Have you ever traded people in your life? I have. Years ago, a girl I knew asked me to track down her missing brother. I complied and shortly discovered he wasn’t really missing. I told her he was fine, but out of respect for his privacy, refused to tell her any more than that. That was the very last time she spoke to me. But I became good friends with the brother. Weird, huh? No regrets on that deal, btw.
I mention that pointless bit of personal history because plantation-trash teen India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska) loses a father only to have the gap immediately filled by her estranged uncle (Matthew Goode). Nature hates a vacuum, doncha know? The whole situation oozes with atmospheric creep. People exchange knowing looks. Music suggests potential horror. Mystery clouds India’s entire life — how did her dad die? Why is her uncle here? Is there an adult relationship between uncle and India’s antagonistic mother (Nicole Kidman)? Most parents at least feign affection towards their children; Evelyn sees no merit in such. And why should she? The next endearing thing India does will be her first.
Stoker is replete with awkward silences and questions: India engages social norm with all the acceptance of your average house cat. Dinner is made. She might come down. She might not. If she eats, she doesn’t engage in conversation. A lot is made of dinner, which is fitting, I suppose, as Stoker is filled to the brim with red herring. Charles is a great cook. India cleans her plate, but then -like a house cat- gets embarrassed when Charles calls attention to it. Charles isn’t eating. Evelyn makes a knowing expression. She and Charles exchange a look. No dialogue. Moodiness. Hunger. Lack of hunger. What does all this mean? It means the director needed to film another ten minutes to justify a full-length run-time. That’s all. Stoker is a film without logic or substance; it’s all about mood and creep. It grows tiresome. The conclusion is beyond tiresome and well into irresponsible territory.
For dessert, India chooses ice cream in the cooler filled with grandma. I suppose you can think of this as a mystery. I wouldn’t. Next time, just go to Baskin-Robbins. “Nana” is not yet among their 31 flavors.
Picking up the pieces when daddy goes
Uncle Charles exacerbates familial woes
Does the atmosphere push to the edge of one’s toes?
Not if this is the film you chose
Rated R, 99 Minutes
D: Chan-wook Park
W: Wentworth Miller, Erin Cressida Wilson
Genre: Moody blues
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Style over substance types
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Suckers for plot
