THE SIXTH SENSE (1999)

“I see dead people.”

Very few lines have injected themselves into the public’s subconscious with such forceful immediacy. The notoriety that M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense garnered was enough to cement it into the annals of cinema history before the year was out. But decades later, after the dust settled around the film that arguably features the most notorious twist in all of film, does the movie still work?

The short answer is yes, but there are caveats. Considering that Shyamalan’s crowning achievement probably enjoys the title of being the most spoiled film ending ever, I imagine many are aware of the twist today without having even watched the film. Indeed, the plot twist had been spoiled for me before I first watched it, meaning I never quite fell in love with the film as a mesmerising illusion like so many did.

This remains a criticism against The Sixth Sense that’s difficult to ignore; it’s a fantastic trick, though the effect lacks reproducibility. Fool me once? Brilliant work, Shyamalan. But as George W. Bush idiotically remarked: “Fool me twice? Well… you can’t get fooled again.” If he were talking about The Sixth Sense, he would have been right. Shyamalan’s film is an excellent riddle, but most riddles become boring once the answer has been divulged.

This begs the question: is it fair to judge a film based on repeated viewings? Perhaps not. A story will wear and tear with time. However, for a retrospective review to make sense, one has to ascertain how well the film works in a historical context, which necessitates a second watch. In re-watching this classic film, I was struck by several things that can only be noticed 25 years after its release.

Some of these issues involve the director, M. Night Shyamalan. Once heralded as the second coming of Steven Spielberg—yes, it seems like a daft comparison in hindsight—his fall from grace was unlike many seen in Hollywood. From being anointed as the next Boy Wonder, only the sixth (and last) person to be nominated for a ‘Best Director’ Academy Award before reaching the age of 30, to being labelled as a hack by the audiences who once stampeded to his films.

His subsequent effort, Unbreakable (2000), proved that he could replicate the formula that made him such a success, pulling the rug from under his audience for two consecutive years. But it was already in his third feature—Signs (2002)—that the cracks were beginning to show, with The Village (2004) acting as the watershed moment of his career; viewers were becoming suspicious this narrative device wasn’t as intelligent as it was made out to be. His next outing would have to stun viewers if he was to get back into the public’s good graces.

Unfortunately, his next directorial endeavour was the abysmal The Lady in the Water (2006), followed by worse films released at two-year intervals: the so-bad-it’s-good The Happening (2008), the so-bad-it’s-just-really-bad The Last Airbender (2010), and the atrocious After Earth (2013). While he may have somewhat revived his career in the late 2010s, he will probably be remembered for his early career highs and the unforgiving precipice he walked off soon afterwards.

The reason why his career downfall is relevant for this article is that the writing was on the wall from the very beginning of his career—bad writing, that is. Shyamalan’s terrible dialogue has frequently been lambasted for being unrealistic, melodramatic, and just outright bizarre. One of the more interesting things about revisiting his most acclaimed work is that the dialogue issues were always present; simply put, a lot of the lines feel forced.

This is present in the opening sequence when Anna Crowe (Olivia Williams) adulates Malcolm’s (Bruce Willis) achievements. It’s the kind of clunky, uncomfortable exposition that clogs up the works: surely no couple talks like this? Similarly, precocious kids are given lines to work with that no child would ever utter outside a Hollywood film. This is also the case in Lynn Sear’s (Toni Collette) monologue, which appears out of the blue and feels like Shyamalan’s best attempt to squeeze in a bit of Hollywood drama.

There are other, slightly less obvious, examples of holes in Shyamalan’s filmmaking. Why would Lynn scream like that just because cupboard doors are open? Why would Malcolm circle the page in pen like that, if not to show the audience that’s the section of the page he was reading? This sounds like grumpy nit-picking—perhaps because it is—but it’s the result of having sat through one too many of Shyamalan’s duds.

This resentment extends to the twist itself. Of course, it is very clever—there’s no denying that. However, in revisiting this work, one’s struck by how many scenes in the film are constructed solely to avoid spoiling the reveal. This makes the first 45 minutes or so slightly dull; we can see what they’re doing, but the magic trick has been revealed. We know how they pull the rabbit out of the hat, and now we feel like unimpressed kids at a boring birthday party.

In this respect, The Sixth Sense doesn’t possess as much bite as other films that feature dramatic revelations towards the end of the story. Some of the best films with a twist, many even having been released around this time—The Usual Suspects (1997), Fight Club (1999), and Memento (2000)—still work on repeated viewings. Even in classic cinema, such as Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), knowledge of the reveal by no means ruins the story.

Suffice it to say, it’s not a hard-and-fast rule that stories with a twist are not as fun in re-watches—but that’s true of The Sixth Sense. I think this is because most of the plot’s functioning is predicated on the viewer not knowing the twist ending. Since the revelation is so great, the hole it leaves in the film feels too wide.

And yet, from an objective point of view, imagining it was my first time watching it, The Sixth Sense is still a great film. Just because it loses some oomph after the twist, one could argue that this is only natural—it’s called a twist for a reason. Watching the film as clinically as possible, it’s irrefutable that the story is incredibly well-structured. Shyamalan knows when to shift weight onto a different plot thread, never staying too long for us to become suspicious that something is amiss.

Additionally, the fact that Shyamalan ticks all the boxes associated with ghosts, without our noticing it, is impressive. The intrigue still lingers in the viewing experience, even if the shock and surprise do not. Malcolm’s re-examining old tapes on his recorder, for instance, still elicits fascination. His frustrated attempts to get into the basement also offer astute insight into what post-mortem existence must feel like; rarely do horror films offer us the ghost’s perspective.

This brings us to one of my qualms with The Sixth Sense: it’s not a horror film, it’s a drama. Yes, it has a supernatural slant, but there’s nothing truly terrifying that takes place in the story. However, I imagine this categorisation error was intentionally done to boost public interest, which it invariably did: Shyamalan’s film became the highest-grossing horror film of all time, usurping Jaws (1975) from its throne.

But particularly in re-watching this gem, it’s evident there’s very little horror at all. Instead, what the film truly appears to be about is a child’s desperate attempts to be understood, to be held, and comforted: “I don’t want to be scared anymore…” It’s a drama in horrific clothing, a coming-of-age tale disguised as a supernatural thriller.

This becomes the film’s greatest accomplishment. Due to our prescience regarding the story’s biggest secret, it allows us to focus on other areas of the film that may have slipped our attention. Though it is the twist that everyone remembers, I would argue that the film’s best moments come from the poignant approach to acceptance, confronting your fears, and saying goodbye to people you love: “Talk to her in her sleep”.

This heartfelt approach to spirituality ensures that The Sixth Sense becomes a more emotional film the second time around. The ethereal happenings that plague Cole Sear (Haley Joel Osment) do not feel scary, but tragic, tinged with an air of sorrow and longing. All of these ghosts are lost souls, merely trying to find peace. The ineffable nature of transcendental experience becomes a powerful motif, with both Bruce Willis and Haley Joel Osment delivering performances worthy of the sombre subtext.

It can be an illuminating experience re-watching a classic film, especially one that has become so iconic since it was first released. The Sixth Sense is a beautifully crafted puzzle box, one that can only truly be solved once, unlike some other cinematic surprises that I have mentioned. It is undeniable that a large hole is left once the reveal is understood. However, perhaps the greatest surprise The Sixth Sense offers on a second viewing is the sheer amount of emotion the film possesses.

A movie featuring such monumental acting is capable of holding your attention even if the main attraction has come and gone. It’s for this reason that the strongest scene is perhaps the moment a mother and son rekindle their relationship, narrowly avoiding becoming estranged ghosts from each other’s past. Shyamalan was very clever in creating such an intricately designed narrative, but the greatest success of the film is not the big brain behind it… but the heart.

USA | 1999 | 108 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • LATIN • SPANISH

Cast & Crew

writer & director: M. Night Shyamalan.
starring: Bruce Willis, Haley Joel Osment, Toni Collette, Olivia Williams, Donnie Wahlberg, Glenn Fitzgerald, Mischa Barton, Trevor Morgan & Bruce Norris.