The Invisible Man Makes Horror Potently Transparent

H

.G. Well’s classic story has been transformed into a tale that tears off its famed bandages and goggles to boldly focus on the real-world horrors of abusive relationships and its implications on the women trapped in them. 

Cecilia (Elizabeth Moss) lives on a massive coastal estate with her genius husband, where it seems they’re living a great life. However, as we follow her meticulous escape from the mansion, we slowly realize how manipulative and damaging the relationship is. The sudden apparent suicide of her husband makes her feel as if a new chapter of her life is about to unfold, but as her newfound independence continues, she comes to realize that she isn’t truly alone. Her husband continues his domineering and vindictive ways in a form that is invisible to the world, but wholly transparent to her.

Continuing the auteur vision he brought to the 2018 sci-fi thriller Upgrade, Leigh Whannell concocts an audacious update to the 1933 horror film by making the atrocities the “invisible man” commits immensely resonant to real-world scenarios. His direction and screenplay cleverly weave from sci-fi horror one minute to domestic drama the next. This juxtaposition of styles allows for a unique commentary on the nature of harmful relationships and their manipulative effect on women. Positing that, whether supernatural or not, these abusive settings all equally have a vast negative effect on the health of women and their loved ones. Whannell’s taut direction makes us unnervingly aware of the actual people who are living through and have lived through these damaging relationships.

What counters these slip-ups and makes the film an effective genre piece is Elizabeth Moss’ profound reactionary performance as a woman who is being driven mad by a man that will not take no for an answer.

The thematic and sub-contextual ambitions of the film effectively illustrate both the fictional and non-fictional elements of the horrors presented. However, the film isn’t a tonal home run. While Whannel’s direction is commendable for the issues he conjures up and how he effectively gets the audience thinking about them, there are times where his set pieces have prolonged stints of over-the-top violence that result unintentional hilarity as they involve both major and minor characters making decisions that break the audience’s suspension of disbelief. Furthermore, there are some minor plot holes in the screenplay involving the use of security cameras that make viewers stop and say “what?” 

Regardless, these small missteps are not enough to break the overall enjoyment and complex thematic aspirations of the film.

What counters these slip-ups and makes the film an effective genre piece is Elizabeth Moss’ profound reactionary performance as a woman who is being driven mad by a man that will not take no for an answer. 

Moss is not foreign to complex portrayals of women in less than ideal situations, as evidenced in Mad Men and last year’s Her Smell. The use of Moss’ talents within the world of a horror film is revelatory, as her expressive eyes and emphasis on the physical side of performance forces the audience to not only resonate with her character’s plight but truly come to terms with the stakes involved in giving in to the demands of an abusive partner. Moss’ turn as a woman who is struggling to get freedom outside of this harmful relationship lends a dramatic component to this genre fare as it grounds the supernatural events to the real world. So much so, that it allows the audience to grow to view themselves in each of the situations she deals with. This non-fictional element is added to film solely through the realistic and physical performance Moss provides and its effect is so immense, that a slightly poorer performance wouldn’t be able to cement the film’s thematic goals.

Stefan Duscio’s cinematography is to be noted as well. It lends a distinctive voyeuristic eye to each scene, adding a cold distance and suspense to the overall tone of the film. The use of harsh blacks and blues in tandem with stark laboratory-like whites provide a simultaneous uneasiness and modern sheen to each scene. Duscio also chooses to frame each scene with wide or medium shots that allow the audience to fully breathe in the setting and get familiar with the places the bloodshed will cover. Furthermore, all these frames are supported by a lens that is always still or slightly gliding along in a way that places the main character alone, as if she’s isolated by not only her relationships, but her place as an independent woman in society as well.

The Invisible Man has all the trappings of sci-fi horror, but Whannel’s bold direction and screenplay in tandem with Duscio’s voyeuristic cinematography lend a much more profound sub-text to the film’s events. The film effectively achieves its thematic and narrative ambitions, but Elizabeth Moss’ performance further allows the audience to put themselves in her shoes and experience the horror firsthand. The film stays with you long after, forcing you to further look at the experience of women who are trapped in these very real abusive relationships.

Graphic by Alex Vialette

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