Vacancy

So this is how the career path goes: break out with an international success, accept an invitation to Hollywood, and make your bones as a commercial director in genre fare such as VACANCY.

At least, this is how it's going for Nimród Antal, the Hungarian director of 2003's remarkable KONTROLL. Where KONTROLL was haunting, dreamlike, and rather puzzling, VACANCY is a straightforward horror thriller whose every beat will seem familiar to anyone who has ever seen a picture that begins with someone saying, "Why didn't you stay on the interstate?" That said, VACANCY is a very professional "Don't Get Off The Interstate" horror thriller: a step up from MOTEL HELL, though not in the same league as PSYCHO (which it recalls through clever use of 60's-style opening and closing credits).

Here's the setup: Kate Beckinsale wakes up in the passenger seat of a car driving through the toolies in the middle of the night. She turns to her husband (Luke Wilson, who's been going heavy on the electrolytes) and says, "Why'd you get off the interstate?" Things go downhill from there.

And that's it, really. The rest is in the execution, and it's here that Antal proves himself an able craftsman. He finds novel ways to build and maintain suspense, though we all know what's coming next and who'll still be on two feet when the credits roll. He manages to create suitably creepy villains, alternates well between jump-scares and slow burns, and even manages to work in a bit of subtle comedy. In other words, the guy takes a familiar subgenre out of the garage, puts some gas in the tank, and takes it for a fun spin.

But this is Nimród Antal, the guy behind KONTROLL, we're talking about. Next time, I hope they let him get off the interstate.

Kontroll

KONTROLL begins with a representative from Budapest's subway system, self-consciously reading from a clipboard as he voices his belief that audiences will see the film's depiction of the subway and its denizens as allegorical, rather than literal. Additionally, he states that he was happy to have permitted the film's use of the subway, as the young writer & director, Nimrod Antal, was profoundly concerned with issues of good and evil.

I don't know if that guy is an actor or not, but what a great way to set up a movie. By announcing that it's an allegory about good and evil, the film distances us from an immediacy it might otherwise have. Why is this a good thing? Well, our rational side is willing to overlook a disjointed story, a lack of compelling characters, and the production's unremitting ugliness because it's on the lookout for allegories of good and evil. Rather than reflect that a particular sequence doesn't move the story along or provide any real insight into its participants, it's thinking, "What does this mean?"

Here's the setup: Bulscu (Sandor Csanyi) is the leader of an underdog squad of Kontrollers, ticket checkers on Budapest's honor-system subway. He's smart, attractive, likeable, and sleeps on the floors of deserted platforms in the middle of the night. He appears to have no real home, and he may be a schizophrenic killer. With a setup like that, you'd be right to expect a straight-up thriller. Antal takes his story in a different direction, however, using his premise to examine the lives of people who exist at the fringes of society. It's an interesting experiment, and the conceit gives the shoestring production a thematic justification for looking as scruffy as its characters.

Is it interesting? Yes. Does it make one forget about the passage of time? Yes. Is it good? I'm not sure. I'm still trying to figure out what it means.