Have you ever seen a movie, and forgotten that you’ve seen it within hours of leaving the theatre? That’s what happened to me after seeing The Forgotten. I’m not saying it’s a bad movie (although I’m not saying it’s a particularly good one, either); I’m just saying that there isn’t much memorable about it. It’s like a name you forget moments after hearing it, or a phone number you constantly have to re-check. It just won’t stick in your mind.
Things have a way of not sticking in people’s minds in the film. Julianne Moore plays Telly Paretta, a mother who still can’t get over her young son’s death in a plane crash 14 months earlier. What’s strange about the situation isn’t that she’s been grieving for so long; it’s that everyone around her—including her therapist (Gary Sinise) and even her husband (Anthony Edwards)—keeps insisting that she never had a son.
Moore’s performance in the early scenes is a kind of is-she-crazy-or-isn’t-she balancing act that makes the first half-hour subtler and more suspenseful than anything that follows. (The ambiguity is heightened by smart cinematography; Telly’s memories of her son are rendered in vivid sunlit colours that appear more real than the bleak, washed-out hues of her present.) Later on, Moore slips into a more routine groove as her character teams up with a fellow bereaved parent (played by Dominic West) to figure out why nobody else remembers their kids—and why the NSA has taken such an interest in apprehending them.
Their investigation eventually takes them into X-Files territory, and that’s where the film really begins to deteriorate. Director Joseph Ruben, whose previous efforts include other middling thrillers like The Good Son and Sleeping With the Enemy, is obviously trying for a stylistic impression of M. Night Shyamalan. He has good reasons to do this: for one thing, Shyamalan is good at concealing preposterous plot points with understated acting and layers of atmosphere. But Ruben’s attempt is too obvious; the deliberately muted tone, the sudden unexpected moments, and the whispered would-be catchphrase lines (”They’re listening”) are all stuff we’ve seen Shyamalan do better. What Ruben does imitate perfectly, however, is Shyamalan’s post-Sixth Sense tendency not to follow through on a great premise. Like Shyamalan’s Signs (and his more recent The Village), The Forgotten makes for a curiosity-arousing trailer, but fails to deliver on its promises.
On a final note, this might be the first film ever in which characters who have outlived their usefulness literally vanish into thin air before your eyes. The suddenness and swiftness with which this happens makes it easy to overlook how silly it is—at least the first time it happens. On the other hand, it’s also probably the only thing I’ll remember about this film by next week.
(2/4)