With a name like Stoker you may be expecting a vampire
horror flick. Instead, Park presents us
with a film that’s part murder mystery, part gothic fairytale and part erotic
thriller. At its core, this is a deeply
perverse film.
The essence of Stoker is
the loss of innocence – specifically, that of India Stoker (Mia
Wasikowska). When her father dies, her
uncle Charlie (Matthew Goode) unexpectedly arrives on the scene and moves in
with India and her mother Evelyn (Nicole Kidman). What results is a twisted love triangle that
pushes the boundaries of acceptable family relationships: mother and daughter
forced to breaking point as the empty hole left behind in both of their lives
morphs into incestuous desire for Charlie.
“We don’t need to be friends, we’re family”, India tellingly says to her
uncle. Underlying secrets of the family’s
past are slowly uncovered, though its final twist is an obvious one.
Staying true to the Stoker name, the gothic cinematography
is stunningly monochromatic. Paralleling
the narrative, the construction of the film is purposefully unsettling. The events take place in a creepy mansion
that’s crumbling and decaying, the lighting elongating every shadow. The costumes, too, create a distorted sense
of time, mixing India’s old-fashioned smocks with her mother’s colourful
sensuality. Most of all, the stark
colour scheme reflects the loss of innocence: flowers stained with bright blood;
virginity corrupted by sexual fantasy; white tainted by black. Stoker may
not be a true horror film, but its mise en scene ensures a Hitchcockian
tension.
The performers are also well cast. Like Wednesday Addams, Waskowska is all
porcelain skin and lank dark hair, her blank expressions (typical of all her
performances) ensuring she almost fades into the black and white background. In any other performance this would be a
criticism, but for such an introverted character (like Twilight’s Bella Swan,
but with more incest) it works. Kidman
is well suited to her role, balancing sexuality and fragility like a pristine
doll – her flame hair utilised in an extraordinary morphing shot. Goode’s turn as Charlie is suitably
disturbing, his eyes displaying both menacing danger and irresistible charm.
It’s the hyperbolic sound design that most stands out
however, even above the sparse score from Clint Mansell (that additionally includes
pieces by Philip Glass). In a stroke of
the supernatural, India has slightly exaggerated hearing, resulting in a hugely
dynamic aural soundscape – the cracking of egg shells, the ticking of a
metronome, the crescendo of piano playing, the sound of a belt being slowly
removed through trouser loops. It’s
equally unsettling yet weirdly sexual. The
use of sound – more than anything else – conducts our emotions through an
intriguing, if ultimately disappointing, narrative.
3/5
