first viewing. Suffice to say that as the villagers' fears increase, so does the intensity of Lucius' love life: wooed by both of Walker's daughters, Kitty and Ivy (Judy Greer and Bryce Dallas Howard), he has a difficult choice to make, and the local village idiot (Adrien Brody) is monitoring his actions with a zealous eye.
Sumptuously shot by Roger Deakins - who has been cinematographer on the last eight Coen Brothers films - The Village is continually arresting to look at. The pallid costumes of the characters are jarringly exposed against the occasional glimpses of colour, notably the bright red associated with the presence of the woods-based monsters. The technical success of the film is highlighted by a beautifully shot forest sequence, where Shyamalan uses his trademark creeping camerawork to excellent effect. Cleverly, he announces his impending shock moments before showing them to us, and inexplicably every time they still make us jump.
The film also boasts a cast on top of their game, and extremely adept at communicating their insular paranoia. Phoenix delivers a low-key but charismatic performance as the lonely Lucius. Adrien Brody brings a combination of light relief and depth to his simpleton character, but the revelation is Bryce Dallas Howard, the gracious and beautiful Ivy. Howard won't need to rely on her family name - she is Ron Howard's daughter - from now on, and after being spotted by the director in an off-Broadway play, her future success seems assured on the strength of this elegant and hugely watchable debut.
There are many layers to Shyamalan's new creation, and his trademark twist - or twists - are very much in play once again. Even if you do work out what is going to happen, it's a film whose images will pop into your mind for days to come after watching it.
Trying to control the paranoia is Edward Walker (William Hurt), the town leader, and his associated village elders, including Sigourney Weaver and Brendan Gleeson. Their fear of the creatures is only matched by their absolute resistance to enter into the outside world, and when the young Lucius Hunt (Joaquin Phoenix) requests permission to cross the encircling woods, he is stoutly forbidden.
Shyamalan's film contains several unexpected plot twists which, if revealed, would spoil any first viewing. Suffice to say that as the villagers' fears increase, so does the intensity of Lucius' love life: wooed by both of Walker's daughters, Kitty and Ivy (Judy Greer and Bryce Dallas Howard), he has a difficult choice to make, and the local village idiot (Adrien Brody) is monitoring his actions with a zealous eye.
Sumptuously shot by Roger Deakins - who has been cinematographer on the last eight Coen Brothers films - The Village is continually arresting to look at. The pallid costumes of the characters are jarringly exposed against the occasional glimpses of colour, notably the bright red associated with the presence of the woods-based monsters. The technical success of the film is highlighted by a beautifully shot forest sequence, where Shyamalan uses his trademark creeping camerawork to excellent effect. Cleverly, he announces his impending shock moments before showing them to us, and inexplicably every time they still make us jump.
The film also boasts a cast on top of their game, and extremely adept at communicating their insular paranoia. Phoenix delivers a low-key but charismatic performance as the lonely Lucius. Adrien Brody brings a combination of light relief and depth to his simpleton character, but the revelation is Bryce Dallas Howard, the gracious and beautiful Ivy. Howard won't need to rely on her family name - she is Ron Howard's daughter - from now on, and after being spotted by the director in an off-Broadway play, her future success seems assured on the strength of this elegant and hugely watchable debut.
There are many layers to Shyamalan's new creation, and his trademark twist - or twists - are very much in play once again. Even if you do work out what is going to happen, it's a film whose images will pop into your mind for days to come after watching it.
