Very rarely have I enjoyed a film so much right up until an
insanely derivative and preposterous ending completely ruined everything. I can’t think of another time when I was completely
enjoying a film and then suddenly hated it in its last five minutes. Red
Lights is about a young assistant (Cillian Murphy) to a famous debunker of
supernatural phenomena (Sigourney Weaver), who is challenged by the
re-emergence of a legendary psychic (Robert De Niro) from retirement. The exploration of this world – both
professional clairvoyants and the academics who test them – is completely
fascinating. The problem with the film
is that it lays the groundwork for a conclusion that will be utterly satisfying
and then tosses it out the window at the last minute. Imagine if Schindler’s List ended with space aliens landing in Germany to kill
the Nazis with ray guns; (okay, that might actually be kind of fun, but you
know what I’m getting at.) I don’t
believe that this was done arbitrarily by writer/director Cortés; I’m sure it was his plan all
along, but it is still a dreadful mistake.
He veered from what could have been a profound, homogenous film to give
us watered-down M. Night Shayamalan, and pure Shayamalan isn’t that substantial
to begin with. The film doesn’t deserve
to have its “surprise” preserved, but I will do so anyway. It’s only because the movie is so good that
my disappointment in its ending is so great.
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