PANIC ROOM: Somewhat Undercooked Potboiler

David Fincher has accustomed us – the viewers – to the cinema of mystery, a cinema that exposes our dark secrets, bringing to light the most primal instincts deeply rooted in the human subconscious. Equally important, he does so in an extremely attractive way both narratively and visually; sometimes shocking, but almost always surprising the viewer with unconventional solutions, playing with subtexts and quotes. Already in the third part of Alien, he brought a fresh breeze into the stiff narrative style, which allowed it to exist in the minds of viewers more as Fincher’s first significant film than just another installment in a sci-fi saga. Meanwhile, Panic Room seems pale when compared to his previous works. Although it fits into a trend that Fincher has consistently followed since the very beginning of his Hollywood career, and the actors have been just as carefully chosen, it lacks the nerve, the tension that made films like Seven or The Game so gripping. Panic Room definitely leans toward the banal thriller, like the dozens of films produced every year in the City of Angels.

Meg Altman (Jodie Foster) is the ex-wife of a pharmaceutical magnate. After the divorce, she moves into a large, 150-year-old townhouse in Manhattan with her daughter. The house is beautiful, expensive, and equipped with the latest security devices, which all converge in one point – an isolated steel-caged room – the titular panic room. The first night in the new apartment for Meg and her diabetic daughter does not end well. Shortly after they go to bed, three burglars led by the slightly crazy Junior (Jared Leto) appear in the house. The burglars are convinced that $3 million is hidden in a safe in the house. After a brief escape from the criminals, Meg and her daughter manage to get into the panic room. The problem arises when it turns out that what the burglars are looking for is indeed in that room.

The opening credits of the film make an extraordinary impression. Undoubtedly, they are some of the most creative ever made. The titles, perfectly integrated into the Manhattan skyline, promise a visually interesting film. And indeed, they deliver. The cinematography by two excellent operators – Conrad W. Hall Jr. (Sleepy Hollow) and Darius Khondji (Seven, The Ninth Gate) – is perhaps the strongest point of this rather mediocre thriller. Particularly the burglary scene, when the camera follows Burnham’s (Forest Whitaker) movements inside the house, passing through walls and ceilings, sliding along objects and floors, makes the viewer feel the atmosphere typically expected in Fincher’s films like Seven.

Unfortunately, after that, it’s downhill. What is most painful – the characters, which Fincher usually sketches so perfectly, are here replaced by a gallery of questionable individuals that seem to have been pulled out of the catalog of some agency, used by every second producer of Hollywood trash. Let’s briefly examine our heroes. First, Meg. Still a young, attractive woman who left her husband, even though she still seems to be in love with him. She struggled with the separation, as evidenced by scenes where she reaches the bottom of a bottle of red wine.

One would think that with an actress like Jodie Foster, we could expect a remarkable performance. Nothing could be further from the truth. Jodie has nothing to play. Essentially, only a few opening scenes – those that set up the plot – allow for a deeper exploration of this character. The rest of the time, the actress either spends it in the panic room or chasing after the criminals barefoot. It’s worth noting that she’s running around in an exceptionally low-cut top (which was torn off her while she was asleep) and there are moments when this successfully diverts attention from the progression of the plot.

Next issue – the three burglars – Junior, Burnham, and the masked Raoul – are a textbook example of a clichéd approach to character creation. Junior – the former caretaker of the townhouse – is a somewhat dim-witted, reckless character whose actions cause parts of the film, up to the first turning point, to become somewhat comical. It was mainly due to him that I sat surprised in front of the screen and couldn’t believe I was watching a Fincher film. On the other end of the spectrum is Raoul (Dwight Yoakam) – a psychopath with clear sadistic tendencies, who will become the cause of the most dramatic events in the house. Somewhere in between them stands Burnham, played by the excellent actor Forest Whitaker – a bandit out of necessity, a crook with a heart of gold, who needs the money to pay for alimony. Do we need anything more? The supporting roles, especially one – Meg’s husband, Stephen Altman (Patrick Bauchau), are a true curiosity – he appears just to be beaten and bleed. It’s heartbreaking.

However, one could forgive the film for the lack of outstanding performances, as long as it was compensated by an excellent script and a multilayered plot. Unfortunately, this is also where the viewer faces a serious disappointment – the story presented by the creators, besides a few small exceptions, is devoid of tension and painfully (yes, painfully) predictable. And I probably don’t need to say that in the case of Fincher’s previous works, the element of surprise was an inseparable, almost trademark feature. Despite an interesting premise serving as the foundation for the plot, its development and ending, combined with the lack of credible characters in the drama, made Panic Room fail to draw the viewer into its world. What could a master like Polanski, who has often proven with his films that isolation is a theme he’s comfortable with, have done with such a premise remains a matter of speculation. Interestingly, in Panic Room, there are at least a few quotes or borrowings from other films set in abandoned or isolated buildings – for example, Die Hard or The Shining.

Undoubtedly, David Fincher is an excellent director who knows how to guide his actors perfectly, as he has proven many times with films like Seven, The Game, or Fight Club. However, in my memory, Panic Room will remain memorable thanks to three elements worth remembering: the great opening credits, top-notch cinematography, and Jodie Foster.