It
appears that found footage as a cinematic narrative device is here to stay.
Despite the fact that even the exemplars of the genre (your Chronicles
and Cloverfields) have a devil of a time justifying the logic
behind their use of hand-held cameras long beyond the point at which sane
people would set down the camera and try to survive, these films persevere. The
Quiet Ones is at its best when it dismisses this trope (it switches
between in-camera found footage and a ‘real’ cinematic world). Although even at
its best, it remains a dull and derivative piece of work. It is the refuge of
horror films that contain nothing unsettling to merely pummel you into
submission with jump scares stacked atop each other like a wobbly Jenga tower,
and all that The Quiet Ones does to refine that system is to
ironically refute its title – these are the loudest jump scares that I can recall
in recent memory. And the most for that matter, giving the movie the cumulative
effect (and staying power) of walking through a moderately-effective haunted
house staffed by ghouls and goblins all sporting megaphones. There are brief
glimpses of inspiration – setting the film on and around Oxford University in
the mid ‘70s allows for a period flavor not usually associated with found
footage (creaky 16mm is the weapon of choice). Having its professor and student
assistants characters actively courting the evil spirit throughout (under the
guise of an experiment meant to prove that the mentally ill manifest these
paranormal events themselves) give the film an aggressive instead of passive
energy.
The
film engenders a fair bit of goodwill by casting Jared Harris (best known as
Moriarty from the recent Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows or Lane
Pryce from Mad Men) as the Oxford professor behind these
experiments. He’s able to sell lines like, “Please remove your hands from his
trousers” or “Perhaps it was ectoplasm” with relish. While his Mephistophelean
beard and constant shots of him ominously leering clue us in early as to which
direction we’re heading in, Harris is so talented that you’re willing to join
him on such a clichéd journey. It seems that the role of ‘possessed girl’ is
frequently becoming the juiciest get for young actresses in Hollywood, allowing
for a vast spectrum of emotions that being the disapproving girlfriend in a
generic comedy doesn’t, and Olivia Cooke does fine work with that role here.
Whereas the other young actors do little to differentiate themselves, Cooke is
able to play all facets of her possessed Jane Harper with equal aplomb – be it
the character’s budding sexuality, emotional fragility (if you took a shot
after every jump scare combined with every crocodile tear that slides down her
face you would be dead) or brief flashes of unbridled mania.
But
even blessed with these gifted performers it’s hard to get past how craven the
entire enterprise feels. Credited to three screenwriters “based on” the
screenplay of another, it feels like the premise and execution are catering to
current trends instead of trying to forge new ones, the results of focus groups
and studio meetings instead of creativity and inspiration. You have your creepy
doll, period setting and focus on ‘scientific’ means of measuring the
paranormal all straight from The Conjuring and then you go ahead
and add found footage on top of that? It feels unnecessary, as you could change
Sam Claflin’s Brian McNeil character from the camera operator he portrays here
to some other menial role without skipping a beat. This however implies a
higher level of commitment to crafting something genuinely unsettling instead
of the obnoxiously loud diversion we’re stuck with. Just remember to bring
earplugs.
