Unbreakable (2000)

WARNING: Major plot elements will be discussed at length -- if you prefer to see the film without knowledge of the plot, do not continue reading!

Unbreakable opens with a haunting scene of subtle power--in essence, the opposite of the title. A woman gives birth to a child, only to be informed that the child's arms and legs were fractured upon delivery. What happened? Was the woman beaten? We soon find out that the child has osteogenesis imperfecta, a protein-deficiency syndrome causing the person's bones to break easily. This child is easily breakable, and is tormented by children at school, teasing him and calling him, "Mr. Glass." The child grows up to be Elijah Price, played with amazing efficiency by Samuel L. Jackson.

The film centers around his relationship with our hero, David Dunn (Bruce Willis, basically reprising his performance from The Sixth Sense). Dunn is introduced on a train, and in a brilliant mix of camerawork and dialogue, Shyamalan establishes the groundwork of his character. With one, uncut four-minute sequence, David tries and fails to pick up on a sports agent sitting next to him. The camera catches David sliding his wedding ring off of his finger and into his pocket. A young girl watches between the seats (are we watching the conversation from her perspective?), and even her reaction to his lame attempt is humorous. Seconds later, the train gathers speed, and the passengers quickly realize something is terribly wrong. David looks out the windows and the background flashes to white. Cut to Joseph Dunn (Spencer Treat Clark), flipping through channels, when he comes across footage of a devastating train wreck. The camera views the footage from his perspective--at first, upside-down (this trick being integral to the plot) and then right-side up. It doesn't take him long to recognize that it is the train his father was on. We never see the accident happen, which, in this day of age of "showing more is better", is a breath of fresh air (not to mention a huge budget-cut).

David awakens in a hospital room. The frame captures doctors working frantically on a patient in the out-of-focus foreground. Blood seeps into the cloth, covering the victim. He is the last victim of the accident. David is the only survivor--and he doesn't have a scratch on him. His wife Audrey (Robin Wright Penn) and Joseph meet him in the hospital corridor. In a great moment of subtlety and authenticity, Joseph places his mother's hand into his father's, and as soon as his back is turned, they let go. Their relationship is obviously on the rocks. Film is primarily a visual medium, and in one simple shot, Shyamalan portrays their current relationship status more effectively than a thousand words could.

Unbreakable is full of moments like this, where even words can not alone express the correct emotion. We find out that they are having problems, both living in separate rooms of their house. Their problems, while not obvious, probably stem from his anger at Audrey for having to give up football for her. He still yearns to play, as in one scene where he stands in the rain watching the players practice. He was never injured, as he said. He just would do anything for Audrey. Years later, his love for Audrey has diminished, and his love for football has returned. David now works as a security guard at the football stadium--a job of protection, which comes into play later in the film.

Elijah Price, meanwhile, is fascinated by the fact that a man emerged unharmed from an accident that killed everyone else. He has been waiting for this man--a man who is unbreakable. One who doesn't get sick, who doesn't get hurt. His theory is: if there is someone like him in the world, someone who gets injured at the slightest fall, couldn't there be someone on the other side of the spectrum? Shyamalan composes a shot of Elijah as a thirteen-year-old, but the image is a reflection in a TV screen. Someone is on the other side of the spectrum--a reversed reflection of Elijah. In the same scene, Elijah gets a gift. Inside the box is a comic book. We again see the comic book from his point of view. Upside-down. As he turns the book around, the camera rotates with it. The camera breaks momentum and continues circling the book, turning it upside-down and back. This is Shyamalan's point in Unbreakable: to take everything we expect from a comic-book film and spin it around..

The question is simple: how many days of your life have you been sick? David can't remember ever being sick, but he logically assumes that he must have been sick at least once in his life. Even his wife has trouble coming up with a specific date. Thanks to an elderly nurse, David does come up with one incident: as a child, he was pushed under water and swallowed some of it. However, Elijah, going on the thought that David is a real-life superhero, states that even your standard comic book hero has some fear. David's is water, like Superman's is Kryptonite, or Batman's is the memory of his parents' murder. As in life, for every aspect, there is always an opposite. No hero is "unbreakable." Each hero has his or her Achilles' heel, the point at which the hero can be slain.

Thematically, the film is more potent than Shyamalan's previous film The Sixth Sense, and so far in 2000, the most thematically-rich film to date. Not only does the film deal with elements of chance and fate, but more interestingly, it deals with man's own unwillingness to come to terms with that fate he has been chosen to lead. How exactly are you supposed to find out why you are put here on this earth? It's not an easy task, and even if you discover the answer, you might be reluctant to venture into that territory. "181 people died on that train so you could finally learn of your destiny," Elijah prophesizes (the line is not in the film, but was quoted throughout the trailers). Suppose a stranger comes to you, hands you a note, and tells you that you are a comic-book superhero incarnate. Most people would accordingly laugh in his face and never talk to them again. However, after surviving a massive train wreck with no physical injuries, David is intrigued by what Elijah has to say. The scene in which Elijah explains his theory is an amazing dissection of the comic book--it's merely an exaggeration of every day life. What if, for instance, Superman wasn't really a flying bullet from another planet, but a normal human with some amazing powers? Going off that, exactly how would Superman know of his powers unless told of them? This is where Unbreakable truly shines. David, living a normal, human life, is pushed out of his routine and normal perception of the human being's abilities. How exactly would you know you could lift 350 pounds when you feel yourself struggling to lift 200 pounds? How would you know if you could take a bullet without causing any serious injuries? In fact, how would you know (in Superman's case) that you could fly? Elijah plays a critical role in David's development--the catalyst for his realization that he is more than he would like to admit.

Perception has much to do with Unbreakable's success. The camera plays a vital role in establishing the mood and letting us in on the story. Each shot is masterfully composed, with some shots requiring multiple and sustained viewings to appreciate the intricacies. Mirrors and reflections are constantly at play, perhaps because mirrors and glass are easily breakable. Or more thoughtfully, as Elijah states in the end, that to every thing, there is an opposite. A completely different version. They look the same, but underneath may lie complete opposites. The camera captures these images with a slow and gracious quality, allowing us to examine each shot. The camerawork (done by cinematographer Eduardo Serra) is eerie and cautious. He never shows too much, and yet you always understand his point. Casually and gradually, the camerawork becomes even more drawn out as David begins to realize his superhero status--each frame shot as a box in a comic book. There's a brilliant shot of David following a suspect in a bright orange outfit. He climbs the stairs and stares through the rain as the man breaks into someone's house. The rain drips from his dark green Security parka, his eyes in shadow. Later in the scene, the breeze flaps through curtains, partially allowing us to view what is inside. One side of the curtain flaps open, we see David. Then the other flaps open, and we see what's caught his attention: a woman, lying tied to a heater. Perhaps one of the greatest shots in the film comes even later in the scene, as David is shoved out the window and off the balcony. He slams onto the ground, his face planted in a puddle of water. He looks up and discovers the horrible truth: he has landed on the tarp covering a swimming pool. It's one of the most suspenseful scenes in the film, as the tarp slides away and sucks David into its grasp.

However, in spite of all these great moments, there are three that stick out from the rest. Three scenes that rise above and present themselves with such bravura and intensity that you can't help notice the power. These are truly great scenes. The first comes when David spots a person in line to enter his football stadium, and tells Elijah that he is carrying a silver handgun with a black handle. After the man exits the line, Elijah follows him, struggling to keep up with the man's pace. Then, in horror, Elijah reaches the top of a long, cement staircase descending to the subway. He has to know the truth, and valiantly starts his awkward climb down the stairs. He falls and tumbles, breaking bones as he goes (the sound of the his bones breaking is cringe-inducing). He lands at the bottom, just in time to see the man hop over the turntable, his camouflage coat lifting enough to show a silver gun with a black handle in his pants. The second scene comes a two-thirds of the way through the film, as David enters a train station. People mill around, and he descends the stairs and wanders into the crowd. The music, by James Newton Howard, is pulsating and rhythmic (Howard's score here is one of his best ever). The camera is relentless as it follows David around. People bump into him, and when one of them is thinking of committing a criminal act, he gets a vision of that act. The camera spins around, capturing the felon running away. This simple two-minute scene combines brilliant storytelling, great acting on Willis' part, split second editing, and a tumultuous soundtrack. But nothing outdoes the final scene of the film. David and Elijah meet in his comic book store for the last time, and they shake hands. Throughout the entire film, neither of them have touched. They shake, and David gets the plot-twisting vision: Elijah is his arch-nemesis. He caused the three disasters that he keeps mentioning throughout the film. He caused the plane to crash, he started the fire in the hotel, and he tampered with the train. This is not simply an unnecessary twist--in fact, one could argue that the film couldn't have ended any other way. Unlike The Sixth Sense, this film's ending does not make us rethink everything that happened before. Instead, it makes us look at a character differently (again, a matter of perception). Elijah is really an insane criminal mastermind, and has the most treacherous trait of all: total and utter selfishness. How is it to go through your entire life without ever knowing why you were put here? It's a scary thought, and Elijah finally discovers his purpose: he is David's nemesis. All is summed up in one simple line of dialogue... the very last line of dialogue in the film. "They called me Mr. Glass." In that one instant, you understand everything. It all clicks into place. I would even go so far as to say it is one of the greatest lines of dialogue ever written for a film. With five words, the film comes to an end (the film's only noticeable flaw is here: the film ends with text, informing us that Mr. Glass was committed to an insane asylum--why not just show us?). The film becomes a comic book movie with that line. David finally has his super-villain.

Shyamalan (who makes a surprise appearance as a drug-dealer suspect of dealing in the stadium) has total control over his film here. Only he could get away with a motion picture such as this. The slow, deliberate pace is exactly opposite of what we expect from an action-hero movie. We expect explosions and frantic set pieces of heart-pounding action. In fact, the only moment of action comes when David is fighting off the man in the orange outfit. David jumps on the man, and he gets whipped around like a doll. Who could blame him though? It is, after all, his first time acting as a superhero. He even ends up killing the man, whereas most superhero's would just tie them up or take them to jail. Again, slack must be given to him--the bad guy did kill two people. The film also contains moments of dry and very dark humor, as when David's son points a gun at him, ready to prove that he can't be hurt. The dialogue is well written and very funny (Audrey's line, "Friends don't shoot each other!" is particularly funny), despite the very dangerous risks at stake. When the scene is over, the three slump to the kitchen floor, unable to say or do anything. In another great scene, David discovers his strength, when his son helps him workout. Adding numerous plates to his barbell, Joseph stands in awe of his father. "250 pounds," David says after finishing a set. He's never lifted that much before. He finishes the scene lifting about 350 pounds, and neither of them know what to make of it. This goes back to aspects of yourself you never thought possible. Only when pushed do we discover what our true limits our. Sometimes, we never even discover talents for our entire lives because nobody has given it a second thought. Filled with hope and humanity, Unbreakable screams to viewers that it is alright to push your limits. What if, say, Beethoven had never attempted to write music? People are filled with possibilities they don't realize until someone or something provokes them to confront. This sense of hope is what makes Unbreakable a great film. It's not sarcastic, it's not demeaning, it's not satire... it's uplifting and thoughtful. In a day and age when so many are filled with misery and hatred, sometimes it's nice to see a film present something different. Here is something truly different: a comic book film focused entirely on the characters.

Bruce Willis must be given credit. Many pass off his performance as brooding or simplistic. Many of those people will not recognize the slow transition Willis goes through. He mopes around after the accident, trying to figure out why he was spared. His depression is quite evident, especially with his tragic state of broken marriage. In Willis' greatest scene, he picks up his wife, carries her up the stairs, lays her in his bed, and admits to her, "I had a bad dream." It's a quiet and affecting moment. Not to be outdone is Samuel L. Jackson, who gives one of the best performances of the year. His Elijah is a broken man, a man so riddled with self-hate that he himself breaks mentally and emotionally. His physical condition is a representation of his inner state. Unrecognizable to viewers, Elijah is the bad guy. We don't see it, just as David doesn't see it. On retrospect, his character's very actions are indicative of his part in the film. The way he dresses, the strange hairdo, the glass cane, and the big and oversized head and eyes (his mother states that the arch-villain tends to have larger eyes). Again, it's all a matter of perception. We never figure Elijah to be a bad person. Why would we? We have no reason to suspect him. And yet, it all works. He's the archetypical villain of comic books, and the "surprise" at the end of the film is truly fitting. Jackson handles the character's inner workings so well you can't even tell that the film is just as much about his character as it is about David. Spencer Treat Clark basically does what Haley Joel Osment did in The Sixth Sense (though not nearly as effectively), but Clark's work with Willis is remarkably good. His desire to see his parents back together is evident, and when he sees them getting along, he is shocked and speechless. Robin Wright Penn is extremely effective as Audrey, a woman who must deal with her son's outlandish claims and her husband's distance. She, too, has a great scene, where she tells David that she wants to start over. Penn works incredibly well with Willis, and the scenes between them are surprisingly emotional. It's basically a four-character film, and all four actors work very well together.

Unbreakable is rated PG-13 for mature thematic elements including some disturbing violent content, and for a crude sexual reference. The scene in which Joseph holds a gun on his father may be questionable, but it is handled quite well. You will not see any big, firey explosions, nor will you see any well-choreographed martial arts segments. This is a real life comic book film. Shyamalan takes elements of the comic book and plants them firmly in reality. The film almost demands to be looked at as a realistic human drama about extraordinary circumstances. In ways, themes of Hitchcock run underneath the proceedings. But this is Shyamalan's film, and he has not only topped himself here, he has created the best comic book film of all time--better than Superman, better than Batman or Batman Returns, better than the recent X-Men. And in a year of mediocre films, this is a definitely an exciting film. Unbreakable is far and away one of 2000's best films.

Rating: out of

© 2000 Boyd Petrie