Review: The Invisible Man

Image courtesy of Universal Pictures.

Leigh Whannell's "The Invisible Man" is being called a horror movie for the #MeToo moment, and that's certainly an apt description. Merely utilizing the name of H.G. Wells' classic novel, the picture tells the story of an abused woman who lives in fear of her gaslighting, physically abusive and controlling husband - who's hardly seen but the fear he spreads is ever-present - and makes a run for it, only to find that he might still be tormenting her.

It should be mentioned now that Adrian, the abusive husband, is also a scientist who works with "optics" - that's about all of the scientific description we get as to how he made himself invisible - and has developed a means of making a body suit that he wears completely invisible. As the film opens, Cecilia (Elisabeth Moss in a grueling physical performance) has managed to sneak away, packing a small bag and fleeing with her sister, who drops her off at the house of a friend, James (Aldis Hodge) - a cop with a teenage daughter - where she'll stay.

But shortly thereafter, Cecilia gets the surprising news that Adrian has committed suicide, and has left her $5 million, but only on the condition that she is not arrested for any crimes or found to be mentally unstable. This, of course, is the catch, which we soon find out after learning that Adrian has managed to render himself invisible and tortures Cecilia both physically and psychologically, forcing her to question if she's actually experiencing what she thinks she is undergoing.

Like a typical abuser, Adrian's reach is far beyond the walls of the home in which Cecilia feels trapped. He's with her every minute - at least in her head - and he gaslights her to believe she's crazy for recognizing his abusive behavior as such. Not only that, but he's also a talented manipulator who manages to get everyone else to think Cecilia is losing her mind, and that her theories about him still being alive are ridiculous.

As the #MeToo movement began to build in recent years, so many stories came out about women who had suffered various forms of abuse from powerful men - from the psychological to the physical, from sexual harassment to sexual assault - and one common denominator was that many of them were afraid to come forward because they were afraid their stories wouldn't be believed. This is one element that makes "The Invisible Man" pretty powerful for a genre movie and - considering that Harvey Weinstein's case popped back up in the news in recent weeks - timely.

The film is not without its flaws, mostly in the common sense department. For instance, no matter how evil Adrian is - and no matter how possessive - he goes to great lengths to torment Cecilia, from faking his own death and giving away his money to killing a number of people. Despite being a sinister bastard, he's a wealthy and well respected scientist - at least, that's what we're told - so his motivation, other than being possessive of those around him is, perhaps, a little underdeveloped. Also, when Cecilia returns to his house to investigate weeks after his death, his dog is still in the house - no one thought to remove it?

The film is tense, well-shot, visually moody and driven by Moss's committed performance. It's a tough role, and often difficult to watch. Cecilia, who is established early on as an abused woman, is seen being thrown across the room, punched, dragged by her hair and other forms of abuse throughout the picture's two-hour running time. Yes, her abuser is invisible, giving it more of a genre feel to it than a realistic movie about abuse, but still it's often tough to take.

But Whannell and company deserve credit for doing something interesting - and relevant - with the material, rather than just rebooting yet another well-known property. There's certainly enough of that at the multiplex these days, so I'm glad to say "The Invisible Man" takes a unique approach to the material and is, so far, the only horror movie this year - and there have been many already - to really stick the landing.