VACANCY Explained: An Excellent Exercise in Suspense

The plot itself wasn’t extraordinary, though such a simple starting idea was perfect to turn the film into a skillful exercise in building tension and horror. Aja handled this task adequately, at times attacking the viewer’s senses in unexpected and highly desired ways, but the overall impression left a sense of being too mechanical to actually frighten the undersigned (his best film still remains The Hills Have Eyes). Nevertheless, during the screening, I was reminded of another thriller, equally small, closed, and based on a limited number of characters, but surpassing Aja’s film in terms of execution and the feeling of terror. That film is Vacancy, directed by Nimród Antal in 2007.

The plot couldn’t be simpler – during a night drive through unfamiliar terrain, a couple first loses their way and then their car breaks down. Forced to spend the night in a somewhat hidden motel, they are initially frightened by loud banging on their room door (by persistent, though invisible, individuals). However, true terror arrives when they watch video tapes found in the motel, discovering that the recorded murder scenes are real and all occurred in the room they are currently occupying. Soon, they are attacked by masked people with knives.

The script of Vacancy is by no means groundbreaking, particularly surprising, or thought-provoking. It’s simply a straightforward story built around a situation of danger and the couple’s repeated attempts to escape from the murderers lurking around them. The film lasts a modest 85 minutes, though if we subtract the opening and closing credits, I’m not sure if the film would be shorter by a good 10 minutes. Still, even the opening credits, clearly inspired by classic works of Saul Bass, especially Psycho, have an aggressive energy, enhanced by Paul Haslinger’s nervous musical motif. Ultimately, the opening credits, presented in various configurations, form a tight maze, suggesting a trap even before we meet the main characters.

When we later see them in the car, we are provided with complete information about them, often through the unconventional placement of characters within the frame. The Foxes seem tired from the trip, but perhaps even more so from each other. He, with the face of the average Luke Wilson, cannot finish a conversation without making a jab at his wife, while she stuns him with grim glances and resignation, not resembling Kate Beckinsale playing her. Their faces are often filmed separately or separated by some element of the scenery or even the lighting – Andrzej Sekuła’s cinematography brings to the surface the fact that the Fox marriage is illusory, which will be confirmed by a later dialogue about the inevitable divorce and the information about what led to the breakdown of their relationship. And these protagonists soon find themselves at a motel, which seems to be a relic of past, better times, merely pretending to be a place where tired travelers can rest.

The filmmakers know their audience inside out, so they don’t even try to hide the dubious nature of the titular establishment; rather, they emphasize it. The motel manager (a very good Frank Whaley) has a rat-like appearance, and his seemingly friendly demeanor hides a dislike for his only guests, though this can be explained by the late hour and fatigue. What is he tired of? Perhaps watching films in his office, where the characters scream as if they are being murdered. The room the Foxes end up in hasn’t probably been cleaned in years, as evidenced by a large cockroach and a newspaper from a decade ago. And then there’s the video, strangely fitting for the place, but so outdated in the 21st century. Even viewers who wouldn’t know where the plot is heading could easily guess that the Foxes should have stayed in their broken car rather than check into this motel. From the moment they discover they have become prey, the film accelerates and doesn’t let go until the very end, and Mark L. Smith’s script (co-author of the later The Revenant and Overlord) adds more thrills, though not going beyond the bounds of B-movie cinema.

But that doesn’t mean the direction is secondary. What Vacancy surprises with the most is Antal’s incredible craftsmanship, as he masterfully builds tension, relying more on the elegant art of suspense than on the torture porn trend dominant in the decade. The script itself provides the basis to turn this story into something closer to Hostel or Saw – the idea that future victims are scared before the attack by watching snuff films where they see real death serves the thinking in terms of nihilistic and bloody entertainment – but the Hungarian director is definitely more a student of Alfred Hitchcock than a colleague of Eli Roth.

Each scene is carefully thought out in terms of execution and how it affects the viewer’s imagination and nerves, making it easy for the viewer to empathize with the hopeless situation of the main characters. Inducing fear in them through forced viewing of authentic horrors translates to fear in the viewer, who essentially does the same thing as they do. Smith’s text doesn’t aim to stop and reflect on the purpose of the murderers’ actions, nor does it hold them accountable for the work they do as filmmakers (even though, in a way, they are). One could have ventured into a reflection on the need for the horror genre, but perhaps this is why Vacancy is so good – because it doesn’t pretend to be anything deeper than it actually is.

Born and raised in the United States, but educated in film in Hungary, Antal became known as the director of the very popular Kontroll, where he combined genre juggling with social commentary, wrapping it all in allegorical frames. In the case of Vacancy, his first American film, he focused on an excellent understanding of genre requirements, creating a work not as original as his previous one but extremely effective and surprisingly stylish. It wasn’t a hit, but Antal was later chosen to direct Predators (the one with Adrien Brody), with which he also did a really good job. After that, things varied. First, there was that strange Metallica concert film, and not so long ago, The Hungarian Job, a fact-based story about a bank robber, which was well received at many festivals.

Antal, like Aja mentioned earlier, is skilled enough to turn even a seemingly insignificant material like Vacancy into a horror film that surpasses most louder and heavily promoted horrors in quality. He doesn’t need gallons of blood or special effects, nor does he rely solely on jump scares or fancy narration. Instead, he proves himself to be a first-rate stylist, a bit in the spirit of John Carpenter, where minimalism is a strength. A dirty, old motel where people are murdered after hours might not seem interesting from the outside, but once you cross its threshold, it turns out to be a place brimming with cinematic life.