1408 / Dustin Rowles
Film Reviews | June 22, 2007 | Comments (124)
He’s done it, folks. John Cusack has finally redeemed himself for the sin of Identity, a damn nice little whodunit released in 2003 that squandered all the suspense it manufactured by providing, in my estimation, the all-time most disappointing movie ending, a copout that was no more satisfying than yanking grundel hairs before a date so that they won’t get caught in your girlfriend’s abstinence ring. And Cusack has done it with a film that’s being mislabeled as a horror movie — there’s no blood or guts here. There’s no mutilation, no poking, piercing, or filleting. Indeed, there’s nothing horrific about 1408. It’s not a horror movie, folks; it’s a fucking scary movie. It’s a crawl up in your seat, hide from the projector screen, and lose-your-shit freak-out that, for the first time in as long as I can remember (Poltergeist, when I was 9?) had me silently pleading for my Mommy.
So, let’s “Encyclopedia Brown this bitch.” Based on a Stephen King short story, the movie concerns Mike Enslin (Cusack), a writer who travels the country to visit locales noted for their haunted nature. Only, in all the years that Enslin has been doing so, he’s never seen anything unusual. He’s a burned-out, atheistic skeptic — another one of King’s typical non-believers destined to get his comeuppance. The origins of that comeuppance come in the form of an anonymous post card he receives warning him not to stay in Room 1408 in the Dolphin Hotel, which is exactly what he plans to do. It will make a nice final chapter, he reckons, for his next book, Haunted Hotel Rooms.
The manager of the Dolphin, Gerald Olin (Sam Jackson, in a small but effective role), doesn’t want Enslin staying in the room, which — since 1912 — has been the final resting place for 56 guests, many of whom have met grisly, self-inflicted deaths and others, untimely natural ones. Olin closed the room to the public in the 70s, but because of some manufactured loophole in a civil rights law, he’s forced to allow Enslin to occupy 1408, though he ominously warns him that no one has ever survived an entire hour. It’s not phantoms or specters, he says, it’s just an “evil fucking room.”
No fucking shit.
For the first few minutes, things seem normal, ordinary. “Some smartass said something about the banality of evil,” Enslin remarks into his tape recorder. “And if that’s so, this is the seventh circle of hell.” But, then Karen Carpenter chimes up from the clock/radio as it counts down from 60:00, and I swear to you folks, “We’ve Only Just Begun,” will never sound the same to you again. Who the hell knew that song could sound so goddamn creepy? I don’t want to say much about what happens in the room, though even if I’d wanted to, it’d be impossible to spoil it. It’s not what happens inasmuch as it is the experience of watching it unfold. It’s got a creepy phone operator. The weather changes. The Carpenters continue to taunt Enslin. His dead daughter makes frequent visits. And, of course, there’s that pervasive sense of dread that permeates the hotel room and keeps the audience tense, uncomfortable, and freaked the hell out.
For the willing, it’s easy to give into the claustrophobic terror of Room 1408. I attended a midnight screening, by myself, and I had to remind myself on occasion that it was only a movie. I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but once, in fact, I got up and left the theater briefly, just so that I could temporarily break my suspension of disbelief and rescue my sanity. Credit the excellent job of the director (Mikael Hafstrom , who redeems himself, too, after the awful Derailed) for not feeling the need to throw in a lot of unnecessary gore; the disturbing and unnerving imagery does the job just fine. But, the real success of 1408 is the pitch-perfect casting of Cusack — he’s convincing, in part, because it’s so unusual to see the normally mild-mannered, unusually detached Lloyd Dobbler completely lose his freakin’ mind. The plot developments probably won’t satisfy everyone (there was even a few brief moments when it seemed as though 1408 would veer off into Identity-copout territory), but I can almost guarantee that, if you allow it, something in Room 1408 will scare the living hell out of you, even if you aren’t ultimately pleased with the film’s logic or with its ultimate conclusion — undeniably, the film’s scare tactics are better than its narrative arc.
I’m not normally a fan of scary movies, mostly because I never find them scary. Double that notion for adaptations of Stephen King’s horror novels, which — with few exceptions (The Shining, maybe Misery) — rarely capture the psychological torment of King’s storytelling abilities. I’ve jumped, recoiled, and felt the tension of suspense, but not since I was young enough not to be able to make the distinction between a movie and reality have I so thoroughly bought into the fear of watching a terrifying film. Indeed, 1408 would have The Blair Witch quaking under her goddamn theater seat.
And here’s a fun idea: If you go see 1408 (and I definitely recommend it), attend a midnight screening with friends. And before you go in, surreptitiously cue The Carpenters’ “We’ve Only Just Begun,” to play as soon as you step back into your car and turn on the ignition. It’s damn near guaranteed to frighten the bejesus out of a few unsuspecting passengers.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba. He lives with his wife in Ithaca, New York. You may email him, or leave a comment below.
Comments
Posted by: Robert at June 22, 2007 12:43 PM
Awesome! I'm seeing this tonight and cannot wait, now that you've confirmed that they made the story rise above the source material by not relying on self mutilating and stripping portraits solely for shock value.
I do, however, take issue with this:
"And Cusack has done it with a film that's being mislabeled as a horror movie -- there's no blood or guts here. There's no mutilation, no poking, piercing, or filleting. Indeed, there's nothing horrific about 1408. It's not a horror movie, folks; it's a fucking scary movie. It's a crawl up in your seat, hide from the projector screen, and lose-your-shit freak-out that, for the first time in as long as I can remember (Poltergeist, when I was 9?) had me silently pleading for my Mommy."
Yeah, ummm...horror movies don't require any of the things you listed to claim 1408 rises above them to be considered horror movies. Rosemary's Baby, The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane, The Omen, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, and countless other fantastic horror films do not rely on these tactics to be scary. In fact, it's because horror went in this direction recently that it seems to have less of an impact.
Give me a Bette Davis going psycho any day over buckets of blood and castrations.