So this is where Ryan Reynolds has been hiding his breakout role. Sure, he has been charismatically cocky in numerous sappy rom-coms, ultimately being the best thing in glossy guff such as The Proposal, and scene stealing in big budget misfires Wolverine and Blade:Trinity. But it has taken being buried alive in a box on a shoestring budget to finally convince us that there is some substance beneath the polished charm.
In a set-up that would have Hitchcock salivating, but is not all that original (I seem to recall a Quentin Tarantino directed episode of CSI that’s very similar), Reynolds plays US contractor Paul Conroy, who was working in Iraq before his convoy was attacked by insurgents and he is confronted with the claustrophobic terror of being buried in a coffin with only a mobile phone, a couple of glow sticks, and a limited supply of oxygen.
With no other actors onscreen it was imperative that the right performer be confined to the coffin, and equally important that the director could sustain Cast Away levels of interest from a single set, single character set-up.
On the first count Buried is revelatory, with Reynolds bringing the right balance of black humour and humanity in order for us to share the unfolding horror with him. He’s at his best when reacting to the many cruel twists of fate that he suffers over 95 relatively brief minutes, in particular one of the cruellest voicemail prompts you are ever likely to hear. But it is a stand-out phone-call to his mother in which he gets the chance to break your heart and finally own the movie.
Director Rodrigo Cortes has the more difficult task of keeping things interesting without jeopardising the authenticity of Conroy’s plight. Reynolds can give the performance of his career (which he does) but it’s all for nothing if the film is dull. So the Spaniard makes the most of signal bars on a mobile phone, and introduces the villainous abductor to make intermittent calls. But nothing can match the opening of the film: pitch black with only the ever-increasing sound of Reynolds’ gasping breath, it sets an intense precedent that the film rarely achieves again.
There is a feeling that the movie begins to run out of ideas, with the initially minimalist indie approach falling foul to rousing music that once again threatens the reality of it all. The biggest fumbles are a stupid twist about half way through that will no doubt get the hair standing on end, but will ultimately generate “where did that come from?” questions, and the very frustrating finale that will prompt the same such inquisition.
Perpetually bleak and so much more than a gimmick, Buried survives beyond its intriguing premise due to a captivating and committed turn from Reynolds, and also signals the arrival of a very talented and confident director.
[etRating value=“ 3”]
In a set-up that would have Hitchcock salivating, but is not all that original (I seem to recall a Quentin Tarantino directed episode of CSI that’s very similar), Reynolds plays US contractor Paul Conroy, who was working in Iraq before his convoy was attacked by insurgents and he is confronted with the claustrophobic terror of being buried in a coffin with only a mobile phone, a couple of glow sticks, and a limited supply of oxygen.
With no other actors onscreen it was imperative that the right performer be confined to the coffin, and equally important that the director could sustain Cast Away levels of interest from a single set, single character set-up.
On the first count Buried is revelatory, with Reynolds bringing the right balance of black humour and humanity in order for us to share the unfolding horror with him. He’s at his best when reacting to the many cruel twists of fate that he suffers over 95 relatively brief minutes, in particular one of the cruellest voicemail prompts you are ever likely to hear. But it is a stand-out phone-call to his mother in which he gets the chance to break your heart and finally own the movie.
Director Rodrigo Cortes has the more difficult task of keeping things interesting without jeopardising the authenticity of Conroy’s plight. Reynolds can give the performance of his career (which he does) but it’s all for nothing if the film is dull. So the Spaniard makes the most of signal bars on a mobile phone, and introduces the villainous abductor to make intermittent calls. But nothing can match the opening of the film: pitch black with only the ever-increasing sound of Reynolds’ gasping breath, it sets an intense precedent that the film rarely achieves again.
There is a feeling that the movie begins to run out of ideas, with the initially minimalist indie approach falling foul to rousing music that once again threatens the reality of it all. The biggest fumbles are a stupid twist about half way through that will no doubt get the hair standing on end, but will ultimately generate “where did that come from?” questions, and the very frustrating finale that will prompt the same such inquisition.
Perpetually bleak and so much more than a gimmick, Buried survives beyond its intriguing premise due to a captivating and committed turn from Reynolds, and also signals the arrival of a very talented and confident director.
[etRating value=“ 3”]
