I am always excited by a new Brad Anderson film. With the exception of his debut The Machinist, Anderson tends to locate all his narrative action in confined spaces, such as the abandoned asbestos-lined asylum in his best film yet, Session 9, or the train in Transsiberian, and now the bar in Vanishing on 7th Street. It is in this bar, against the backdrop of something apocalyptic, that four characters meet up by chance. There is hot shot Luke (Hayden Christensen); the bereaved mother Rosemary (Thandie Newton); a film projectionist, Paul (John Leguizamo); and a young boy, James (Jacob Latimore), whose mother owns the bar.
Along with countless others, James’s mother disappeared from Detroit on the day the darkness came. As Luke remarks early in the film, each day the sun comes up later and sets a little earlier. The darkness brings death, represented by creeping shadows that crowd along lines of light provided by flashlights, torches and glow-sticks. There is no explanation or even speculation regarding the fates of the disappeared, and just a little bit of talking (that is quickly deviated from) about why these four characters remained. (It is not certain that they are the only remaining people, but they might as well be.) Luke suggests that they need to get out of the city, but why being in the city is more dangerous than outside of it, given that the darkness is everywhere, is unclear.
Indeed, somewhere inside Vanishing on 7th Street is a good triller trying to come out. In this film, Anderson is unable to sustain our interests in what’s happening to the characters in the middle act. After the suspenseful and innovative opening, the film settles into a bit of the rut once all the characters convene in the bar. Once inside the bar, there is much concern, as the characters often indicate, about how long the bar’s power generator is going to last. Then there’s the usual camaraderie among survivors as individual uncertainties and regrets are wrestled with. There is a clever development regarding the fate of a specific character (actually, two characters) but it’s the only highlight in about 40 minutes of material.
Vanishing on 7th Street compromises much of its suspense by incessantly showing the creeping shadows, to the point where it becomes rather ridiculous. If the darkness is dangerous, surely there is much suspense in visual restraint? (Earlier, I reviewed Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, which does the same thing.) The film also has the obligatory one-light-flickering-and-going-off-after-another-in-a-long-corridor scene. Again, Anderson handled a similar scene in Session 9 already, and more effectively so, maybe because the set-up for that ominous film’s story was much more plausible than what we’re shown here. At just under 90 minutes, Vanishing on 7th Street provides a brief diversion for genre aficionados, but it’s Anderson’s weakest film to date.
Along with countless others, James’s mother disappeared from Detroit on the day the darkness came. As Luke remarks early in the film, each day the sun comes up later and sets a little earlier. The darkness brings death, represented by creeping shadows that crowd along lines of light provided by flashlights, torches and glow-sticks. There is no explanation or even speculation regarding the fates of the disappeared, and just a little bit of talking (that is quickly deviated from) about why these four characters remained. (It is not certain that they are the only remaining people, but they might as well be.) Luke suggests that they need to get out of the city, but why being in the city is more dangerous than outside of it, given that the darkness is everywhere, is unclear.
Indeed, somewhere inside Vanishing on 7th Street is a good triller trying to come out. In this film, Anderson is unable to sustain our interests in what’s happening to the characters in the middle act. After the suspenseful and innovative opening, the film settles into a bit of the rut once all the characters convene in the bar. Once inside the bar, there is much concern, as the characters often indicate, about how long the bar’s power generator is going to last. Then there’s the usual camaraderie among survivors as individual uncertainties and regrets are wrestled with. There is a clever development regarding the fate of a specific character (actually, two characters) but it’s the only highlight in about 40 minutes of material.
Vanishing on 7th Street compromises much of its suspense by incessantly showing the creeping shadows, to the point where it becomes rather ridiculous. If the darkness is dangerous, surely there is much suspense in visual restraint? (Earlier, I reviewed Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, which does the same thing.) The film also has the obligatory one-light-flickering-and-going-off-after-another-in-a-long-corridor scene. Again, Anderson handled a similar scene in Session 9 already, and more effectively so, maybe because the set-up for that ominous film’s story was much more plausible than what we’re shown here. At just under 90 minutes, Vanishing on 7th Street provides a brief diversion for genre aficionados, but it’s Anderson’s weakest film to date.
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