Went into this sufficiently prepared for all the pure pulpy cat-and-mouse thriller formal athleticism of Shyamalan and DOP Sayombhu Mukdeeprom getting to do their own teen girl pop star concert variation on Hitchcock’s Rope or De Palma’s Snake Eyes (endearingly inspired by Shyamalan having been clearly tasked with the role of dorky girl dad chaperone before by his daughter Saleka, who not since Dario and Asia Argento has there been a more obvious “look at my beautiful, talented girl!” writing and casting decision beneficiary), but as a result I was left blindsided by the fact that this is much more of a bizarre comedy of logistical convenience with a perverse The Stepfather or Raising Cain style twist to it. The first two acts absolutely delivering on the tension, pathology and paranoia of its serial killer POV/sting operation concept, tracing the geography of the venue as it gradually becomes a claustrophobic space for our cornered serial killer to anxiously and playfully navigate—great use across the board of wide-angle lenses and intense close-ups but the consistent attention paid to the killers wandering sight lines and framed use of the giant screens during the show itself is especially impressive.

However, I think even for those already attuned to the Shyamalan wavelength when it comes to dialogue/performance style there could be an odd tonal calibration period that starts the second Hartnett’s alien vision of an awkward loveable cartoon dad mask just barely covering dead-eyed psychotic impulses hits the ground running. One that he is quite good at suddenly shifting the register and weaponizing his charisma in service of but that seems to inspire nearly every supporting character/actor he comes into contact with as well. The film seemingly adopting his unnatural and intense compartmentalization of identity that he pointedly describes not just as two lives he needs to manage the work/life balance of but two lenses in which he sees his environments. Turning every social interaction into a power dynamic game that he observes with an uncomfortable sense of amusement, which then plays off of the comically exaggerated dramatic irony of the stressful situational thrills themselves. There are a lot of funny individual moments but the one that got me and felt instructional for the tone moving forward was Hartnett suggesting to his daughter mid-song that they go down inside the stage trapdoor that a guest singer just popped out of because it "looks really cool!" Whether this aspect of the movie works for you or not will be key, as its genuinely surprising and unpredictably weird third act hinges on you having bought into the absurd nature of his House that Jack Built OCD decision-making perspective, and how it manages to keep chugging along and paying off long after it should.

This is all a long way of saying I think there will unfortunately be a lot of discussion around the contrivances and credibility of the increasingly ridiculous escape plan moves and countermoves made in this deeply demented movie where the goal is quite obviously not realism or naturalism, but something closer to that satisfying ludicrousness of choosing an ambitious strategy during a level of Hitman and getting hilariously lucky. Complete with all goofy NPC-tricking disguises and distractions (including similar uses of staircases and deep fryers), and a genuine howler of an escalating misdirection finale that manages to claw itself into a new contorted position every single time you think it’s finally come to its logical end. Honestly, as soon as the audience I saw it with figured out that it's essentially been written as a series of silly corners he couldn't possibly get out of... and yet, it absolutely killed. I don’t want to spoil the conclusion but would be remiss not to mention how delightfully it flirts with the earnestness you’ve come to expect from Shyamalan (briefly appearing to indulge in all the somber psychological diagnostics, emotionally cathartic realizations, and the tearful disintegration of a domestic family unit, etc) … Only to perversely sink its teeth right back into the game again. Not sure if this was a situation where he just ran with where the protagonist’s headspace and gleeful approach to his violent magic act took him, but this has to be the most sadistic unabashed fun he’s had both in front of and behind the camera in some time.

Also, completely unrelated, but the Toronto-as-Philly location work is very funny and had me thinking about an alternate version of this where a Blue Jays fan finally snapped.

Full discussion on my podcast SLEAZOIDS.