Knock At The Cabin
From a man who brought us two good films and then 20 years of utter nonsense (despite the assertion that a revival occurred) comes the apocalyptic mess, Knock At The Cabin. The screenplay (which took three people to write) is an adaptation of Paul Tremblay’s 2018 novel The Cabin At The End Of The World, a book I have not read and, based on its Goodreads score, likely never will. This film is a mystery devoid of mystery and a horror that isn’t scary; if I didn’t know any better, I’d equate its director to a certain wizard hiding behind a curtain, whose inevitable ousting as a hack has taken far too long. M. Night Shyamalan can’t be blamed for wanting to maintain the illusion of his mastery but what he can be blamed for is almost everything else in this film.
Daddy Eric (Jonathan Groff) and Daddy Andrew (Ben Aldridge) take their adorable daughter Wen (Kristen Cui) to a cabin in the woods for a little family vacay. While Wen is out bottling grasshoppers for observation, an enormous man named Leonard (Dave Bautista) emerges from the trees and tries to befriend her. Wen errs on the side of Stranger Danger but is easily talked into acquaintance through their shared affinity for trapping insects. As Leonard starts to speak cryptically about something terrible he has to do, Wen runs off and before we know it, Len and his weird mates show up on the cabin’s porch and request to be let inside. The dads assume they are being accosted by slightly overzealous (and armed) Jehovah’s Witnesses - little do they know, they’re kind of spot on.
Forcing their way through every entry other than the front door, Leonard and the Knockers tie up the cabin's inhabitants and (very slowly) introduce themselves before spilling the beans on their purpose. The quartet met in a doomsday forum, bonding after they all had similar visions of the end of the world. They’ve come to this precise location to coerce a choice from those staying here; a sacrifice from their family must be made for the good of humanity, or else. The ‘else’ is that if the daddies refuse to choose, they must walk the scorched Earth for the rest of their natural lives with only their daughter and each other for company. For the raging misanthropes in the audience, this decision doesn’t seem particularly difficult and Dad Andrew, whose familiarity with bigots has made him this-way aligned, speaks for the family in his refusal. The first Knocker, Redmond (Rupert Grint), puts a white bag over his head and mutters something appropriately judgey, and the family watch as disturbing signs o’ the times play out on the afternoon news.
Image courtesy Universal Pictures
Like Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Killing Of A Sacred Deer, the film’s success hinges on the strength of its premise and the filmmaker’s conviction in exploring its moral and emotional ramifications. The family (and the audience) must ask themselves if the Knockers, like many religious fanatics whose beliefs centre on end times, are just mad people reaching for meaning in coincidence or if their claims of being regular folk brought together by truth bear any weight. We should be internalising this proposition, worrying about the characters’ plight and anxious of the outcome. Unfortunately, the authors of this tale don’t allow much breathing room for thought or introspection before spelling out what was blatantly obvious all along.
It’s fascinating to have watched the trajectory of Shyamalan’s career from once being touted as “the next Hitchcock” and featuring in iconic advertisements for American Express to having one of his film’s unofficially retitled as ‘Mark Wahlberg is confused.’ His overuse of the twist has led to the hungry expectation in some viewers that each new film he makes should contain one; this cohort may be slightly disappointed that Knock At The Cabin subverts the trope and instead has its high concept moment early on. But that’s not really the problem with the film; for us, there are many more legitimate things to complain about.
Knock At The Cabin suffers from a disconnect between ideas and execution, with a self-importance that often comes across as ridiculous. Poorly written dialogue is delivered with the heft of a stage production, yet lit in a way that makes it difficult to take any of it seriously. The setup is so full of word vomit unconstrained by any sort of coherent tone that it frustrates rather than intrigues. Attempts at humour may very well be unintentional, especially during this setup, and it’s a theme that recurs towards the end of the film despite being wildly inappropriate and odd. There are out of place cliches in the camera work that seem to exist purely to add flavour and Shyamalan’s insistence on shooting his actors close up completely skews the effect of their laboured breathing (of which there is a lot). It’s a film that assumes its audience’s unfamiliarity with Funny Games or Straw Dogs and while that may be correct for some, those who are will be entirely immune to the attempts at tension. And if all this weren’t enough, Shyamalan insists on inserting another very obvious self-cameo, just to rub it in that we’re trapped with him for the next 100 minutes.
Image courtesy Universal Pictures
It’s not all bad though; redeeming qualities include the dedicated (if poorly directed) performances from most of the film’s cast and the fun cutaways to the broadcasted plagues occurring in the world outside the cabin. Bautista carries the weight of the whole thing on his massive shoulders, proving the most interesting screen presence and the most deft at working with what he’s given and turning it into something engaging. Kristen Cui is also lovely to watch and any time the camera focused solely on her, I felt more emotionally connected to the story. Groff and Aldridge are perfectly fine as the daddies, whose wholesome family relationship is well-conveyed, and supporting actors Nikki Amuka-Bird and Abby Quinn brought some semblance of substance to their Knocker counterparts. If the glaring omission of Rupert Grint seems harsh, it’s only out of incredulity that people keep casting him as characters from Massachusetts despite his inability to speak as such (I suspect ginger typecasting is responsible).
Knock At The Cabin can be summed up in the way that Wen’s eggs are served - entirely unpalatable to those who know how they should be cooked but fine for those happy to chew along and dry swallow. It’s difficult to rate a film to which we both responded quite negatively, but I’m going with the teacher-grading-an-essay approach. Is it titled and dated? Check. Is the writer’s name visible? Check. Is this a film that exists in completion and did people receive payment? Check. Knock At The Cabin has a beginning, middle and end, is mostly legible and features actors who are doing the best with what they’ve been given. It entirely ruined K.C. & The Sunshine Band for me, which takes away at least half a star. The final score, we think, is more than generous. ☆☆
Knock At The Cabin is in cinemas now.
