NEXT DOOR

The whimsy of the viewing public (and bank accounts) have again spoken, decreeing that the horror genre do another turnabout and exchange the diluted ridiculousness of PG rated, overly simplistic moral fables for completely amoral slaughter-fests of torture and pain (not to mention copious amounts of gore and guts). And while there is certainly room in the genre for graphic violence and situations that push human endurance past psychological/physical taboos (indeed, violence has played a significant role in the history of our species' art since time immemorial), the feverish flow of Hostel-inspired torture films drenching the field is already in danger of making fans forget that fear, as an emotion, may be attained through whispers as well as screams. In fact, often shadows are more terrifying than a dripping wound. shadows as well as blood. Next Door, the newest offering from TLA's 'After Dark' label, proves precisely that, evoking a very real, palpable sense of terror not by bloodletting but through the psychological art of suggestion, careful storytelling, and stealthy pacing. More horror is glimpsed in a facial leer in this film than may be experienced in two hours worth of grue. The filmmaker's achieve this height of realism and despair by distorting reality. Better yet, they throw into question our interpretation of reality (which is, at best, subjective). This is achieved with a minimum of violence (until a shocking ending!), and through an unsettling atmosphere, asking us to reinterpret our own values as we become lost in the inspired deviancy on the screen.

Indeed, the most horrifying body part in Next Door is the mind -- fragile, easy to mislead, and undependable at best. A fragmented plot structure combines the cold isolation of modern living and isolation with seduction and mistrust. The narrative unfolds with the emotionally desperate alienation and hunger of its principle character. Adapting the purposely convoluted psychological scenarios of Polanski, and the cold beauty of European art cinema, the central narrative of this Norwegian thriller focuses on the descent into madness of a quiet young man (Kristoffer Joner) who, living alone with his insecurities and growing unease, is emotionally tortured by Cecilie Mosli and Julia Schacht, two seductive fem fatal neighbors. Torn between attraction and repugnance, mistrust and desire, the 'hero' of this labyrinthine investigation of identity and madness is an embodiment of the cultural 'Outsider,' struggling to maintain balance between sanity and madness in a life that quickly washes away the borders between realism and the fantastical. As the leering, icy young women seduce him with stories of sexual escapades and innuendos, the subjective nature of reality and one's relationship to it crack asunder, resulting in a Palanski-like whirlpool of violence -- not simply of the body but the mind as well. Ideals and faith are as battered as flesh herein, with the presence of the rooms themselves -- the very surroundings -- evoking a paranoid sense of loneliness and threat.

An emotional vivisection of logic and human feeling, Next Door is not a popcorn horror film crafted for simple enjoyment. Neither safe nor nonsensical, it betrays none of the self referential humor, comedy, or outlandish effects that often distance audiences from the emotional truth of drama. Indeed, this psychological punch to the guts is nothing less than a vivisection of moral fortitude. Challenging not only what we see but HOW we see it, the filmmaker's suggest the frailty of those supposedly objective truths which define reality and our place within. We're invited through emotionally intensive use of haunted lighting, draining performances, and a complex, introspective script to share the central character's fragmented states of emotional despair. When he questions his perception of the world/himself, the film whips away the good carpet of 'reality' from beneath our feet -- and leaves us with a cold, empty fear in our hearts. This is precisely what a real horror film -- horror as art -- should do. Dark cinema too often sugar coats the horrible intellectual implications and emotional effects of its themes by hiding behind fantasy or -- worse yet -- by ensuring that conventional threats to the status quo are defeated by picture's end. Not so in director Pal Sletaune's vision, whose depiction of the world of claustrophobic urban nightmare is peopled with emotional threats and philosophical suggestions whose abstract, ethereal nature are easily more disturbing than simple physical threats. If much of the violence in the picture is implied, and the film itself is so very powerful precisely because of its use of suggestion, than the terrible nature of relationships (with other people, women, and ourselves) are delivered with jarring emotional violence.

This film attacks intellectually and emotionally more often than through the flesh. Of further disquieting effect -- and one of the major trumps of the story -- is the unsettling ambiguity. Rationales and motives are approached but never belabored in the script. Throughout the sinister relationship between the young man and the girls next door, never once are we spoon fed explanations as to why the girls are tormenting him. Nor are we insulted by false morality. Sletaune refuses to preach morals or demand we see the enigmatic possibilities of the script in any one fashion. It is precisely the lack of resolve that makes the interplay between characters intriguing. The fragmented structure of the narrative mirrors the confusion of the characters. Sletaune visually represents -- and adds further dimension to -- the strong emotions of his human monsters through the use of atmosphere and setting. A consciously slow pace allows the story to develop like a dream. While at times laborious, this slow-burn approach makes possible the realism and dramatic effect of the final explosion of rage. The action rarely leaves the four grim, dimly lit walls of an apartment building, and all is painted with a pallid, charnel house pallor. The very look of the film suggests in its pale tinge the presence of the otherworldly. The story itself is neither fantasy or realism but a challenge to one's perception of both. If the plot is minimal, then this too is conscious, further suggesting the revelations inherent in the most simplistic of everyday situations.

The director's attention to physical detail, lighting, and camera compositions is reverently preserved in TLA's superior transfer. Nourish lighting, pallid, corpse-like facial structures, and an ever-present funeral gleam covers all in an impressive transfer. Lacking any significant grain or splotching, the colors are clear and satisfying while retaining their dark, grimy 'feeling.' The interplay between light and shadow coats the production in a lyrical death knoll which properly reflects the pathos and pain of the narrative. The audio in Dolby Digital 2.0 with English Subtitles is strong and even, without any noticeable background disruptions. The track captures the dialogue and score with equal distribution, injecting further life to this paranoiac glimpse into lonely lives shattered by disillusionment.

Extras for Next Door include a documentary of Behind-the-Scenes material, exploring how Sletaune composed certain shots, his preference of music while working, and the various methods which he used to instigate mood in his cast. Short but illuminating, this featurette is instructive while showing the director's personality. "Meet the People Next Door" is next, lending further intimacy to the proceedings as actresses Molsi and Schacht are interviewed. While not as intriguing as the director, both starlets are enthusiastic and enjoyable to spend time with, recounting experiences with their director and each other, including how they prepared for the role, what they feel about their characters, and details from their screen tests. "Rooms of the Mind" pays tribute to the oft ignored importance that location/setting plays in developing mood in a story, focusing on the search for and use of the apartment interiors of Next Door. Trailers for other Danger After Dark titles conclude this solid package of a remarkable psychological horror film.

Review by William P. Simmons