Excuse me, dear readers, but I must take a moment to say a few words to an old friend of mine—hi there, Detroit. Sigh. How is it that you have come to be defined by rusting American muscle, wide-angle shots of urban decay at the Packard Plant, and people so desperate to escape poverty that they have to turn to crime? I know you well, fair city. You might not recognize me, but I was born in Sinai-Grace Hospital, raised rooting for the Wings and Tigers, and reared on pierogi from Hamtramck and fried ice cream from Mexican Village. I know you’re no longer the city I grew up with, but I also know you’re much more than the black-and-white photo essays of crumbling landmarks in business magazines, or the blight-plagued streets showcased in movies like Don’t Breathe.
But fear not, dear Detroit. Those of us who know you as well as I do realize that you’re on the rise. With high-end downtown shops bloomi
ng, the RiverWalk buzzing with families, and seedling graduates returning to your quiet streets to sprout brick-and-mortar small businesses up through the cracked concrete, I have hope for you yet.
For the rest of you who may not be as well-acquainted with the Motor City, yes, plenty of real-life streets mirror the abandoned, burned-out homes that set the scene in Don’t Breathe. But at the same time, the film presents a sort of white-washed, fictional, almost dream-like Detroit that is not exactly wrong, but I can’t say it’s quite right.
What Director Fede Alvarez does do, however, is create an extremely effective fictional atmosphere for a terrifyingly suspenseful film unlike any I’ve seen in the genre. In Don’t Breathe, we are introduced to a love triangle of 20-something home invaders. Cute blon
de Rocky is desperate to build a new life in California. Pining do-gooder (for a criminal) Alex is eager to do whatever Rocky needs, even if it means sneaking keys from his security-company-employee-dad’s desk to break into homes. And of course we can’t forget Money—who has all the underground connections, enjoys calling his girlfriend Rocky his “bitch,” and is all-too-eager to use his friend Alex to send himself and Rocky westward.
The triad decides on an easy target that could help them all get just what they want for good. Money learns of an old Gulf W
ar veteran who was awarded a hefty lump sum in settlement money after his daughter was killed by a hit-and-run driver. The man lives alone in one of the most abandoned areas of the city, and what’s even better according to Money: he’s blind. What could be easier? But of course as in any good horror film, the story is flipped on its head once the kids enter the old man’s house, and enough twists ensue to exhaust a yogi.
Now I know what you’re thinking. You know how much I prefer ghosty horror films to hide-in-the-closet slasher plots, so you’re expecting me to give this one a big “Meh, see it if you’re into that stuff.” Not this time. What Alvarez does here is just shy of genius. He gets you invested in the c
haracters just enough for you to be dying to know what happens next, but throws in suspenseful plot shifts early and often enough to convince you that it’s hopeless to root for anyone.
Meanwhile, he completely envelops you in his haunting vision for this film. Excellently creative cinematography showcases eerie silhouettes and night vision views, and becomes a plot tool that is even more effective than dialogue. A soundtrack juxtaposing pindrop silence with creaky house noises and rhythmic thumps and bumps immerses you into the film so deeply that half the time you can’t tell whether a character took a step that is about to be his last, or the music is just picking up its pace. Above all, the film showcases a villain who is played quite exquisitely by Stephen Lang as a lethal, burly cross between Clint Eastwood’s Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino and Tom Hardy’s Bane in the Dark Knight Rises. Lang manages to strike real fear as we learn of his character’s ruthlessness and the skeletons in his closet, even despite his inability to see his victims.
And yes, I too am sick of the old scary movie cliché where the main characters get chased up the stairs yet again—how could this possibly be scary, you ask? Well, Alvarez works his magic. He combines classic jump scares at the most unexpected yet satisfying moments with twists that mess with your mind—even a bit too much. There was one twist that went just a bit too far, and had my eyes rolling (and my stomach wrenching) a bit too hard. You’ll know it when you see it, and while I think the film could have done without that scene, Don’t Breathe quickly redeemed itself through to its satisfying end.
Even despite that blip, you absolutely have to catch Don’t Breathe this summer. See it as it was intended—in the theater, late at night, surrounded by strangers jumping out of their seats right along with you.
And Detroit? Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you. I know this film exploits some of your worst features, but I also know the real you. We go way back, my friend, and I’ll swing by soon enough to grab a coney, catch a Lions game (this is our year guys, come on), and stop in at Sister Pie for some sweet treats.
Special K Verdict: Don’t Breathe is suspenseful horror at its finest. I see you, Alvarez, and I can’t wait for your next project.
Don’t Breathe opens Friday, August 26.
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Its trailer had me like whoa. Glad it lives up.