WASHINGTON — In the new psychological thriller “Split,” innocent victims are held captive by a madman with multiple personalities. No, we’re not talking about the on-screen villain; we’re talking about director M. Night Shyamalan.
The result is a “split” experience for a thriller with a killer premise, committed lead performance and a clever twist, but a tone that is so all over the place that audiences are unsure whether to laugh or scream on the way there. For much of the movie, Shyamalan’s trademark suspense works to chilling effect, but far too often, his other personalities “step into the light” as more comic impulses take over.
Perhaps we fans are to blame for encouraging this genre-bending in “The Visit” (2015). WTOP’s own headline was Grandma’s Humble Pie: How M. Night Shyamalan Got His Groove Back, marking a career comeback that played like a horror-comedy under the found-footage tent of Blumhouse Productions. “Split” is another financial win, the box-office champ two weeks running, but it marks a slight artistic step backward. That’s a tough-love critique, as no one is rooting for M. Night more than this reviewer.
The plot follows three teens, social outcast Casey (Anya Taylor-Joy) and her popular friends Claire (Haley Lu Richardson) and Marcia (Jessica Sula), who are abducted by the disturbed Kevin Wendell Crumb (James McAvoy). Suffering from multiple personalities like Norman Bates (“Psycho”), Crumb alternates between 23 distinct personas, including the obsessive-compulsive Dennis, the feminine Patricia, the childish Hedwig and the fashion-savvy Barry best suited to appear in the outside world.
During routine visits with caring psychiatrist Dr. Karen Fletcher (Betty Buckley), Crumb claims that a 24th personality is about to emerge: a dark, demonic, superhuman creature he calls The Beast. Will Crumb give into this horrific dark side? Or can the young girls escape their twisted captor in time?
It’s easy to see why McAvoy would be attracted to such a role, salivating at the chance to play so many different personalities. Indeed, McAvoy has become one of our most versatile actors, using acclaim in “The Last King of Scotland” (2006) and “Atonement” (2007) to land indie gems such as “The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby” (2014) and blockbuster prequels such as “X-Men” (2011-16).
In “Split,” McAvoy goes for broke, morphing between finicky neatness as Dennis, dainty movements as Patricia and childish musings as Hedwig, where he delivers a low-IQ “et cetera” catchphrase to rival Yul Brynner in “The King and I” (1956). Especially bizarre is his bedroom dance scene that’s as weird as Dean Stockwell in “Blue Velvet” (1986) or Buffalo Bill in “The Silence of the Lambs” (1991).
It’s in these moments — seeing things we shouldn’t be seeing in the monster’s underground lair — that Shyamalan succeeds the most in “Split,” his camera lurking around the corners of dark hallways, peering through cracks in doors for chilling POV shots or tracking voyeuristically past grimy pipes.
Ironically, his best-directed scene happens in broad daylight, as McAvoy abducts the girls in the parking lot of a shopping center in the opening scene. It’s a great example of slow disclosure, building dread from what we can’t see off-frame, as the camera swings in front of the car to see glimpses out of the rear windshield before cutting to glances in the side mirror and hands on the car-door handle.
As this rousing initial sequence cuts to the badass opening credits, we feel like we’re in the hands of a master as splitting text recalls the legendary symbolism of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho” (1960) but with the modern, stalker edge of David Fincher’s serial killer in the opening credits of “Se7en” (1995).
Then, the disappointment gradually sets in. As if an alter-ego taking the directing reins, Shyamalan gives into a series of puzzling tonal shifts, undercutting some genuinely suspenseful moments with open invitations to laughter — some intended, some unintended. While a few dark-comedy moments work — an old woman shouting at a TV game show — there are many more that don’t, namely M. Night’s Hitchcockian cameo, this time as a security-camera operator cracking jokes about Hooters.
Such moments are head-scratching for a serious suspense screenwriter. We know Shyamalan can write; you don’t just randomly come up with “The Sixth Sense” (1999), “Unbreakable” (2000) “Signs” (2002) and “The Village” (2004) without any talent for script structure and audience manipulation.
Like so many of M. Night’s movies, “Split” offers a promising premise and Act Three revelations that pay off the hero’s backstory with a nice, full-circle, humanistic message that personal pain and suffering purifies our souls. Here, the wounded Casey is more alive than her popular peers, just like the haunted Haley Joel Osment was morally superior to the popular kids who locked him in a closet.
This sweet theme would have been enough. Instead, we get the always-anticipated M. Night “twist” that knocks the film down a peg rather than elevating it. By the time The Beast arrives, it changes our expectations of the film’s genre, but in a far more jarring way than the natural climax at the end of “Unbreakable,” where Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson were revealed to be superhero nemeses.
That film was an origin story masterpiece, one that Quentin Tarantino called the greatest superhero movie ever made. To continue that analogy, “Split” offers a Marvel-style post-credits teaser where we realize Shyamalan is actually interested in franchise building. Unfortunately, it feels less like an “oh my god” shock than a cheap button on the end of a movie that can’t decide what genre it wants to be.
Certainly, there are attempts to explain the finale’s supernatural elements. The therapy scenes insert exposition about a blind woman who regained her sight simply because one of her alter-egos could see. It’s possible that McAvoy (sporting a shaved Professor X head) could gain superhuman strength, but when you turn a split-personality psychopath into a superhuman villain, it sort of spoils the fun.
Can you imagine Hitchcock agreeing to turn Norman Bates into Lex Luthor on steroids? He would never allow it. That’s the difference between Hitchcock and Shyamalan. The latter’s brand was most promising as the new Master of Suspense, not the Master of Comics. Aim for Hitch, not Zack Snyder.
If M. Night wants a sustained career comeback, this isn’t the best route to go. It might pay short-term dividends, but his long-term legacy may suffer. Perhaps he decided his brand had already taken as many dings as possible, so they’re just going to come out swinging. Fine, but tread lightly. There’s a fine line between suspense and suspension of disbelief — and that line is far from unbreakable.
