Panic Room is a simple movie with a simple plot and characters with simple motivations. It is a damsel in distress (Jodie Foster) and monetarily motivated criminals. It should be a game of Candyland--from square one to the Kandy Kastle. However, someone tries to play with monopoly rules. The result? Plumpy Plum eats the gingerbread man and chokes. The catch? Everyone loses.
Plot synopsis: Crazy man hides millions in an impregnable safe room
Wet-Bandit #1: "Crap, they're in the safe room."
Wet-Bandit #2: "Hey, I'm Jared Leto--check out my hot dreads."
Dwight Yoakam: "I'm Raul. I'm gonna cap yo' ass."
Jody Foster: "I'm home alone... wheeeeeeeee!"
She-male: "My mother is unaware of my sexual identity crisis."
Visually stunning, Panic Room's director, David Fincher, can only be called a genius of cinematography. Cunning foreshadowing and camera angles from the most unexpected views--the inside of locks, under the bed--create a sense of foreboding exactly as the characters feel. You are in a dark and unfamiliar house. The characters are scared, they make mistakes and that humanity shines through--as plot gaps.
When it comes to violence, there is no distinction between excessive and realistic. Perhaps the violence conveys a message? There is no message here, no sociological theme. Panic Room burns down the peppermint forest and sinks into the molasses swamp. The climactic ending leaves the viewer no time to recover. It's back to square one--you lose.
This is a typical thriller. Ask yourself; can you handle Jared Leto in dreads?
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