There is a point in every man’s soul that no one can reach. There are your fears, your most irrational neuroses, your most unpublishable opinions, all wrapped up in a claustrophobic fog in which vanities and other sins, small and large, never come to the surface.
Monsters can be much more didactic than centuries of philosophy, but what is not understood, at least not with the necessary wealth of details, is how we can resist the enemies that we ourselves feed, increasingly fearless, eager to take the which they consider to be rightfully theirs, since our destiny seems to have ceased to interest us.
“Wer” contains many insightful insinuations between the lines about the intimacy of each person with themselves, which does not always hold good surprises. Without fear of exposing his taste for the subject, William Brent Bell inserts points into the terror of a bloody story that evoke reflection from any type of viewer, even if it stretches the line of abjection a little. Its script, written with Matthew Peterman, emphasizes the bestial nature of a subject apparently incapable of answering for his behavior, but little by little it leads those watching in the opposite direction, making use of a character that is almost invisible at first.
From what he presented in “Daughter of Evil” (2012), his previous feature, Bell evolved. Henry Porter, the wealthy American played by Brian Johnson, takes his wife, Claire, and their son, Peter, to spend the holidays in a small town on the outskirts of Paris. Everything goes like gold on blue, until Oscar, the family’s golden retriever, barks in despair and heads into the woods that flank the land.
The dog doesn’t return, Peter, by Oaklee Pendergast, goes after him, followed by Henry, and then Claire’s screams signal that something tragic has happened. The agile editing, by the director, Robert Komatsu and Tim Mirkovich, prolongs the suspense just right, and in the next scene Claire, the only survivor, appears in a hospital bed, giving a statement to detective Klaus Pistor, by Sebastian Roché.
Those who watch it are left a bit cheap amidst the profusion of information that is already circulating on television news all over the world, in an unnecessary jumble of voices, but despite being motionless and speaking only the essentials, Stephanie Lemelin tries to save Bell’s good intentions, taking the film to two the following acts, when the terror emerges.
Bell works on the disturbing concept of a bad monster and a good monster, with Talan Gwynek, a 7-foot-tall colossus, responding as accused of the crime, and Gavin Flemyng, a squalid geneticist, investigating a possible case of porphyria, the anomaly that it would have transformed Gwynek into a werewolf like the one in medieval tales. Brian Scott O’Connor and Simon Quarterman star in the best scene of the film, at the end, corroborating the original intention of the plot, the well-worn (but true) “appearances can be deceiving”. But not always.
Direction: William Brent Bell