A couple days after writing about The
Invisible Man, I was given a request by @WalrusNo (via letterboxd) to watch
and write about Paul Verhoeven’s Hollow Man. So I did… it is not good,
but in a way that is kind of compelling. First of all, thank you @WalrusNo for
the suggestion, and sorry for taking such a long time to write this sloppy
piece (though maybe it fits nature of the film, in hindsight), hopefully it
will suffice, regardless. Anyway...
[TW: Discussions on sexual violence]
Verhoeven is no stranger to exploitation
and cynicism, he is known for smartly using these elements in the form of
satire and cutting subtext. His English 80s-90s output—like Robocop,
Starship Troopers, Total Recall and Showgirls—are cynical and
crass stabs in the dark, skewering the likes late-stage capitalism, fascism, and
the media, which only rips further on repeat viewings. Yes, even Showgirls.
Imagine the looney lovechild between Douglas Sirk and John Carpenter, that is
Verhoeven. At times they are too crass for their own good but at least they are
clever and made with conviction. Hollow Man is a showcase of Verhoeven losing all conviction. Anytime a compelling idea is hinted on the screen, it
actively veers towards cheap slasher movie antics. The wit is gone and only the
crass exploitation remains.
To say Hollow Man is a fairly
vague adaptation of The Invisible Man would be generous. The creepy
original Dr. Griffin is now Dr. Caine here (Kevin Bacon giving it his sleazy
all), a military doctor who goes mad from an invisibility of his design. Now, taking
liberties is par for the course with adaptations, but this film forgoes the
paranoid themes of terrorism in favor of boring, economical slasher horror
shtick. Rather than witness the Invisible Man wreak havoc across the nation, we
see a sexually frustrated man in a latex mask wreak havoc in a locked down cheap
knock-off Jurassic Park laboratory. Much more attention was paid towards
special effects, namely the gruesome symptoms of the serum, which slowly makes
the skin, muscles, and finally bones vanish from sight. This special effect has
not aged well however, looking more like a video game character failing to
render properly than anything real, or scary. What a load. As the cast pantomimes
their death in progressively silly ways, one wonders what the point of even
associating the film with H.G Wells when it clearly aspires for William Castle
flick.
The film makes an awkward attempt to
modernize the madness of the classic character by focusing concept towards dark
sexual themes, which is simply unpleasant. Once Dr. Caine becomes invisible,
his mind bolts him into becoming a harasser and later a rapist murderer, which
provokes ideas about sexual violence and toxic masculinity that is still
relevant to this day, though it is handled as tactfully as Brian DePalma at his
worst. The film glimpses Dr. Caine’s worst actions through these lurid POV
shots, a move evoking Michael Myers’ creepy introduction in Halloween
(1978). Though rather than creating that same creeping dread, they come off
here as tired and cringy. These shots put the audience in Caine’s perspective,
but the film never skewers his perspective in a meaningful way. It just plays
like a crass attempt at cheap sexy flair, which this does not need. This is
what exploitation looks like, a film that superficially provokes sensitive
subject matter for the sake of cheap thrills.
Even
if one gave the benefit of a doubt that this was a well-intended attempt at tackling
such serious material, all the lurid POV shots and displays on toxic
masculinity all goes to hell in a handbasket with a third act that looks like
every Sy-Fy slasher film. Any sense of thematic arc is rendered into a trash
fire. The most egregious example is the arc of Kim Dickens’ character, Sarah
Kennedy, a colleague who defines herself as a brashly moral good by being
constantly at odds with Dr. Caine’s unethical practices. She is also the first
one harassed, which occurs in a tone-deaf scene that plays like Russ Meyer
attempting fuse Hitchcock with burlesque. One would at least expect some kind
of catharsis, she is certainly compelling enough to deserve it, but she merely
succumbs to a neck snap. No catharsis, just another body to fill out Hollow
Man. In hindsight, it should not be surprising, in a film filled with cynical
cheap shots, what is one more worth?
Cheap, it is the one word that haunts me
in this review. The word is so simplistic, I keep thinking the word is four
letters long, but it fits Hollow Man like a vinyl glove. With every
direction Verhoeven could have taken, he took the cheapest one, undermining his
strengths and revealing his worst traits. His films are cynical, but often in
the service of larger meaning. Cynical, self-interested characters fascinate
Verhoeven to the point where he can provide vivid clarity of their worldview,
whilst gunning them down. With Hollow Man he did not so much misfire, but
never pulled the trigger. Hollow Man is an empty-headed mess of that
fails to expand upon the story of The Invisible Man, let alone adapt,
and a failure for Verhoeven to say anything compelling at all. Sometimes cheap cynical exploitation is,
unfortunately, exactly that, which even Verhoeven realized in hindsight. In an
interview for The Hollywood Reporter, he laments “it made money and this and
that, but it really is not me anymore… there might have been 20 directors in
Hollywood who could have done that” (Zakarin, 2013). As awful as Hollow Man
may be, one has to respect Verhoeven for admitting his failures. It is rare
even now for an auteur to admit a mistake, rather than complain about PC
culture or justify dumb choices through obscure Hollywood trivia. Perhaps
Verhoeven learned from failure, his 2016 film Elle tackles similar
subject matter and has great reviews; though, having not seen it, I can only
speculate. Nevertheless, tackling difficult themes provocatively is an art form
in of itself that requires a smart, respectful, committed approach and even the
greats can fail. Admitting to failure—more than box office returns or Oscars—is
the one thing that separates the greats from the pretenders.
References
Zakarin,
J. (2013, June 3). Tribeca: Paul Verhoeven Crowdsources an Entire Movie,
Decries Hollywood Reboots. Retrieved from
Glad I never saw it
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