1408 (2007)
Directed by Mikael Håfstrom
***1/4
Daunting
Have you ever had a nightmare that pulled a fast one on you? The surreal narrative was simply playing itself out and then, suddenly, the rules changed and something horrifying slipped in, uninvited and uncontrollable.
1408 presents us with a typical horror-movie set-up, but takes such care with its humanity that its overwhelming, turn-of-the-screw development began to resonate with cosmic significance. It was powerful enough that it made me start thinking: why is it that humans have such a twisted attraction to fear and powerlessness?
Curious
Mike Enslin (John Cusack) is a second-tier writer. He's won a tiny following for his series of nonfiction books, which record his dedication to de-mystifying hotels who claim they're haunted. You see, Enslin doesn't believe in ghosts, the supernatural — or God, for that matter. All this gives him a serious leg up on his niche in the market. While others would be crawling the walls at the thought of staying in the same room where someone died a gruesome death some centuries before, Mike leans back on the bed, talks to his tape recorder, and sleeps peacefully.
All that is about to change. For, as any fan of the scary can tell you, you can see the really frightening part of a ghost story coming a mile away and, strangely, that's part of what makes it so frightening. Atmosphere is the essential ingredient to horror—not surprise, whether it's the shadowy walls of The Sixth Sense, the elaborate backdrops of many classic horror movies, or simply the wind-up in any campfire ghost story. In fact, the more you can develop the sense of the inevitable in a horror story, the more effective you'll be.
Provocative
So when Mike determines to stay in the Dolphin Hotel (in downtown NYC, not some backwoods town), we know he's in for a shocker. Even though the hotel manager (Samuel L. Jackson) puts up quite a fight, Mike soon finds himself alone in room 1408. About an hour later, things start to go haywire.
Horror, like the western and the musical, tends to be a film genre that is easily abused by people with no talent. So I was relieved (is that the right expression) to find everything so well done here. John Cusack is a talented guy, and I never got bored with him for a second. Benoit Delhomme created a wonderful sense of atmosphere with his almost tangible cinematography, and Gabriel Yared took on his first suspense score with aplomb, layering the scenes with a believable, complex otherness. And the plot leaned almost entirely on the power of suggestion, where it could have gone for the cheap shot. It knew how long it could pursue something before it would get goofy. Ultimately, it felt like such a palpable experience that I expected to finish the movie by mopping my forehead with a handkerchief.
The Credibility of Helplessness
Why is it that we as humans are far more attracted by a scary story than by a happy one? Here's what I mean: let's say I told you the first half of a well-written story. Which genre of story would drive you nuts if you only got the first half? — Romantic comedy? War movie? Or some really scary story? I don't know about you, but even though I'm no fan of horror movies, the scary story has a magnetism to it that compels you to know what's going to happen next.
I wish I could give you the definitive answer on why we humans would be more captivated by a tale of horrific loss and oppression than by a story where the character is surprised by joy. Is it because, as fallen humans in a broken world, we find helplessness more convincing than peace? Is it that horror films gain their magnetism because they're treading in scandalous territory by presenting a universe without a God who can overcome the inevitability of evil?
Comments