THE CELL (2000)
An FBI Agent persuades a social worker to enter the mind of a comatose serial killer in order to learn where he's hidden his latest kidnap victim.

An FBI Agent persuades a social worker to enter the mind of a comatose serial killer in order to learn where he's hidden his latest kidnap victim.
Upon the release of The Cell, the feature film debut from Tarsem Singh (known professionally as Tarsem) proved incredibly divisive. Despite presenting a unique experience through its visuals, this was an odd, uneven, and beguiling mix of a gritty police procedural, in the vein of David Fincher’s Se7en (1995), and a fantasy where people’s psyches are transformed into a cinematic playground of awe-inspiring costumes and backdrops.
The film follows child psychologist Dr Catherine Deane (Jennifer Lopez), who’s attempting to use an experimental virtual reality programme to enter coma patients’ minds and heal them in this ethereal zone, thus drawing them out of this state they’ve been sequestered in. She’s suddenly given an unusual task by special agent Peter Novak (Vince Vaughn), who wants her to enter the mind of Carl Rudolph Stargher (Vincent D’Onofrio), a comatose serial killer whose latest victim, a young woman, is trapped in an unknown location where she has been left to slowly drown to death. It is up to Catherine to tunnel down the dark psyche of this deranged and sadistic figure, gain his trust, and acquire information about his murder chamber’s whereabouts to save this woman.
From the get-go, Tarsem doesn’t waste a single moment when it comes to injecting this unique story with his visual flair. If this fictional universe before our eyes isn’t a hellish or beautiful mindscape that feels as if it contains limitless possibilities, then the very real world of the police officers’ exploits is replete with flashy camerawork and satisfying framing to keep viewers invested. It feels as if this director is constantly working overtime to ensure every scene is as engaging as possible, hoping that this alone can create a worthwhile cinematic experience. It does, generally speaking. But by never allowing himself to look at the bigger picture (a fact that becomes more obvious thanks to the illuminating interview footage and audio commentary supplied with Arrow Video’s new 4K Ultra Blu-ray), even the real-world aspects of the film feel like yet another extended dream sequence that these characters are unable to wake up from.
It would seem that the sum total of value placed on individual scenes was in terms of how effective they are in a vacuum, rather than whether or not they’re appropriate at their given place in this story. The Cell forms an expectation that the idealistic Deane and the more bitterly pragmatic Novak will form something of a bond, at least enough for their contrasting moral perspectives to be tested. But the pair only interact twice in the real world, with their final moment together suggesting a connection that the rest of this film hasn’t supplied. As for Stargher, who is in many ways The Cell’s main character, his absurdly creepy behaviour in the real world is ridiculous enough to feel like it’s part of a dream state, dampening the weight of the hellish landscapes that comprise his psyche when Deane tunnels down them.
The first half of the movie, which is consistently entertaining and surprisingly absorbing given how the audience is left waiting for the narrative to fall into place, ends up being a series of excuses for the real story to kick into gear. This is when Deane can head down this dark rabbit hole and uncover who Stargher really is, in a series of impressive sequences that are held back by a rather heavy-handed portrayal of childhood trauma. When Tarsem essentially stages this film as a series of music videos, with each new backdrop presenting yet another vibrant scene to marvel at, The Cell is momentarily able to saunter past its lack of substance. But there eventually comes a point where the flashiness and endless creativity of its director stops being compelling, especially in the film’s final stretch, with scenes so weightless and silly that there’s hardly anything holding them together.
That distinct lack of connective tissue between scenes, plots, and genres makes for a bewildering mash-up of styles and tones. It also means that the race against time to save this young woman isn’t just severely lacking in tension, it’s easily forgettable amidst the film’s emphasis on fantastical imagery. Thankfully, these location and costume designs are mostly stunning, going a long way towards making up for The Cell’s profound lack of interest in its general plot. Tarsem and screenwriter Mark Protosevich’s emphasis on redeeming a serial killer character is admirable for its empathy, but that plotline, which is really the only part of the story that this film cares about, also loses steam in its final moments.
The supplementary interview material provided with this Blu-ray sheds some light on the film’s storytelling missteps. Tarsem’s creativity is never in doubt, but what is surprising about hearing the filmmaker discuss his work is the avid enthusiasm that it evokes in him. There’s a streak of spontaneity in this vibrant filmmaker, which suffers in a narrative sense given how disturbing elements of The Cell are. When one hears how flippantly and heartily the director discusses such violent moments, it becomes clear why these deficiencies hamper the movie’s quality. Some intelligent choices made to re-work the film also highlight its weak points, such as a lacklustre final scene that is oddly inexpressive on a visual level given its director’s creative spark (and the fact that it takes place in the world of dreams). When he relates that this was a scrapped scene that was originally set to take place roughly midway through The Cell, its inconsistencies and lack of visual splendour suddenly make perfect sense.
Tarsem’s direction shines in The Cell, with gorgeous imagery that is bound to stick out in viewers’ minds days after experiencing the film. Despite this, in his feature film debut he mostly comes across as a talented director of individual moments, but not necessarily a great filmmaker. This leads to thrilling moments, but they’re just as much a hindrance to the final product as they are a compliment regarding his abilities. The director’s follow-up film, The Fall (2006), also suffers from its discrepancies between fantasy and reality, but not nearly so much, since great care was taken to ensure that the realistic portions of that film weren’t just interesting, but also contained plenty of authentic emotion and earned pay-offs. When Deane and Novak do interact in The Cell, there’s something worth investing in, but neither Tarsem nor Protosevich seize upon this opportunity. As for how Lopez and Vaughn handle this material, neither of them are particularly distinctive. They sell their respective roles well but are outshone by D’Onofrio as the standout talent, whose fearless performance is impressively varied (and bonkers).
Certain sequences that are frankly insane are still a joy to watch regardless of the end product they’re packaged in. Experiencing Novak’s introduction to the world of VR mind-jumping comes across as this director’s reimagining of the mind-bending sequence of flashing colours in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), bracing viewers for a thrilling experience ahead. Although it never quite pays off in the end, with many resulting scenes being far too flimsy for their own good, at least they are never boring. Whatever predominant feeling viewers come away from after watching The Cell, I would question anyone who refers to it as a dull experience. It is a muddled one, though, prioritising style over substance from beginning to end in an experiment that’s well worth watching, but which is impossible to love when it repels deeper investment in its story.
GERMANY • USA | 2000 | 107 MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH
director: Tarsem Singh.
writer: Mark Protosevich.
starring: Jennifer Lopez, Vince Vaughn, Vincent D’Onofrio, Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Dylan Baker, Jake Thomas, Jake Weber, James Gammon & Tara Subkoff.