Ah, the lives of rich eccentrics! With plenty of expendable capital, they’re free to do such strange things as build secret steel-clad “panic rooms” designed to protect them just in case their Upper West Side “townstones” are ever invaded. Not only does this provide some measure of security to these senile financiers, but it also serves as a fantastically convenient plot device in the new movie Panic Room.
But what happens after the rich eccentric dies and the house is put up for sale? Well, things go horribly awry, of course. Meg Altman, played by Jodie Foster, recently divorced from her pharmaceutical magnate husband, moves into the aforementioned four-story New York manse with her young daughter, Sarah (Kristen Stewart).
Unfortunately for Foster, they move in a day too soon. On their first night in the house, a trio of hoodlums burgles the house in search of a tremendous hoard left behind by the aforementioned wealthy eccentric. His ne’er-do-well grandson, Junior (a hideously cornrowed Jared Leto), is their de facto leader, initially discovering the secret hidden inside the panic room.
However, he is neither the brains nor the conscience of the group. This falls to ultimate badass Forest Whitaker, who manages to maintain his ultimate badassness as the burglar with a heart of gold. He plays Burnham, an haggard employee of a security firm in for one last score. He’s expecting no trouble at all from this job?just a big payoff.
Dwight Yoakam completes the triumvirate with his portrayal of the enigmatic Raoul. Reminiscent of the psychotic Mr. Blonde in Reservoir Dogs or the hotheaded Sonny Corleone, Raoul’s the only one to bring a gun to the job, and it soon become clear he’s itching to use it.
Quickly, the Altmans are trapped inside the hidden room, lit with flickering fluorescent tubes. Soon, this siege of sorts turns into a devilishly high-stakes game. Rules are quickly established, but Burnham is the only one to realize they must be followed. His other two accomplices are much too impatient, and from there the plot unfolds.
David Koepp’s script is mercifully lean, managing to draw creatively on elements from tired heist-movie formulas and overwrought hostage scenarios. Favoring the rapid-fire wit of David Mamet over the now-tired Tarantino-esque chattering that has recently become crime-movie clich?, nary a moment elapses that fails to advance or foreshadow the plot. In a film as plot-driven as Panic Room, this is a welcome relief.
Ironically, though, Panic Room’s greatest weakness is its overreliance on plot twists. For example, when a stalemate threatens to stop the film in the midst of the action, it is revealed a certain pre-existing problem exists that must lure the Altmans from inside the room. Convenient, yes; convincing, no.
The film’s refreshing self-awareness helps combat the sometimes gaping plot holes. When the tables turn late in the movie, Foster’s Altman makes a move so obvious even the most oblivious audience members were left wondering why it had taken so long to figure out. Koepp deflates this particular hole adeptly: “Why didn’t we think of that,” laments Raoul from inside the panic room.
Thankfully, however, Koepp does not cop on the ending. His characters, narrowly defined but deeply sketched, end up fittingly after the climax, but not so fittingly as to be formulaic. Even afterwards, his craftsmanship pays off; the denouement, like the exposition, is terse yet sublime.
However, Panic Room’s precision is by and large the work of director David Fincher, whose last film, Fight Club, was an over-the-top showcase of his Madonna-video-honed stylistic gimmickry. Panic Room represents a major step for Fincher’s craft, as he establishes a wonderfully complex mood without reaching too far into his bag of tricks. He manages to balance moments of fantastic suspense with, at times, a deft comic touch. In addition, Fincher proves himself a master of pacing, moving the sometimes spotty plot adroitly along.
Certainly, some extraneous elements weaken the experience. A number of lengthy, intricate tracking shots which zoom through the house and into tiny spaces seem to serve little purpose other than to leave the audience wondering, “How’d they get the camera to fit through the handle of that coffee mug?” Since the answer is obviously “computers,” it seems like an unnecessary exercise in this otherwise airtight production.
Ultimately, however, strong performances, particularly from Whitaker, and expert direction make Panic Room one of the most satisfyingly crackling Hollywood thrillers in some time. In fact, perhaps the only thing more entertaining than this movie would be having a panic room all your own. And perhaps someday, if you’re rich and eccentric enough, you can.
