Review: ‘The Invisible Man’ Engages With What Can’t Be Seen
As studios engaged in franchise wars trying to come up with the next MCU, Universal made do with what they had and tried turning their classic Hollywood monsters into contemporary blockbusters. The result was the Dark Universe, and before this monstrosity could even properly get off the ground, it was killed ... twice.
First came Dracula Untold, then the Tom Cruise centered star vehicle that was The Mummy, and finally, premature casting for a slate of films all before the single most important component key to any franchise: a good first film. The resulting failure forced an IP reset, and the folks at Blumhouse, the production studio known for embracing the ‘low budget, high return’ model for horror films, were given the reigns in the hope that they could do something with these long dormant properties. With new dry powder, they tapped to Upgrade director Leigh Whannell to take on their first entry, The Invisible Man, and if history were any indication, the film shouldn’t have been as good as it is.
Elisabeth Moss leads as Celia, a survivor of domestic abuse. Having been held prisoner by a wealthy and controlling psychotic CEO of an optical technology company, she tries to start a new life while facing pervasive trauma. When she finds out that her ex has killed himself, she momentarily finds freedom both physically and mentally. But, it’s not long before the trauma she thought she left behind comes back, and inexplicable incidents take place around her, events she believes are tied to her former partner.
Unlike Universal’s prior attempts with their monster franchise, Whannell finds success in going small. Both Dracula Untold and The Mummy were blockbuster epics with too much gravitas than their premise could provide. By contrast, Whannell takes an intimate and delicate theme and graphs it onto an, admittedly, very dated premise. ‘A scientist turns himself invisible and no one can see him.’ Woah, spooky. It’s a premise fitting of the time it came out in, that being 1933, so a reimagining seems all but necessary today, especially if you want to make it about something as serious as domestic abuse.
Whannell’s iteration grapples with the lingering trauma domestic abuse has on the victim. Celia bears physiological scars that — like our allegorical villain — cannot be seen. The parallels drawn between the invisible monster and the psychological demons that terrorize domestic abuse survivors is an apt metaphor, making for the physical manifestation of what cannot be seen. It focuses heavily on the traumatic aftermath and the legacy threat of a returning ex coming to extract harm.
Her testimony of continued harassment followed by the dismissal by those around her is a problem being confronted in society as we speak. To speak out about domestic abuse or sexual violence means being met with scrutiny, often invalidating the word of the female victim in favor of the male perpetrator, and this issue of distrust in the victim is found in Celia’s own testimony. It’s contemporary and relevant, even if the high concept premise distances itself from a layer by layer dissection of the issue itself.
Technically speaking, the film implements a very clever visual language built around negative space. If you’ve seen Travis Bickel making a desperate phone call for a second date as the camera gives up on his prospects, then you’ll be familiar with the implementation here. Cinematographer Stefan Dustin often pans the camera to empty space before the line of action reaches the frame and sometimes, not at all. The resulting effect creates a lingering presence, as if something or someone should stand out to us but nothing reveals itself, generating a omnipresent sense of unease that we can’t see what’s right in front of us. It’s executed intelligently, deployed without mercy, and used to mount tension from our own inability to see the threat we know is coming.
It may be dismissive, but The Invisible Man really shouldn’t have been this good . . . but it is. The fact that a delicate thematic subject matter wasn’t completely blown is no small feat. What will become of future Universal monsters is unclear. They will probably be worse than this, but in the meantime, we should give credit where credit is due before small scale success gives way to something truly monstrous.
