Fractured. Brad Anderson. 2019. ☆☆☆★★★
I’m half a minute in and I’m assuming they’re Shalamaying us.
[time passes]
So now I’m 15 minutes in and I’m still assuming that they’re Shyamalaning us, but even if they aren’t, the assumption is draining all fun out of the movie.
Not that there’d be much fun anyway. It’s a pretty turgid drama thriller thing where we’re supposed to feel excited about any incongruence. It’s got a really standard grey teal colour grading going on, and the actors are standard, and the cinematography (if you want to call it that) is standard.
OK, I’m now at 25 minutes, and they’re not Shyamalaying it the way I thought! Is the twist that there’s no twist!?
Oh yeah… they’re just assuming that we’ve never seen a movie with this plot before, and I guess such a person exists. I mean, everybody’s been nine at some point in their lives. Except those that are younger.
I usually don’t want to spoil movies, but I don’t think there’s anything here to spoil.
In summary: It’s Double Shyamalan. (I’m only 45 minutes in, though, so perhaps there’s a triple coming.)
[time passes]
Oh, well. They didn’t shyamalan it exactly the way I thought they were shyamalaning it, but it was pretty close.
This post is part of the NFLX2019 blog series.