M. Night Shyamalan

Introduction

On August 29, the user "Skoffin" posted a story on kuro5hin.org called The Problem with M. Night Shyamalan. Both that article and the following essay are full of "spoilers", so if there are one or more movies by Night that you haven't seen, don't read either of these yet. Skoffin's thesis is that although Night is well-educated in the art of filmmaking, his stories contain flaws in the form of events that seem contrived or poorly chosen dialogue.

In short, Skoffin is far off base. The validity of his thesis may be debatable but the support he offers for the idea is laughably poor and implies his utter lack of ability to even partially comprehend the deeper meaning of any of Night's films. The author mentions that he's only seen some of the films once. It's very difficult to properly dissect all the merits of any movie on only one viewing, and because of the many layers of style and thematic content of Night's films, dismissing his work after watching it once does a great disservice to both the director and the audience.

Unbreakable

Skoffin first attacks Unbreakable and its ending, especially Elijah's final statement, "They called me Mr. Glass." This he pulls out of context not only of the scene, but the entire movie. The entire statement is, "I should have known because of the kids: They called me Mr. Glass." Skoffin derides the quote as absurd, as if Elijah literally means that being called names by kids is what drove him to super-villainy. That's not at all true. Elijah is referring to the whole collection of comic-book style indicators underlying the lives of himself and David Dunn. He is saying that his destiny should have been obvious to himself much earlier; that he, like the audience, did not pick up on all the classic comic book indications.

Remember Elijah's core belief: that comic books are true in a sense, that they simply exaggerate the stories of real, everyday heroes and villains. Elijah and David are proof of this theory, and the evidence for it exists everywhere throughout the movie. Elijah and David are exact opposites, but tied by a thread (weakness to water), just like comic heroes and their opponents. Elijah is always represented with the color purple; David with Green. Note the symbolism of David's job as a security guard and the imagery of his poncho as a cape. Elijah's first scene as an adult, where he is explaining the illustration in his gallery to the customer, is extremely interesting. His description of typical villain characteristics fits himself exactly, and Night subtly reinforces this by subsequently focusing on Elijah's reflection in the glass (which, on yet another layer, is a great symbolic introduction to "Mr. Glass", and we saw the same thing earlier when he was reflected in the tv screen as a boy).

In both The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, Night does an extraordinary job of building a case for his ultimate conclusion that's so obvious, the audience never sees the forest through the trees. Watch again the scene in The Sixth Sense where Cole finally admits his visions of dead people. He's staring at Malcolm the entire time and describes his affliction in a way that practically hits the audience with a sledgehammer to indicate that he's talking about Malcolm. But the genius of Night is that he's able to hide all this in plain sight. We'll see this same technique later in Signs, as the little girl Bo says, "There's a monster outside my room, can I have a glass of water?" The audience assumes the line is a throwaway, written for humor and cuteness. But ironically, Bo's apparent non-sequitur is exactly the remedy needed for this particular monster.

And Unbreakable has far more to offer than just its comic-book style. Night tempers his moments of secret obviousness with other techniques that tell the story by way of subtle detail. As David walks out of the hospital for the first time, a casual glance leads one to believe it to be a moment of puzzled relief. But look more closely, we see Joseph force his mother's and father's hands together. They hold just long enough for him to turn away, then release their grasp. The attentive viewer has just been given a very poignant look into this family's home life. I find this relationship between David and Audrey to be very moving and I can't help but dig into David's mind as he struggles with his daily depression. Here is a man who could have been a football star and had everything he could want, but he cast all that aside for the sake of a love he no longer feels. I think of the regret and loss that must haunt him daily. And so there's great relief when he learns to make use of those true talents again. His life reacquires its sense of purpose, and his resentment for Audrey dissipates. He's happy, hopeful, and ready to repair his personal life. This is the true triumph of David Dunn in Unbreakable.

Signs

Skoffin's next target in the article is Signs, where he admits seeing the movie only once, and it shows. He is dead wrong about several basic facts of the movie: first, he claims Graham's wife was trapped between cars (it was a car and a tree). Next, he claims the character of Merrill is Graham's oldest son (Merrill is Graham's brother), and third he claims Graham remembers the conversation with his wife after being knocked out by the alien (the alien never touched him; Graham just "zoned out"). None of these details invalidate his argument in itself, but they point to a pattern of sloppy viewing and inattentiveness that brings into question Skoffin's ability to make any sort of scholarly critique.

The first major bone of contention Skoffin has with Signs is the basement scene where Morgan is struggling with asthma. Skoffin apparently only half watched the scene, because he states that Graham cures the asthma by hugging Morgan tightly, shaking him, and yelling at him. Skoffin then derides the scene as unrealistic and ridiculous. Nothing of the sort ever happened, though. Morgan is simply lying in Graham's lap as the father comforts his son. He has his hand lightly on Morgan's chest, guiding him, trying to get him to feel Graham's own breathing pace and calm down. Graham does have a few harsh words but these are directed at God for threatening to take another loved one from him. Mostly Graham's speech is comforting and calming. Ironically, Skoffin prescribes exactly this sort of treatment for an asthma attack, and since it's what the film in fact depicts, he strikes out completely on this criticism.

Next Skoffin attacks the idea of Graham's wife saying "swing away", claiming that it's a ridiculous line and a ludicrous coincidence on which to hang the entire weight of the family's escape from the alien. But the viewer needs to think back to the scene which really gets at the heart of the movie: Graham and Merrill sitting on the couch, discussing the difference between people who see miracles, and those who see only dumb luck. Graham says,

"See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?"

Signs isn't just the story of a guy who regains his faith because a good thing happens, or because his family stuck together to make it through a crisis. Graham is the recipient of incontrovertible proof that God exists and has guided every single aspect of the Hess family to get them through this pivotal day in human history. That is no small thing. It's not something that hinges merely on Merrill's batting record; it includes Bo's water hangups, Morgan's asthma, even Colleen's death. Colleen and Dr. Reddy both state their belief that the crash must have been meant to be; if Reddy had fallen asleep at any other point in his drive, Colleen would be fine.

As for the exact choice of words "swing away", Colleen meant them to be inspirational. Note the other bits of advice: Tell Morgan to keep playing, tell Bo that Morgan will watch out for her, and most importantly, tell Graham "to see". See what? Miracles, not dumb luck. See the plan of God in their lives. And finally, Merrill, forget about that strikeout record. I know you felt it was wrong not to swing, so always do what you think is right. "Swing away."

While I'm on the subject of Signs, I'll address a couple of other points that some critics have made about the aliens. The first is, if these creatures are smart enough to travel across the galaxy, why can't they operate a doorknob? The answer is simple: they can. Every situation where they're blocked by a door also includes an additional brace against that door. In Dr. Reddy's house, the alien is locked in the pantry, and the door is blocked by a large table and some chairs. It's also not hard to imagine that the pantry may not have an inner doorknob. And when the Hess family is hiding in the basement, the creatures try to force the door open and they even turn the knob, but Graham and Merrill use their body weight and a pick-axe to hold it shut. After their initial attempt, the aliens no longer try to force the door open; they merely make noises to distract the family from their bid to enter through the coal chute. So it's not at all far-fetched that doors hold the creatures back, especially since they don't seem to be physically very strong. Morgan's book even suggests their advanced brains would reduce the need for physical strength. And other than some menacing posturing, the alien in the living room puts up very little resistance to Merrill's baseball bat attack.

The other major point that critics of Signs try to make is that no intelligent beings would invade a planet with so much water if they themselves were susceptible to it. The answer to this is two-fold. First, a radio playing in the basement the next morning features a caller who insists that the creatures "weren't here for our planet... they were here for us." So the aliens were on a hunt of sorts, and it ought to be plainly obvious that if you want to catch a human, you have to go to where the humans live, no matter how treacherous the territory. Some extremely misguided critics have claimed the water vapor present in normal air should have destroyed the aliens sooner, which is silly. It's a matter of quantity and concentration. Think of all the substances we humans consume on a daily basis that would be toxic in greater amounts. We sprinkle salt on all our food, but eat a pound of it at once and you'll be dead. Our drinks are laced with caffeine, a deadly poison in amounts of just a few grams, and yet we feed it to our children with few reservations. The alien skin probably operates similar to the way our liver processes alcohol: able to handle or perhaps even thrive on small amounts at a slow rate, but easily overwhelmed by overexposure.

The second part of the answer is that these critics are making a major mistake in trying to ascribe human rationality onto these alien beings. They're aliens, which means they are different. Just because they're humanoid in shape doesn't mean they adhere to some arbitrary human ideas about rationality and philosophy. So while these aliens could conceivably have created some protective suits, perhaps they have religious beliefs that forbid it. Or maybe they subscribe to some "warrior code" that would bring them shame for using too great an advantage against their adversaries. Perhaps they're like the creature from Predator that takes great satisfaction in the challenge of the hunt, or maybe alien environmentalists and animal ethicists have declared it illegal to capture lowly humans without giving them a fighting chance for survival. Hell, we don't even know for sure that the creatures we see really are smart enough for intergalactic travel; maybe these are just an inferior, subservient class of alien bred to be foot soldiers for the more intelligent race that stays in the mother ship. Perhaps it's more cost-effective for them to send 20 of these pawns than to send one water-resistant super-soldier. Decisions based on economics often appear to fly in the face of ordinary reason.

And any one of these explanations is just as plausible as any other, because we're talking about a completely alien race about which we know virtually nothing. So please, drop the anthropomorphism and accept that whatever motive these things had for acting as they did is irrelevant to the story of Graham's realization of the power and miracles of God.

The Village

Okay, back to Skoffin and his next target, this year's The Village (In the interest of full disclosure, I myself have only seen the film once, so my defense may not be complete. But I intend to see it again soon and may amend this essay if prudent). Skoffin is obviously very disappointed that the apparently supernatural and evil monsters in the film turn out to be harmless disguises. He expresses deep resentment at seeing the creatures "defanged" and wishes for "monsters just for monsters' sake." Ridiculous. Shyamalan has thrown a bit of a twist at his audience: instead of incorporating more supernatural elements like his previous films, this one is entirely earthly. The author's essay concludes by wishing Night would "break free of his storywriting style"; well, here's somewhere that he did, and Skoffin wasn't happy.

Skoffin also attacks the ending of The Village, equating the revelation of its modern-day setting with the end of Monty Python and the Holy Grail where police officers arrest the knights. This is absurd and completely misses the point of the characters' lifetime struggles. The Village HAS to be set in modern times; if not, the audience can't feel the same connection with the heartache of the Elders. Think about the strength of will they must possess to stick with their settlement through the difficult times. Think of the tremendous sacrifices they make every time they lose a loved one to some illness that would be trivial to cure with modern medicine. If the Elders didn't have the option to give up their life of hardship for modern marvels that would save their children, then the magnitude of their courage and fortitude is deeply undermined. We can appreciate the plights of early pioneers, but they didn't have a choice in the matter. These Elders, however, have to make the conscious decision on a regular basis to maintain their way of life at the expense of those they hold dear. Whether we agree with their choice or not, the implications of their emotional struggle are powerful indeed.

So sorry, Skoffin, the story of The Village is not about fighting monsters in the woods. It's about learning that you can't run away from hardships and heartaches. As August Nicholson says, the Elders know now that those things are a part of life. Ivy represents to them their original intentions: to run towards hope. To seek out that glimmer of great things and work feverishly to attain it, no matter what the cost. Skoffin laments that "'The Village' amounts to a sitcom where everything is back to normal at the end. Nothing is changed, no character is developed and the logic behind it all is amazingly flawed." But he is entirely wrong: the Elders have undergone a great shift in their attitude about the purpose of their settlement. And while they will be maintaining the illusion of "Those We Don't Speak Of" for the time being, it is clear that the ruse cannot last. Eventually the secret must be passed to a new generation, Ivy's generation, and it will be up to them to make their own decision about how to seek hope in their lives. The beauty of The Village's ending is that it's not an ending at all; it's a beginning.

And that, I think, is one of the characteristic elements of Night's work that I enjoy so much. The part of the story that we see captured in his films is actually only a small fraction of the beginning of the tale, which can then continue on in our minds eye to new and interesting places. The Sixth Sense passes the torch of counselor from Malcolm to Cole, who we can imagine going on to help countless lost souls find their peace. In Unbreakable, David Dunn will be lending a hand to other victims, using his talents to set wrongs right. Graham of Signs returns to the priesthood with renewed belief and desire to help others see miracles as he sees them. These and The Village all offer this same sense of hope in better days and great things to come. This is the true message of M. Night Shyamalan.