by Brian Kesler
'Dream House' has moments, no, flashes of good ideas. Unfortunately, the rest is abundantly stupid. Think 'The Shining' mixed with 'Shutter Island' and remove the eloquent dialogue, shocking performances, haunting photography, and delicious editing of each. That's this movie. I sometimes wonder how good directors can choose a screenplay bleeding with asininity. But, shockingly, not only is the screenplay a raging alcoholic of a mess, but the direction - from Jim Sheridan! of all people - is appalling.
Sheridan is known for his subtle and efficient directing, particularly in pulling thunderstorm performances from his actors. Daniel Day Lewis in 'My Left Foot' and Toby Maguire in 'Brothers' are two outstanding examples. Here, Daniel Craig doesn't have the psychological conviction of Jack Nicholson in Kubrick's 'The Shining,' nor does he have the bewildered curiosity and tragic heroism of Leonardo DiCaprio in Scorsese's 'Shutter Island.' There's a pitiful scene in which we can tell Craig is trying his little heart out to appear anguished and tortured, and instead he comes across as, well, someone trying to act anguished and tortured. There's no truth. Some actors seem like nothing but plot devices, such as Naomi Watts. Poor woman. She's not given a single piece of dialogue to showcase her talents. Even the way in which she's shot makes her seem like a prop. So, why did she do the movie? I'll never understand what draws big-name actors to such unsubstantial roles.
It's not necessarily the actors' faults they come across so amateur. The photography and the editing attribute to the incomprehensible scenarios. A scene in which a car with an unknown driver revs toward Craig maliciously is staged and edited so strangely, it almost came across as a Buster Keaton comedy. A game of cat and mouse between Craig and car, where car gets close to hitting Craig and Craig does pirouettes on the ice before landing haphazardly in the snow. The scene goes on quite a bit, and nothing ever happens except Craig getting in front of the car, the car revving forward, and Craig falling on his ass. Again and again. Why? It's silly, is what it is.
I guess I could tell you the story, but if you've seen a single advertisement for the movie, you'll already know a great deal of the premise and a major plot twist. This is why movie previews should be avoided. Something you may not know is that, despite what the trailer suggests, this is not a horror movie at all, or even that much of a haunted house movie. It actually becomes a really sloppy (the plot holes abounding) whodunnit mystery the likes of those two-dollar mass-market paperbacks you get at the grocery store. It doesn't start out that way. The film doesn't really know what it wants to be. It opens as a simple haunted house movie, tries to cross the border into psychological drama (the 'plot-twist' sequence is neither convincing nor enthralling), and ends up Victoria Holt wannabe, standing in the line at checkout reading sloppily bound pocketbook that was displayed next to the celebrity fad magazines, atrociousness. If a movie wants to satisfy my hunger for a whodunnit mystery, it better let me know it's a whodunnit mystery right from the get-go.
I could go on and on. The two little girls are not utilized effectively, and Rachel Weisz tries really hard to give a stunning performance from a role that denies her that pleasure. It really says something about a film when it is more invested in finding a way to end itself than exploring the characters it set out to study. Do yourself a favor: Netflix Stanley Kubrick's 'The Shining,' and Martin Scorsese's 'Shutter Island.' I'm saving you money, time, your health, and your sanity. And, you might actually be entertained.
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