Devil

It struck me while watching John Erick Dowdle's Devil that Satan must really have quite a lot of time on his hands. Assuming he's not an omnipresent being who can multitask a billion things at once - i.e. like God - you'd think he'd have an extensive list of priorities that doesn't include tormenting a bunch of randoms in an elevator. I mean, the author of all sin and the supreme enemy of righteousness should have more important things to do, right? Heck, the fact that he hasn't yet catapulted Paris Hilton off the top of a skyscraper still baffles me.

In the imaginatively titled Devil - which, for your information, is not a heartfelt biopic of his terror-reigning life - he is the conniving villain, but he does not appear with the stereotypical pitchfork and facial horns. Instead, he has taken on the form of a normal-looking human being, the identity of whom we, as oblivious viewers, are unaware of. It could be a man, it could be a woman, it could be Lady Gaga; we don't know, and guessing is part of this movie's fun.

Following several stylish, unsettling and slightly disorientating upside-down shots of the city of Philadelphia during the majestic opening titles, we see a man committing suicide by jumping off the top of a high-rise building and landing on the roof of a truck. A suicide paves the way for the devil's arrival, our Hispanic narrator tells us.

Later that day, while police investigate the incident, five strangers - Sarah, a rich, young gold digger; Ben, a member of security; Vince, a selfish and obnoxious salesman; Tony, a quiet yet peevish mechanic; and a nameless cranky old lady - get on an elevator in the same building the suicide jumped off of earlier. Not long after pressing the up button, the elevator unexpectedly stops somewhere near the top, leaving the five tense passengers momentarily stranded between floors.

What seems to just be an annoyingly stuck elevator quickly turns into something a heck of a lot more sinister, as the bickering strangers begin to mysteriously die one by one whenever the lights go out. As firemen unsuccessfully try to break their way in through the carriage's doors, the increasing body count has our leads promptly turning on one another. Is it the devil? Is it one of them? Is it someone outside? Did they do something to deserve to be here? And who the hell farted? Uncool, man.

Devil is the first in what is promised to be a trilogy entitled The Night Chronicles, i.e. unrelated films produced and thought up by M. Night (cough, The Happening, The Last Airbender, cough) Shyamalan. Yes, Mr. Egocentric himself has his blood-red, clawed mitts all over this film, and his fingerprints are always burning in the back of your head like a 666 birthmark throughout. Thankfully, he is not writing nor directing, so you can expect something worthy of your time and money.

Our director - namely the guy who recently helmed Quarantine, the frame-for-frame remake of Spanish horror [Rec] - proves himself to be dashing with a camera, working alongside cinematographer Tak Fujimoto to ignite the film with an ominous sense of dread.

Screenwriter Brian Nelson (30 Days of Night, Hard Candy)'s script gives us no one to trust, our suspicions as to who could be the devil and who definitely isn't constantly switching places. While this succeeds in keeping us on the edge of our seat, it makes it difficult to find a character to root for, because for all we know they're the Prince of Darkness lurking underneath.

Each of our main characters trapped inside the non-moving box are played by actors who apparently love to chew scenery. Unfortunately for them, they're stuck in an elevator, so they'll have to settle on munching on each other. They are somewhat hammy and none of them are all that likeable, but they nonetheless are an entertaining and convincing cast keeping the whodunit factor intact.

Devil could have added on its intriguing premise by being a purely claustrophobic horror with five cast members going John Carpenter's The Thing on each other, but sadly there are many scenes that take place outside the immobile lift. Chris Messina is Detective Bowden, a devout atheist investigating the matter, watching through the security camera and talking to them through the one-way intercom, his religious beliefs inevitably and predictably coming into question as he witnesses the bloody events unfold.

Matt Craven and Jacob Vargas both play fellow security guards who report the incident and watch the elevator's live feed alongside Bowden in the control room. Craven is more the everyday friendly type, while Vargas (who serves as our narrator as well) is a deeply religious Catholic who, in one scene, proves that Satan is in fact roaming around by throwing a slice of toast on the floor and freaking out when it lands with the jammed side facing downward. I'm betting this was Shyamalan's idea. Damn it, Shyamalan!

Fernando Velázquez 's thunderous orchestral score enhances the threatening mood in what is otherwise a not-so-scary movie. Jump-scares are used abundantly and nerve-shredding tension is only occasional, the true feeling of fear rarely utilised to petrify the viewer. When the elevator lights go out, we know something spooky's about to happen, but it simply isn't hair-raising enough.

Saying that, I did find myself enjoying the film and getting into it for the first hour or so. It has its ups and downs (hee hee hee), but is competently crafted, if leading up to an underwhelming finale. And, of course, how could I forget that horrifying moment that made me almost shit myself with unmitigated terror, when the words, "Produced by M. Night Shyamalan" popped up on screen? Surely he's the devil.

6/10