The Cell: Movie, DVD Review (2009)

Directed by Tarsem, written by Mark Protosevich, 108 minutes, rated R.

Three-quarters of the way through “The Cell,” the 2000 serial-killer movie that stars Jennifer Lopez as a troubled psychologist, Vincent D’Onofrio as a troubled madman, and Vince Vaughn as a troubled FBI agent, my notes were uniformly in favor of panning the thin story and getting behind the artistry, which is terrific.

From my notes: “Great visuals but only for the sake of great visuals. There will be those who’ll seek meaning in all this elaborate hoo-ha--they’ll try to convince audiences there’s meaning in the special effects--but there isn’t.

“The images mean nothing. Worse, the story has the idea that its grisly depiction of a sadomasochistic serial killer will shock and repel us, but it doesn’t. We’ve seen nipple rings before, witnessed the occasional leather harness, the infrequent ball and chain. Am I supposed to be disturbed by seeing a man hanging from the rings he’s sewn into his own back? Not in this film. And that’s just the problem--the film depends on its melee of gore and special effects to give it the psychological depth it craves, when it should have, in fact, turned only to its characters.”

And then--out of nowhere--it suddenly does.

Near the end of the film, almost when it’s too late, comes the turning point, which has everything to do with Jennifer Lopez and the lingering shot director Tarsem holds on her face as she reacts to all that’s come before: a serial killer has kidnapped a beautiful woman and put her in an enormous glass tank slowly filling with water. If help doesn’t come soon, the woman will drown.

The problem for Peter Novak (Vaughn) of the FBI is that nobody knows where the woman is. The serial killer, Carl Stargher (D’Onofrio), has been caught, but he’s certainly not going to be talking anytime soon. He’s in a coma.

In a last-ditch effort to learn where the woman is, Lopez’s character, Catherine Deane, utilizes a risky scientific procedure to enter the serial killer’s mind, a beautifully fertile place that Tarsem, who dropped his surname after directing music videos for Nine Inch Nails and R.E.M., paints in broad strokes of vivid vulgarity.

It’s in this murderer’s hypnotic subconscious that Catherine wanders, learning things about his childhood that finally give the film the weight and power it needs. It’s not what she discovers that’s remarkable (it won’t be revealed here, but it’s actually rather cliche). What is remarkable is how carefully Tarsem has stacked his film to build to this surprisingly stirring denouement, in which a succession of truths are revealed--not the least of which is how damning a place the world can be.

Lopez’s haunted expression nicely captures the horror of her situation--and Tarsem is right there capturing it in close-up. It’s a fine piece of acting and directing, both of which bring unexpected cohesion to a film that, in the end, isn’t nearly as slight as I’d originally thought.

Grade: B