The Village (July 28/04)

If nothing else, you have to admire M. Night Shyamalan for continually playing with the expectations of his audience. Though he's essentially stuck to the same genre since hitting it big with The Sixth Sense five years ago, there's no denying that each of his successive films has been completely different than the one before. The trailer for The Village seemed to promise something fairly close to Signs, his last movie, in that it appeared to be about a small community coming under siege from outside sources. And while that's true to a degree, The Village is far more concerned with the ins and outs of small town life in the late 19th century. It's a choice that might turn off some viewers, but the combination of Shyamalan's natural gift for storytelling and the strongest ensemble cast he's ever featured is impossible to resist.

As is always the case with a Shyamalan film, the less said about the plot the better. Set in 1897, The Village follows a close-knit community that's been forced to remain outside the woods that encircle their town - lest they anger the mysterious creatures that reside within. It's a fact of life that every citizen seems to accept, though Lucius Hunt (Joaquin Phoenix) wants to venture beyond their borders to procure supplies for the town. He is certain that the creatures will be able to sense his good intentions and leave him unharmed, particularly since resident simpleton Noah Percy (Adrien Brody) has traveled into the woods on numerous occasions. But the elders, led by Edward Walker (William Hurt), aren't convinced and forbid Lucius from making the journey.

Shyamalan has been quoted as saying he was inspired to write The Village after the events of 9/11, and it's not difficult to see such parallels in the film's story. The town's citizens are completely isolated from the outside world, relying on each other for support and comfort. It's fairly clear that the village itself represents Shyamalan's vision of a Utopian society; even the creatures themselves aren't considered much of a threat, provided nobody travels into their domain. It's probably not a coincidence that everybody that lives within the village is portrayed as happy and content.

It's become something of a trademark for Shyamalan to imbue his films with a slow, deliberate pace - something that doesn't always work (ie Unbreakable). But with The Village, Shyamalan effectively builds the suspense by allowing us to get to know the characters first (an impressive feat, given how many of them there are). Though Shyamalan has peppered his cast with a number of familiar faces, it's newcomer Bryce Dallas Howard that receives the most screen time. Playing a blind girl named Ivy, Howard is required to run the gamut of emotions - while also engendering sympathy from the audience (she eventually becomes the hero of the piece). It's an eye-opening performance that all but assures Howard a long career (unless her upcoming role in Lars von Trier's follow-up to Dogville kills it).

Supporting players like Hurt, Phoenix, and Sigourney Weaver (playing Lucius' mother) don't have quite as much to do, though Shyamalan never relegates them to scenery. If there's a complaint to be made regarding the performances, it's Shyamalan's continued instance that his actors speak in muted tones. It works when there's a creature around the corner, but it's becoming something of a cliché that all of his characters whisper to one another - no matter what the situation.

As enjoyable as The Village is, there's little doubt that it will be the most heavily debated film of Shyamalan's career thus far. It's a love-it-or-hate-it sort of movie, depending primarily on how certain third act revelations hit you. But even detractors must admit that Shyamalan does a fantastic job of establishing the mood of this small town. There are certainly opportunites for nitpicking within the film's storyline - ie Ivy's blindness sure comes in handy towards the end - but Shyamalan envelopes the viewer in this world so effectively that it's easy to overlook such elements.