M. Night Shyamalan peaked with Signs. Wonderfully creepy and magnificently manipulative, it’s a self-consciously old-school scary movie. Even this non-horror fan enjoyed it.
Mel Gibson’s Muted Max performance anchors writer-director Shyamalan’s achingly heavy story. Leading a great cast that includes Shyamalan himself, Mel proves the value of a great star, especially in a film told as much through glances as dialog.
Signs will either give you nightmares or cure them, given how ultimately silly it is. Still, an exquisitely performed and consummately constructed scary movie is a certain cinematic joy.
Finally, a review of Signs shouldn’t end without giving a shout out to Jeff from Jeff, Who Lives at Home, who considered Shyamalan’s magnum opus his guiding light. OK then.
Mel Gibson’s soberly accomplished performance as a fallen Episcopalian priest carries the movie. Recovering from tragedy and faced with unfathomable threats to home and family, he struggles but never capitulates, which is what we expect from great movie-stars. And Mel is a great movie-star. He may be a reprehensible whack-job in real life, but he’s great onscreen.
Joaquin Phoenix also quietly impresses as his laid-back yet studly younger brother.
Rory Culkin and Abigail Breslin prove themselves terrific child stars as Mel’s kids, vital roles both. Just 13 and 8 when the movie was made, they never make a false move.
Three strong supporting players round out the great cast.
One suspects that both Steven Spielberg and Orson Welles would approve of Shyamalan’s magnum opus. Said to idolize the former, M. Night certainly takes Steven’s “Don’t show the shark” lesson to the max, which works here just as it did in Jaws. Of the latter, War of the Worlds is Signs’ obvious antecedent.
Old school — lots of dread without lots of dead.
Crop circles get their Hollywood closeup in Signs.