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What Lies Beneath

What Lies Beneath

There really is nothing like a GOOD suspense thriller, which takes the time to build mood and atmosphere, and knowing just the right time to get things really going. Sadly, that is not the case with this 2000 film from legendary Oscar-winning director Robert Zemeckis and starring two of the greatest movie stars of the modern era. Michelle Pfeiffer plays a housewife who has just sent her daughter off to college and moved into a large new house with her college professor husband (Harrison Ford). It isn’t long before she starts hearing noises and experiencing strange things like the radio turning on unexpectedly, and pretty much this is where most of the script’s effort goes, as Zemeckis overdoes it on the extended buildup and doesn’t spend nearly enough time on the payoff itself, wasting nearly half the film’s running time on setting up an elaborate red herring, where Pfeiffer thinks that her next door neighbor (James Remar) has somehow murdered his wife (Miranda Otto) which is the cause of all the problems, only to drop it a little too far along into the movie. Worse, the film apes shots, plot points, and story twists from nearly half of Alfred Hitchcock’s filmography along with other, better ghost movies, giving it a patchwork feel that never seems original, plus Zemeckis seems to have developed an unusual fetish for his lead actress’ feet, as almost every scene Pfeiffer is in features some kind of closeup of her peds. Obviously it turns out that there IS some kind of ghost haunting their stately little abode, and without spoiling the later part of the film, it is being kind to say that the script blatantly telegraphs every plot twist long before it happens so that there is little shock or surprise when things do go down the way they do. At least Pfeiffer still looks great and is appealing, and Ford in the lesser role of her husband manfully carries things well as he always does, and certainly his acting gets more interesting as the story approaches its conclusion; plus Diana Scarwid gets some nice bits as Pfeiffer’s zany liberal friend; while Joe Morton looks like he’s nearly gonna fall asleep as the psychiatrist Pfeiffer visits to try to sort out her issues. Still, the story remains riddled with ridiculous plot holes and coincidences, like the totally random way Pfeiffer figures out the name of the ghost or the haphazard dynamic of Pfeiffer actually becoming “possessed” at one point by the entity, that at the end of the day all the viewer can do is throw up their hands and patiently wait for the whole thing to end. Overall, a major disappointment considering the formidable talent involved…

4/10

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