Unfortunately, M. Night Shyamalan can’t seem to shed his Old issues, and until he does, we may not see another Signs or The Village anytime soon. Old is playing in cinemas nationwide now.
The legacy of M. Night Shyamalan is a curious one. There seems to be little in between for the director – we have The Sixth Sense and Signs, but we also have Lady in the Water and Devil. It’s undeniable that Shyamalan always brings something creatively intriguing to the table, but his predilection for grand-explainer twists can trip him up. Part of the fear that comes from horror is the unexplainable, that fear of the unknown that feasts upon the rational consciousness. What M. Night seems to oscillate between constantly is a frightening sense of the horrific and a titillating notion of the thriller. That’s certainly what appears to be happening in Old.
M. Night structures his latest endeavour with a traditional set-up – a seemingly happy family led by risk analyst Guy (Gael García Bernal) and Prisca (Vicky Krieps) whisk themselves away to an idyllic resort, and the cracks quickly reveal themselves. Shyamalan’s no stranger to expositionary dialogue, as Guy and Prisca trade barbs about their failing marriage and mysterious ailments that befall them. Guy’s supposedly always thinking about the future. In contrast, Prisca can’t seem to envision one – it’s funny how their problems are related to perceptions of time and its impact on the human condition, right?
García Bernal pulls off a convincing performance as a husband weakened by emotional fatigue, hiding the crumbling marriage and unknown illness from his family, which will inevitably take a serious toll on you. Krieps’ Prisca, on the other hand, is far less unconvincing – a lot of her delivery leaves more to be desired, and it feels like she’s just hitting her mark and speaking her lines plainly, rather than a trapped woman in an uninspired, dwindling marriage.
When we finally get to our premise, things develop pretty rapidly, as do the ages of our protagonists. Once our feet are planted on the mysterious sand, M. Night hits the gas and does not let up. There’s a constant barrage of event after event, discovery upon discovery, as we work ever faster to make our way to the actual meaty horror of this pulpy tale. Some may find the pacing a little too manic, potentially overwhelmed by the sheer amount of visual and narrative information fired at us. This isn’t helped by the ten trapped beach-goers to focus on despite their gradual dwindling.
It feels as though Old would’ve benefitted from a culling of this large group earlier on, to instead focus on the fracturing of the family alongside the actual distortion of the dynamic through the rapid ageing. Emun Elliott and Embeth Davidtz are easily the most captivating of the entire cast as they rapidly transform into their adult counterparts, Alex Wolff and Thomasin McKenzie.
Watching these pre-teens suddenly blossom into adults without the psychological and emotional growth to accompany them creates a distorted, childlike innocence that feels remarkably off-kilter and unsettling. It’s evident that Trent cannot comprehend the consequences of his actions, leading to one of the film’s most disturbing sequences. This is where the horror shines best, as the actual body horror of rapid ageing is disappointingly limited. At most, our troupe have crows-feet and wrinkled eyebrows, but we see nothing like our skeletal sunbather promised in the poster.
Old is adapted from the French graphic novel Sandcastles, and it is this difference that cements Old’s downfall. Whereas Sandcastles’ focus is on the impossibility of understanding the mystical nature of the beach, Old seems determined to give you all the answers you seek and more. What could’ve been a psychological weaving of accepting one’s own mortality turns into this bizarre science-fiction B-Movie, turning an already surreal premise into something downright goofy. It’s M. Night being unable to help himself, and pushing it just that step too far – Old didn’t need more; if anything, it needed less.
What’s engaging and compelling about this idyllic hellscape is the contradiction between paradise and purgatory – as though the inhabitants on the beach could’ve been anywhere or perhaps were being tortured by an unknown malevolent entity. The fun is not in the knowing; it’s in the speculating and theorising. Unfortunately, M. Night Shyamalan can’t seem to shed his Old issues, and until he does, we may not see another Signs or The Village anytime soon.
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