It is Hampton, Virginia. The year is 1976. A young, suburban couple, Norma and Arthur Lewis, are awaken by their doorbell at 5:45 in the morning. On their doorstep is a package. Inside the package are two items, a wooden box with a large, red button covered by a locked, glass dome on top, and a note stating Mr. Steward will be arriving at 5:00 that evening. At that time, a strange man with a disfigured face arrives. He explains to Norma that, should she and her husband press the button, two thing will happen. They will be awarded $1 million and someone who they do not know will die. They have 24 hours to choose.
Based on the 1970 short story “Button, Button” by Richard Matheson, which was later turned into an episode of THE TWILIGHT ZONE, THE BOX, written and directed by Richard Kelly begins as a taut, moral dilemma-driven thriller. It puts its lead characters into a “what would you do” scenario, one that turns back on the audience. In a nutshell, the story, previously placed into a 30-minute format, is comfortable there. It’s a simple story that asks a simple question. It’s only after the [SPOILER WARNING] button is pushed [END SPOILER WARNING] that things get a little hairy both for the characters and for the film itself.
What is most unfortunate about Kelly’s version of this story is that it, ultimately, feels like it has about 85 sides to it, all mixed together in a jumbled mess, all striving for attention from the audience. A box, as we all know, has six sides, and that is precisely where this story should have stayed. It is an intriguingly simple idea, one that is most welcome with minimum fluff and need for exposition. This is not where THE BOX goes. What we have here is an unraveling ball of yarn where we should have a nice, straight string.
Kelly throws so much into this film, it is difficult to keep everything straight. Arthur works for NASA, and the Viking Mars probe has something to do with it. Half the people in the town begin acting weird towards the couple, most of them receiving strange nosebleeds in the process. As Arthur and Norma begin investigating who Mr. Steward is and what his ultimate plan may be, things begin to grow nefarious. With each twist and turn the story takes, the overall interest in what is going breaks under the weight of convolution. By the time the endgame is revealed we simply don’t care any more. That revolution, by the way, is expounded to us through jerky exposition, scenes that, simply, don’t feel like a part of the rest of the film. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn they were filmed after the fact after test audiences complained about being confused.
Kelly is no stranger to this label of confusion-maker. DONNIE DARKO takes a number of passes through to learn what all it is about, and that was even before his increasingly involved director’s cut. SOUTHLAND TALES, his second film, is everything in one, and most don’t even care to see it a second time, let alone enough times to uncover all of its secrets. With THE BOX, Kelly had a real opportunity to show us how much he can do with very little. His direction is certainly there. The film captures the setting well, even though the product placement in this film is horrendously rank. There is an air of creepiness to the whole thing. Even when you don’t care about what is happening narratively, you definitely feel the unsettling aura that is surrounding the main characters.
Two elements to THE BOX fly close to perfection. One is Frank Langella’s captivating turn as Steward. He has always played villainous well, and, with this character, he is allowed to turn the charm on, as well. Langella gives a performance that shines through the character’s facial disfigurement, and it aids so much in how this couple felt comfortable allowing him in their home.
The other near-perfect aspect to THE BOX is its score. Win Butler, Regine Chassagne, and Owen Pallett, three members of the band Arcade Fire, provide the trembling orchestral soundtrack, and it adds to the discomfort protruding from much of the film. It calls to mind the great scores of films like THE BOX from the ’50s and ’60s, those paranoia-based thrillers where no one is as they seem. The works of Michael Small come to mind.
James Marsden and Cameron Diaz give satisfactory performances as the lead characters, even if Diaz’s southern accent goes round and round like a top. However, they never seem to be pushing themselves more than what is necessary, and, ultimately, it hurts in the care you derive from the characters. There is an emotional scene near the end, or, at least, it should be emotional. By that time, though, there is nothing given from either one of them that makes you step to the film’s beats.
THE BOX is anything but a complete train wreck, and, if that is considered a recommendation, than so be it. There are definite moments of anxiety, and much of that stems from Kelly’s direction. It certainly doesn’t come from the screenplay. When all is said and done, we have a film that tries to do too much, and a story that should have stayed simple for its own good. There is a reason that, nearly 40 years later, Richard Matheson’s simple and short story is still remembered. It’s just unfortunate that this new version of the story couldn’t have been either.
