Movie Review ~ Cellphone

What I’ve come to appreciate about international horror movies is how they don’t necessarily put horror as the focus point of their narratives. Sure, a good scare is part of the fun, and filmmakers like Guillermo del Toro (The Devil’s Backbone) and J.A. Bayona (The Orphanage) got their start frightening the pants off audiences with their terrific tales that crawled under your skin and wriggled around, sending shivers up your spine. Strangely, this trend hasn’t transferred on a larger scale to American features, with rare exceptions like David Bruckner’s The Night House being one of those unique occasions where the movie marketed as terrifying has something more to say than you might initially think.

With that in mind, I’ll say that siblings Luke and Rachel Sommer have at least attempted to branch out from the norm with their new film, Cellphone. Directed by Luke from Rachel’s script and based on their original 8-minute short from 2012, this is an ultra-low-budge effort with all the bells and whistles to indicate it’s a freaky flick about a mobile device that’s ‘gonna getcha’ but truly has more to do with unresolved grief than eliciting shrieks. That it can’t ever decide what it wants to be is its downfall, though, and the result is a production that falters at every turn, coming up short of even the most forgiving of standards.

Hired to watch over an isolated farmhouse for an eccentric boss (She Will’s Malcolm McDowell, who quite literally phones in his performance and is only seen in pictures), Wynne (Whitney Rose Pynn) agrees to the responsibility partly to help her move forward after the recent tragic death of her fiancé. Wynne is constantly on the phone with someone, either McDowell’s character or an unseen confidant who is obviously used to her dialogue, which consists almost entirely of exposition.  She isn’t in the house long before she starts the hear bumps in the night, sees moving shadows in the hall, and glimpses ghostly distortions through the camera of her cellphone that don’t match what is right in front of her.

All these incidents trigger the dormant grief she has yet to process, and she begins reading so far into the apparitions that she believes it has something to do with her fiancé and not the ghost that supposedly haunts the house. A creaky prologue has already told us the previous inhabitants didn’t meet the most pleasant end, so it becomes a waiting game of sitting through endless scenes of roundabout dialogue to see how things turn out. Only after Wynne and an odd man (Justin Jackson) she discovers looking for copper pipe in the adjacent barn (don’t ask) dig deeper do we find some answers…and by then, you’ll have long since wanted to hang up.

There’s an interesting premise to explore in Cellphone, but the Sommers don’t seem to be able to find a coherent thread and stick with it for long. The homespun filmmaking predominantly works in its favor, giving it a distinct look visually but further exposing its lack of narrative depth and a compelling plot. While the collaboration between the siblings may suggest some laudable familial synergy, what has been delivered indicates a lack of constructive feedback and the ability to step back far enough to give their film a rigorous critical review. Each time I felt like the movie was finding emotional stakes that would boost it significantly, it would lose steam with scenes that felt imported from another film/genre.

Managing a modicum of charm, I’d be interested to see what Pynn could do with a better script and direction. She’s an engaging presence onscreen and can hold a one-sided conversation with a cellphone like a champ, but despite her best efforts, she’s never given the freedom to find a core to the character to grasp onto.  Paired with Jackson’s weirdly Wonka-esque interloper that appears out of nowhere and continues to show up when least expected, Pynn does her darndest to be gracious in scenes with her offbeat costar that consistently feels misaligned. There’s chemistry between Pynn and Jackson, but it’s not what the Sommers were going for in this curiously stagnant blend of horror and mystery.

Uninspired even in its mediocrity, Cellphone’s attempt at scares is tepid at best and positively frigid when locating its emotional point. Viewers are advised to opt for a title from a filmmaker with more clout and a proven track record in balancing how to make you scream and wring a tear out of you within the same reel. Consider Cellphone an unfortunate butt dial.