Unbreakable (2000) – [VISTA Series] – DVD|Blu-ray Disc

**½/****
DVD – Image A Sound A Extras B+
BD – Image B+ Sound A+ Extras B+
starring Bruce Willis, Samuel L. Jackson, Robin Wright Penn, Spencer Treat Clark
written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover I came late to the Sixth Sense party. After sneering at the trailer–which, with its moppet-in-peril and supernatural themes, made the film look like just another one of those less commercial pop jobs that get shoehorned into late-summer release–I put it immediately out of my mind. But three weeks later, I discovered that it had become a huge hit, with a sizable amount of critical acclaim, and it led me to wonder how I had managed to miss the parade. What was it about this film about a boy who sees dead people that had touched such a sensitive nerve?

I was no more satisfied once I had seen the film. It was watchable, all right, and it had a lovely, languorous style that lent it gravity, but it was full of holes and left me no richer for having seen it. I could find no reason for its runaway success, and left the theatre puzzled as to the reason for its wild popularity. This, however, did nothing to dent the enthusiasm of everyone I knew who had seen it, who were more than satisfied with its shock ending and everything that came before. Maybe it was just me, I thought, and so in conversation, I cut it more slack than my gut told me was reasonable.

I had actually looked forward to Unbreakable, Shyamalan’s follow-up, thinking I wasn’t going to be caught unaware a second time–and was rewarded with what seemed to be a richer style, a greater degree of sensitivity, and a more powerful premise that suggested a big metaphysical wrap-up. But as the film gathers steam, it reveals more and more information as to the nature of its protagonist’s problem–and ups the ante as to what we need to know in the future. When this film’s shock ending arrives, it not only fails to live up to what precedes it, but also invalidates everything we’ve seen. Unbreakable is a powerhouse prior to that, largely because Shyamalan’s style is so brilliantly grave that it imparts meaning to the sometimes patchy episodes of the screenplay, but not even a great technique can make up for the poor excuse for a denouement that scuttles the whole affair.

The film immediately gets our hopes up as we join the action on a train ride back to Philadelphia. In a virtuoso sequence, the camera weaves back and forth across the gaps between seats to capture a flirtation between married David Dunn (Bruce Willis) and a pretty female passenger (Leslie Stefanson) who rebuffs his advances. The scene as written isn’t terribly exciting (it’s not bad, though you’ve seen it before), yet what Shyamalan does with it is magic, using the obstruction of the seats and the dimness of the light to evoke the desperation of the act and the inevitability of its failure. Having struck this sombre and personal note, the plot then intervenes in the form of a massive trainwreck, one that occurs entirely off-screen, the better to rob the audience of the horror it was craving and push the consequences to the fore. As a shaken but alive David staggers through the hospital and dozens of grieving family members look on with awe, it is revealed that not only is he the sole survivor of the derailment, but he sustained no injuries whatsoever–a feat that has the doctors scratching their heads in amazement.

At first, it seems as though David will resume his humdrum life as a security guard with a strained marriage to wife Audrey (Robin Wright Penn, in a thankless role) and an exuberant son (Spencer Treat Clark) who wants more than Dunn can give. As we learn that David’s football career was (allegedly) ruined by a car accident, Shyamalan ladles on the stasis, choosing wide angles and low-key lighting to swamp Willis in the middle of a deep darkness. Here is that rare director who knows how to direct a straight dialogue scene without resorting to shot-reverse-shot or some other montage solution; letting the camera run as David talks to Audrey off-screen, we see the weight of his average life settle onto his shoulders, and his total bewilderment as to how he got there. But then we are introduced to Elijah Price (Samuel L. Jackson), a comic art dealer who suffers from Osteogenesis Imperfecta, which leaves him with brittle bones that make his every move a risk. The news of David’s survival is a beacon of hope for him, perhaps as some kind of medical solution to his condition–or perhaps for other reasons.

It’s here that the film begins to make promises of great things to come. It’s also the spot where Unbreakable walks a fine line between sublime and ridiculous. As Elijah begins to jog David’s memory about his special nature–how he can’t remember ever being sick, how he is vague as to the nature of the wound that ended his football career, how he has a…sixth sense?…for troublemakers on the protector’s job that he has coincidentally chosen–the film begins building up the myth surrounding these discoveries, piecing together a powerful man who could be the salvation of many. In the hands of another director, this could have been a complete hoot, but Shyamalan knows how to frame the overblown notions of the script with visual counterpoint, so that it becomes about the recovery of David’s self-esteem through the discovery of his powers rather than a show of photogenic strength. By keeping the tones earthy and sedate, disallowing heavy montage, privileging wide master shots, and keeping the lights dim, he illuminates the inner state of his protagonist, concealing the sometimes ludicrous or illogical parts of the story by making us feel the effects of those parts on our hero before we can interrogate them intellectually.

Unfortunately, this also creates a need to understand the phenomenon we are watching, an understanding that we vainly hope will be provided at the film’s conclusion. Shyamalan’s script runs out of ideas even as it kicks the narrative into overdrive–a fact that his emotional compositions can only temporarily mask. When the mysterious Elijah reveals his true identity at the film’s conclusion, the air is let out of all of the goodwill that Shyamalan has been building up with his portentous style. While the look suggested there was something there we hadn’t noticed normally, the film’s kicker is so cheesy and mechanical that it retroactively cancels out the rest of Unbreakable. I suppose it wouldn’t be cricket to tell, but it would save you the displeasure of the year’s cruellest disappointment.

Coming away from that terrible letdown, the film still left me with the hum and torpor of Shyamalan’s gorgeously sad imagery. You wouldn’t hesitate to hang any shot from this singularly beautiful film on your living room wall. It’s not just well directed, it’s perfectly directed, in a style completely Shyamalan’s own, typical to no one but himself. But on evidence of his last two films, he still has a ways to go in creating meaning to go along with that beauty. Without the synthesis of idea and image–and there are plenty of ideas flailing around in the implications of his images, waiting to be harnessed–the result is like watching a film out of synch, its blissful images rendered mute by sounds that tell a story that has already passed its moment. Originally published: November 25, 2000.

THE DVD
by Bill Chambers Contrary to the tone of my original review (no longer online), I do love Unbreakable. While I still dislike the absolute final seconds, Unbreakable is immaculately modulated up to that point. The film’s DVD version marks the debut of Touchstone’s “VISTA Series” line–“Celebrating the filmmaker’s vision with imagination and content,” its tagline goes. (Though “vista” is half the name of Touchstone’s parent company Buena Vista, the studio has gone so far as to turn the word into an acronym for, um, “Vision Imagination STyle Artistry.”) The sole adjective that comes to mind when considering this 2-disc package is “classy,” for though I’ve experienced my share of more bonus-heavy special editions, few have so reflected the tone of their forebears. Everything from the uncluttered cover art to the subdued (and 16×9-enhanced) supplemental material is in keeping with Unbreakable‘s restraint.

It all begins at a THX-approved transfer of stunning quality. The 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen image doesn’t suggest perfection, but intent: a mix of half-grey blacks and otherworldly desaturated colours. The compression seems flawless, although some minor print speckling occurs. The DTS and Dolby Digital 5.1 mixes (I’m a tad surprised that neither was encoded for a third surround channel) are enveloping, though the former handles panning effects with greater aplomb. Bass is tight on both, with the LFE belching the most realistic clickety-clacks during David’s fateful train ride that I’ve ever heard in the home theatre.

That’s disc one. Disc two, whose menus are purplish, in accordance with Elijah’s wardrobe, offers two non-flashy, shot-on-film documentaries, “Behind the Scenes” and “Comic Books and Superheroes”. Each is of a compromised length (15 and 20 mins., respectively), but I appreciated their breadth of discussion. The second featurette includes interviews with Wil Eisner, Frank Miller, and Michael Chabon (author of Wonder Boys) and covers the evolution of comic books into their largely humourless current form, which is not altogether frowned upon. Next up is a dual-angle comparison of the edited train station sequence (wherein David first applies his psychic powers) to its storyboard concept, with three listening options: Dolby Digital 5.1 music and effects; DD 5.1 music only; and DD 5.1 effects only. Shyamalan comes off like the next Hitchcock: the finished product rarely deviates from his frame sketches.

Next up are seven Shyamalan-introduced deleted scenes (in soft-sounding DD 5.1) that enrich the characters, if in a redundant fashion. My favourite of these was a second weightlifting number: in a stadium locker room, David bench-presses 500 lbs. (The way the ambient noise drops out here is especially clever.) Finally, in addition to the double-sided collectible piece of Alex Ross art (right) that comes tucked inside every set (or should: some consumers have reported theirs absent from the gatefold), we have “Night’s First Action Sequence”, an excerpt from a cheeseball camcorder movie that Shyamalan made as a teenager. It brought back fond memories of the weekends my friends and I spent making crappy movies in high school. Originally published: July 13, 2001.

THE BLU-RAY DISC
Breathe easy: Buena Vista brings Unbreakable to Blu-ray in one of their better catalogue transfers. The 2.35:1, 1080p image is a little rough around the edges, but a simple A/B comparison with the standard-def VISTA Series platter brings the refinements into stark relief. The film enjoys richer blacks on BD and those passages that almost look ‘flashed’ (mostly in the Dunn home) sport improved detail and a more balanced latitude. Colours boast seemingly increased accuracy: check out Elijah’s coat, now a deep, metallic purple instead of a dull brown-grey. Grain spikes now and again and at its coarsest–such as when an E.R. patient disturbingly bleeds out while David awaits his prognosis (chapter 3)–suggests video noise, which may be a by-product of the inferior techniques used to integrate CGI in the early ’00s. (Ditto the still-present flecking in the source print.) The DD 5.1 (640 kbps) audio is on a par with the DTS track of the DVD, maybe even a bit more transparent; that Richard King’s kickass soundmix hasn’t aged a day makes it doubly frustrating that I can’t access the accompanying uncompressed, 24-bit option with my current receiver. I should also add that the dialogue registers with greater clarity and authority despite retaining its hushed character. Extras are identical to the VISTA set and haven’t been remastered beyond 480i, though in revisiting them I have to say they really hold up. (Likewise Unbreakable itself, with which Shyamalan peaked.) Only the Alex Ross insert and the multi-audio of the train-station feature were dropped for this release. Startup Blu-ray and National Treasure: Book of Secrets promos round out the disc.

• DVD
  102 minutes; PG-13; 2.35:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 5.1, English DTS 5.1; CC; French, Spanish subtitles; 2 DVD-9s; Region One; Touchstone
• BD
  102 minutes; PG-13; 2.35:1 (1080p/MPEG-4); English 5.1 LPCM, English DD 5.1, French DD 5.1; English SDH, French, Spanish subtitles; BD-50; Region-free; Buena Vista