The Invisible Man

By: Maggie Stankiewicz

The Invisible Man had every disadvantage stacked on its translucent shoulders. From the failures of the Dark Universe to skepticism on writer-director Leigh Whannel’s ability to do the classic antagonist justice, the film refused to collapse from the pressure. Instead, The Invisible Man is a perfect representation of the horror genre – an effective exploration of the bowels of the human condition and a testament to man’s ability to become more monstrous than any creature or cryptid imagined. Intelligently written, well-framed and exceptionally acted, The Invisible Man is a thrilling, terrifying and (at times) all too real depiction of domestic violence, trauma and the struggle to be heard – or seen.

The film opens with an urgency that is well communicated by Whannel’s direction and Elisabeth Moss’ nuanced, yet frenetic mannerisms as her character Cecilia executes a plan to escape her abusive husband Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) and the oppressive fortress they cohabitate. It soon becomes clear that Cecilia has been planning her escape for a long time as her methodical jail-break lands her in her sister’s getaway vehicle and then, eventually, at an old friend’s home. Living under the supervision of her cop friend James (Aldis Hodge) and his daughter Sydney (Storm Reid), we see Cecilia is still unable to face the outside world out of fear of encountering Adrian…until her sister Emily (Harriet Dyer) arrives with news of Adrian’s apparent suicide.

Cecilia is skeptical of control freak Adrian’s ability to kill himself, but she still answers the call when summoned by his estate to inherit millions of dollars – becoming her main source of income. Even in supposed death Adrian has found a way to control her. Cecilia takes the money under the conditions of her remaining sane and free of criminality – and that’s when things truly begin to go awry. A series of microaggressions disguised as unfortunate coincidences crescendo into a nightmare that isolates and debilitates Cecilia, demonstrating the chain of abuse victims of domestic violence experience in reconciling with their trauma. It starts with a stolen kitchen knife and a breakfast scramble caught on fire and escalates to new heights that only contribute to the strengthening of Adrian’s vice grip on Cecilia.

All the while, Cecilia is adamant that Adrian is still lurking around every corner. Her friends and family dismiss her pleas for validation and write it off as a symptom of PTSD, but she knows better. Even so, the devil thrives in the disbelief of others. This is where Leigh Whannel’s artistic vision and Elisabeth Moss’ ability to become her character shines through. Cecilia’s perceived isolation is heightened by the invisible presence of Adrian in the room with her. Whannel’s voyeuristic camera work blankets Cecilia’s solo scenes with an uncanny sense of dread, tension and unseen danger. The weaponization of all that cannot be seen heightens the audience’s awareness to align with Cecilia’s – making every frame of the film feel suffocating.

Adrian, invisible to the eye but expansive in presence, carefully dismantles every aspect of Cecilia’s life until she has nothing left to hold onto but him. He creates chaos in her home environment, granting permission to her friends and family to gaslight her (so he doesn’t have to) before murdering her sister publicly and using his invisibility to frame her. In a short matter of time, Cecilia loses everything. Only then does Adrian allow himself, and his plan to control her, be fully seen. The film is steeped in not-so-subtle references to domestic violence, trauma and the identification of powerful institutions or people who have the means to silence and control their victims. Adrian is the institution and Cecilia has the option to fight back or allow it to swallow her whole.

The Invisible Man focuses less on the invisible man himself and more on Cecilia, an interesting and intellectual choice in a genre that largely lends itself to illuminating its antagonists – but it works perfectly in this case. Cecilia is haunted, next she becomes the hunted and then she becomes the survivor. As much time as the film spends accounting for Adrian’s attempted victimization of Cecilia, her strength rarely falters. There is always a spark in her, best depicted by Elisabeth Moss’ signature sneering grimace. You know the one – it’s the smile through the pain that promises more hurt for the recipient…and that’s exactly what we get in the film’s diabolical final act.

This movie covers a lot of ground. It tackles deep and difficult issues. It pays homage to its source material without being beholden to it. It accomplishes a hell of a lot in its two-hour run time, but at the end of the day The Invisible Man comes down to two central themes – believe women and don’t you dare underestimate them.