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How many times have you experienced a film that you felt told you nothing, only for it to wiggle its way into your brain and keep nagging at you? Is it our mind building something out of nothing, or were we even listening the first time? That is more or less my reaction to this weird, atmospheric, little thriller from 2020.
The Empty Man follows James Lasombra (James Badge Dale) a former detective-turned-security salesman that is still reeling in from the death of his wife and son a year earlier. When the daughter of a neighbor goes missing, James uses his investigation skills to try to find her, only to be led to a mysterious cult that follows the titular entity, whatever it is.
But although that synopsis might seem fairly straightforward, the truth is that the film takes a series of weird turns to get there, starting with a 20-minute opening sequence set in 90's Bhutan, and going through a series of setpieces that seem to have no payoff, or just leave you guessing why are they happening in the first place. When James asks one of the cult members about their business with the above exchange, is he really listening? Are we?
But putting aside the story, The Empty Man is a pretty competent thriller; at least more than its title, appearance, and marketing might led you to believe. James Badge Dale is a competent lead that is helped by solid supporting turns, especially Stephen Root as Arthur Parsons, the charismatic leader of the cult. But also, David Prior's direction is effective in transmitting a certain atmosphere and a sense of uneasiness around everything.
It's been almost a month since I saw it, and the story still feels like a bit of a mess whenever I try to connect the dots of everything that happens. At times it seems like a mish-mash of contrivances, pseudo-philosophical mumbo jumbo, and convoluted roundabouts, and yet, it keeps calling to me.
At one point, Parsons questions the nature of Nietzsche's quote about the "abyss staring back at you" and how when we really think about it, something in us must be calling for that "abyss"; a seemingly empty void that still keeps pulling us, much like this film. Are we listening?
Grade:
THE EMPTY MAN
(2020, Prior)
A film from 2020
(2020, Prior)
A film from 2020
"You're not telling me anything."
"I am telling you. You're just not listening."
"I am telling you. You're just not listening."
How many times have you experienced a film that you felt told you nothing, only for it to wiggle its way into your brain and keep nagging at you? Is it our mind building something out of nothing, or were we even listening the first time? That is more or less my reaction to this weird, atmospheric, little thriller from 2020.
The Empty Man follows James Lasombra (James Badge Dale) a former detective-turned-security salesman that is still reeling in from the death of his wife and son a year earlier. When the daughter of a neighbor goes missing, James uses his investigation skills to try to find her, only to be led to a mysterious cult that follows the titular entity, whatever it is.
But although that synopsis might seem fairly straightforward, the truth is that the film takes a series of weird turns to get there, starting with a 20-minute opening sequence set in 90's Bhutan, and going through a series of setpieces that seem to have no payoff, or just leave you guessing why are they happening in the first place. When James asks one of the cult members about their business with the above exchange, is he really listening? Are we?
But putting aside the story, The Empty Man is a pretty competent thriller; at least more than its title, appearance, and marketing might led you to believe. James Badge Dale is a competent lead that is helped by solid supporting turns, especially Stephen Root as Arthur Parsons, the charismatic leader of the cult. But also, David Prior's direction is effective in transmitting a certain atmosphere and a sense of uneasiness around everything.
It's been almost a month since I saw it, and the story still feels like a bit of a mess whenever I try to connect the dots of everything that happens. At times it seems like a mish-mash of contrivances, pseudo-philosophical mumbo jumbo, and convoluted roundabouts, and yet, it keeps calling to me.
At one point, Parsons questions the nature of Nietzsche's quote about the "abyss staring back at you" and how when we really think about it, something in us must be calling for that "abyss"; a seemingly empty void that still keeps pulling us, much like this film. Are we listening?
Grade: