THE GOBLINS WILL GET YOU IF YOU DON’T WATCH OUT
Main Cast: Adam Scott, Robert DeNiro
Director: James Ashcroft
I met the well-dressed gentleman from the previous night in my hotel restaurant for brunch as we had previously arranged. I arrived first, clad in a lovely pair of periwinkle lounging pajamas from the VickiWear collection that I had spotted in a second hand store on a late afternoon ramble the previous day. The ink stain and scorch marks on the left leg are barely visible, and I felt that wearing something from one of my signature collections should show me off to my best advantage. He was running late and I was on my second pitcher of mimosas when he made his entrance and crossed to my table.
He introduced himself as Michael, seemed to know all about my career and was a complete gentleman in every way. I batted my eyes, had another drink, and explained my current difficulties in getting across the border due to my missing passport and the border guards not accepting my generous supply of press clippings and old playbills as proof of identity and citizenship. I had contacted Fajer and Hellmann, my attorneys, who were supposedly working on expedited documentation to get me across the border but there seemed to be some delay and, the last time I called, whomever answered the phone said ‘Allo, who dis? No English’ and hung up. He was very sympathetic and said he owned a nearby nightclub and, if I would consent to make a special appearance, he had an idea. Feeling a need to stretch again as a performer, I rapidly said yes, we worked out a set list over eggs benedict and I agreed to meet him at his club, El Pavo Real, later that afternoon.
As I had a few hours to kill, I went back to my room, fired up my tablet, and skimmed through the newer films available on the streaming services. My eye fell on one new to Netflix, The Whisper Man, mainly as the cast included Robert DeNiro, Michael Keaton, and Adam Scott. With those names among the leads, I figured it might be worth my time so I curled up on the divan, started in on my to go mimosa, and settled in to be entertained. I was entertained. I was not enthralled. I understood why Netflix had not given the film a theatrical release.
The Whisper Man, based on a novel by British crime writer Steve Mosby (writing under the pen name Alex North), tells a story of fathers and sons and how sins of a previous generation are passed down unwittingly to the next one. Adam Scott, more somber and grizzled than in his Parks and Rec days, plays Tom Kennedy, a novelist who has been recently widowed and moves to his old hometown with his young son Jake (Acston Luca Porto) where he rents an enormous turn of the last century house in his attempts to forget and start over. Meanwhile, elsewhere in town, young boys’ bodies are turning up, murdered in the same style as a serial killer active thirty years prior and known as ‘The Whisper Man’ for his habit of leaving whispered messages and tapes to torment the victims’ families.
Detective Melissa Beck (Michelle Monaghan) is working on this new case. It can’t possibly be the original killer (Michael Keaton) who remains imprisoned, so she meets with Peter Willis (Robert DeNiro), the detective on the original cases of thirty years ago who caught The Whisper Man. Young Jake may be haunted by a supernatural force acting as The Whisper Man and disappears in a way suggesting he may become the next victim. Tom, Detective Beck, and retired Detective Willis (with whom Tom has connections) team up to find his son. There are complications involving a creepy collector of serial killer memorabilia (Hamish Linklater), the history of the rental house, and an absent psychiatrist until we build up to a denouement filled with father and son reunions of various stripes.
I found The Whisper Man rather pedestrian. Films like this succeed if they keep you in suspense and deliver enough moments of frisson to keep you wondering what happens next. This requires a certain level of commitment from the cast, some inventive direction, some decent twists in the story, and a uniformity of tone and mood. Unfortunately, we’re missing most of these things. Adam Scott has the level of commitment necessary in his portrayal of grieving spouse and tortured father and delivers a competent performance, miles away from the lightweight comedy in which he first made his name. However, his bigger name costars, especially Robert DeNiro and Michael Keaton, are simply phoning it in and don’t go anywhere deep enough with their characters to give us the emotional complexity and darkness the roles need.
Director James Ashcroft, whose resume is full of minor projects of which I have never heard, manages to come up with a couple of small jump scares and moody shots, but they are outnumbered by poorly staged action sequences and plot points telegraphed far in advance, although that may be the screenplay, credited to multiple authors all with minimal screenwriting experience. Therefore, the whole thing comes together as something like an ABC TV movie of the week from 1974. Competently made, but uninspired. The kind of film to put on while doing the ironing.
The film would not have garnered much attention at all if it were not for the presence of DeNiro and Keaton who are also the weakest links. If released theatrically, it would likely have sunk without a trace. A direct to streaming release saves on the publicity budget and allows it to be featured prominently in recommendations until such time as enough people watch it and recognize it for the inferior effort that it is. Adam Scott deserves a better feature to showcase his talents as he is developing into a competent mature leading man.
Hand through letter box. Weak spot in the floor. Body in barrel. Body in box. Body in field. Gratuitous garlic shaving. Constant rainstorms. Prison visits. Spooky cellar.
Originally from Seattle Washington, land of mist, coffee and flying salmon, Mrs. Norman Maine sprang to life, full grown like Athena, from Andy’s head during a difficult period of life shortly after his relocation to Alabama.
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