The Whisper Man | Official Trailer | Netflix<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\nPOSITIVES<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Despite very little about The Whisper Man finding a unique originality or an undetectable navigational track toward eluding some of the distinguishable tropes of the crime thriller subgenre, there’s still plenty of enticing elements to James Ashcroft’s atmospherically-rich execution that leaves it on the entertainingly endearing side of Netflix’s seemingly endless library of weekly content, offering a tautly constructed detective procedural with enough thrills and unnerving chills to keep audiences invested. Being that Ashcroft is the very same director who helmed thematically hefty films like Coming Home in the Dark and the strangely surreal The Rule of Jenny Pen, it comes as no surprise that his newest also revels in the moodily gloomy outlining of his detectably delicate atmosphere, both with a weathered tapestry and luminous lighting scheme that conveys an ominously definable dread to those conflicted characters, but also the coldly chilling elements of a familial household mourning their own devastating grief, which helps implement so much emotionality and psychology to the weathered pasts of these dynamics, to which the script alludes to, but never spends too much time in hijacking the framed focus away from where it’s so desperately needed, instead remaining faithfully alongside the many advantageous developments of its unraveling investigation, which open the movie up to an unforeseen thematic dissection of familial dynamics, courtesy of a script adapted by Ben Jacoby and Chase Palmer, from the novel of the same name. Like the most rewarding of page-turning mysteries, Jacoby and Palmer appraise immense value towards the inexperienced past events of its characters, as a means of motivational exploring for the present, and while the attainable information certainly helps uncover one breadcrumb to the next, with regards to maintaining eye-level knowledge with those unfortunately investigating it, the most meaningful component to the script easily resides in the familial trauma of its framed protagonists, specifically as a means to maintain a fresh and unrepetitive appeal to the integrity of the material. As a result, we receive far more definition and expansive psychology on these characters than typically utilized in these kinds of movies, but beyond that a reflective glance into the unflinching realities of our own killer-crazed society, which the movie cleverly and concerningly depicts in one character whose life mission is to collect as many crime scene weapons and wardrobes, for the sake of his tastelessly unapologetic household museum. While the creative dexterity of the material will ultimately vary in mileage for all audiences, the performances from such a decorated ensemble feel undebatable, specifically in the mesmerizing turns from Robert De Niro, Adam Scott, and even Michael Keaton, who each cement so much endearing screen presence to their respective characters. Being that Scott is the helpless father succumbing to his own sleepless imagination on the where and what’s of his missing child, he’s obviously tasked with exuding the movie’s most expressive emotionality, a challenge that Scott meets with both unbridled intensity and instability rendering the desperation stemming from so few answers. De Niro’s stoically subdued turn also does more than enough to encompass the air of his intended environment, where as a retired investigator tasked with experiencing the most gruesomely barbaric crimes, maintains a much-needed composure over the proceedings, even when the conversations periodically twist the proverbial knife into his own historical inferiorities as a father, conveying enough lingering regret and determined eagerness to drive the desire in his closures for the character, all the while delivering an evidential resiliency factor against the unresolved aggressions of Scott’s son character, which effortlessly endears him empathetically to the audience as this imperfect protagonist attempting to learn from the errors of his actions. But even as good as Scott and De Niro undoubtedly are at carving out two men who fearlessly tread into some darkly depraved corridors, it’s ultimately Keaton who the movie depends upon when it requires a shot of much-needed adrenaline into its creatively conflicted second half, where his devilish charisma helps construct one of his darker turns since 1998’s Desperate Measures. Keaton most certainly isn’t the Anthony Hopkins version of Hannibal Lecter that Ashcroft so obviously desires of him, but he is remarkably effective at poking and prodding on the insecurities of his anxious adversaries, as a result of his own weaponized limitless knowledge, and considering my favorite scenes throughout the movie pertained to those involving Keaton, he certainly makes the most of his minimized screen allowance, providing another layer-shedding turn from Keaton, whose battle-tested chemistry with De Niro left me yearning for a follow-up prequel pertaining to their characters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
NEGATIVES<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As previously mentioned, there’s an overwhelming essence of familiarity in this story that keeps it limited among some of its genre-best predecessors, such as Se7en, The Silence of the Lambs, or Zodiac, which framed its stories in ways that felt freshly innovative. Part of the problem with the script is certainly in its constant indulgences of ages-old tropes, the likes of which enact some unavoidable conveniences and contrivances in the motivational actions of its characters, but just as many hinderances spawn from an overarching predictability, which resolved the mystery as quickly as the beginning of the movie’s second act, for me, leaving me waiting for the rest of the movie to catch up to my unwelcomely advantageous perspective. On one hand, the script’s glaringly evidential focus and corresponding dissection towards its father and son dynamic driving the movie’s investigation telegraphs the eventual evolutions of some outside characters, with some overly emphasized details about this character during the opening act swept anxiously under the rug of dissipation, but just as much blame pertains to the blundering combination of imagery and editing, which aren’t capable enough to override forced clues from character responses, and with the big reveal landing with the resonance of a fart in a grocery bag, the navigation of the mystery doesn’t feel all-together rewarding, especially considering the motivation for this killer is the lowest hanging piece of fruit on a tree of unoriginal character psychology. In addition to predictability, contrivances and conveniences, the experience is also upended by lackadaisical characterization that requires the assorted ensemble to overreach, in order to appeal towards indulging audiences. While examples can certainly be found in Adam Scott’s character, whose development definitively feels like it’s going through the motions of every grieving parent ever in these kinds of movies, the most offensive material is given to Michelle Monaghan, whose character is merely there simply to just move the material forward at all times. Instead of zeroing in on who she is, or why this case is particularly important to her, she’s ignored egregiously with a complete lack of ignorance in the focus of the narrative, and considering so much of the investigation stems internally from her, as the only active lawman on the case, it’s disappointing that the film isn’t curious in exploring her further, leaving her as this uncompelling third wheel to this protagonist trio, who pales in comparison to something like Hilary Swank’s turn in Christopher Nolan’s Insomnia. Likewise, there’s some unexplained supernatural instances stemming from Jake, the kidnapped child, which is never further explained or elaborated on, as to how or why he’s basically seeing images that don’t fall in the boundaries of reality. It’s one in a variety of excessive arcs throughout the movie that are utilized as nothing more than breadcrumbs to throw audiences off of the trail of such a glaringly predictable mystery, but beyond that further proof of the proverbial padding that occasionally dilutes the movie’s pacing into its second hour, where a good ten minutes could’ve been trimmed in order to surmise a stronger and more urgently enacted narrative experience. Finally, while much of the movie’s technical components help to realize Ashcroft’s atmospherically ambient vision, it isn’t without imperfections, specifically in the instrumental confines of Colin Stetson’s accompanying score, whose drearily drowsy compositions fail to muster any semblance of enticing dimensionality to the accommodating imagery. As expected, Stetson revels in piano-driven themes too redundant to feel diverse, with very little structurally or rhythmically to deviate from one emotionality of the characters to the other, and with the aforementioned inconsistent pacing already testing the patience of its audience, I can see Stetson’s themes weighing heavily on the eyelids of those who choose to watch the movie in the dark, evoking the kind of background noise that nurses them to a tranquil state of somber splendor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
OVERALL
The Whisper Man might be a cliche-heavy and predictably familiar experience to those once engulfed in 90’s crime procedurals, but James Ashcroft’s gloomily moody atmosphere and familial thematic dissection offers enough entertainment value to overcome its transparent mystery, offering another middle-of-the-road addition to the limitless library of Netflix content to be watched once and never again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My Grade: 6.0 or C<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Directed By James Ashcroft Starring – Robert De Niro, Adam Scott, Michelle Monaghan The Plot – When his 8-year-old son is abducted, a widowed crime writer (Scott) looks to his estranged father (De Niro), a retired former police detective, for help, only to discover a connection with the decades-old case of a convicted serial killer […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":9865,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[15,20],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9864"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9864"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9864\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9866,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9864\/revisions\/9866"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9865"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9864"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9864"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thefilmfreak.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9864"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}