M. Night Shyamalan owes James McAvoy a beer for making this crazy shit work.
I was apprehensive heading into Split. Partly because of M. Night Shyamalan’s reputation for staking a whole movie’s value on the strength of an eleventh-hour twist, but mostly because this reeked of the type of Hollywood drama that uses a surface-level understanding of a real mental disorder to lend its plot some pseudo-scientific credibility. I needn’t have worried, though, because Split doesn’t even flirt with anything resembling medical accuracy. The plot-driving disorder is pure sci-fi, and that works for a film that is more exploitation flick than psychological thriller. Kevin (James McAvoy) has a host of personalities, each with its own background and set of traits. The element that belies real-world comparisons is that Kevin’s physiology changes depending on which personality is in the driver’s seat. For instance, one of the personalities is diabetic, and Kevin’s body actually requires insulin when she is in control. Furthermore, the personalities all interact with each other when they are on stand-by, leading to some inter-brain politics and secret alliances. It’s all so silly, and yet McAvoy heroically tows a line that keeps his performance on just the right side of absurdity. His acting is really the film’s greatest asset.
The plot involves one of the personalities kidnapping a trio of young girls for unknown, but certainly nefarious, purposes. Meanwhile, his doctor starts to suspect something is amiss and sets out to investigate, all while providing us with some handy exposition about Kevin’s illness. There is a twist ending, natch, but the film builds to it logically. In fact, by the time it started hinting at what was coming in the grisly, heightened third act, I couldn’t help grinning to myself. Overall, this was a hit for me, with a fun sense of unpredictability and a few moments of true horror. My only complaint is that beyond the threat of rape implied by the film’s central conceit, there is also a child molestation subplot that I tend to find distasteful for what is essentially a modern exploitation film. This is not a movie equipped to handle that type of subject with the consideration it deserves. Beyond that, though, Shyamalan really directs Split with panache, and McAvoy goes all in on a terrific performance that should have probably earned him some award consideration (even though it is also the type of performance that would never be seriously considered for a major award). Oh, and that’s not even counting the extra secret twist ending that made me laugh out loud out of sheer incredulousness. Marvel ain’t the only ones who know how to craft a stinger.
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