February 25, 2020

Film Review: The Color Out Of Space (2019)

Imagine, if you can, the terror of encountering something so alien that you can't really see it. A color outside the spectrum of human vision. A color that will transform everything around it into an otherworldly monstrosity.

This is the eerie, unnamed thing that invades the Gardner farm when a meteorite lands on their property. It's a precarious household already, with one teenage son (Brendan Meyer) hooked on weed, one teenage daughter (Madeleine Arthur) dabbling with Wiccan rituals and the Necronomicon (because it wouldn't be Lovecraft without it, duh), and the mother (Joely Richardson) struggling to make ends meet with her Internet business in the wake of a mastectomy. The father (Nicholas Cage) tries his hardest to keep the family glued together despite his ill-advised investment in alpacas. Their youngest son (Julian Hilliard) watches with awe as neon lights erupt at night. Before long, every family member witnesses unsettling and macabre episodes that preclude the coming of what might be a larger alien force that can't even be comprehended.

Richard Stanley adapts HP Lovecraft's short story with a surprising amount of personality, especially since Lovecraft's stories are best known for their ideas and monsters than their characters. Despite all their dramas and issues, the Gardner family are an interesting pack I can root for, before watching in dismay as they all fall apart. As expected, the cosmic forces become the centerpiece of the movie, and it does deliver ample amounts of grotesque abominations and dazzling neon lights.

The film has been criticized for the mere audacity of trying to capture something that is literally "unfilmable," a feat that makes this particular Lovecraft story a failure to adapt. And yet, that never stopped Stanley, just as it never stopped a few other films before this one--most notably, 2010's Die Farbe, which cleverly showed the unfilmable color by turning the entire film black-and-white, save for the alien threat (which was a vibrant pink). What Die Farbe failed to do, however, was engage. It was a very droll affair with no characters to latch onto and very drab composition. While I kind of wish Stanley's film would have used the same B&W trick, I think he captures the theme just fine by doubling-down on the neon lighting--cheap perhaps, but the film smartly contrasts its alien colors with muted, natural colors around the farm. I think it's just fine that way.

The chain of uncanny encounters are hardly new. Some of the mutations invoke the same formless monstrosities that made John Carpenter's The Thing so memorable. What happens to the plant life is something that we've recently seen in Jeff Vandermeer's Annihilation, and its film adaptation (and it just so happens that the shimmering-eye effect from Garland's film is also repeated here). Even the premise echoes the Jody Verrill's tragic tale from Creepshow (itself based on a Stephen King short story, with King himself playing the part in Romero's film). It felt as though a brief history of cosmic horror cinema played before my eyes, but it never came off as a rip-off. If anything, all these horror callbacks probably owe their successes to Lovecraft to begin with--to see the creature and gore effects carried over feels like a circle has been completed.

One thing I find striking is how much of the family conflict reminded me of other Stephen King works--most especially The Shining, with Nathan Gardner's arc mirroring the madness and familial pressures that Jack Torrence faced (influenced by other forces nonetheless). It's especially uncanny that Nicholas Cage and Jack Nicholson play their respective father figures with an exaggerated level of expression, both walking the fine line of insanity between terrifying menace and over-the-top absurdity. The Cage Rage is as volatile as ever, with outbursts that will elicit a laugh or two (maybe even a meme). And yet, Cage also embodies insanity in a way that invokes threat and fear.

The story by nature splits its time among all its characters, pushing the two teenage leads as the real protagonists who discover the alien threat first. But it's a random hydrologist (Elliot Knight) who gives the bookending narration and leads the charge in the end. With all these varied points-of-views (many of which carry emotional baggage), it's hard to latch onto any single character to root for (doubly so when characters make dumb decisions or act strangely, which happens on occasion). The experience is made palatable with fair writing quality, solid camera composition, and an appropriately synthetic score from Colin Stetson.

2019's version of The Color Out Of Space achieves the right effect, invoking horrific visions of glowing entities and unnatural monsters in the midst of a troubled family. There's a lot more spunk and spirit to the characters than existed in the short story and other adaptations--coupled with the film's solid quality, I find much to enjoy and appreciate. However, customary to the themes of Lovecraft, this is a bleak, nihilistic experience that harps much on the fragile nature of mankind next to cosmic things that can't be truly seen or understood. Combined with a fair amount of gore and occult tropes, and some outrageous scenes, it can be a harsh watch. What I find more redeemable, however, is Nicholas Cage's extraordinary acting, which despite having laughable moments is actually terrifying (just like Nicholson from The Shining). I am also smitten by the film's style, effects, and its ability to maintain tension and mystery. Rent and behold the colors for yourself, if you dare!

7/10 

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