FilmBlather.com

"WILLARD! There are rats in the basement!"

The poster for Willard is one of the most beguiling pieces of movie artwork that I have ever seen. Against a black background, a barely-lit Crispin Glover stares into the eyes of a gorgeously groomed white rat; beneath them, the tagline reads "From small things comes great power." It captures everything that a remake of the old 1971 hit should have been: gothic, elegant, unsettling, with a sneaky sense of humor. Everything that I had no doubt director Glen Morgan (of X-Files fame) would fail to make it in the interest of appealing to the widest possible audience.

Well, guess what: he doesn't. Willard is being sold as a horror flick, but in reality is something that Tim Burton and David Cronenberg might have thought up over lunch. It is a rare gem, a character study of considerable subtlety aside from being a helluva fun time. While it doesn't wind up being the masterpiece for which it was at one point heading, it is still better than anyone had any right to expect.

Willard Stiles (Glover) is a lonely, neurotic manchild, living with his half-insane mother in a big, wood-paneled house. His boss, Mr. Martin (R. Lee Ermey), stole the company from Willard's father way back when, but Willard continues to work there as a menial paper-pusher, and has to endure Martin's torment every time he is late or falls behind in his work (though that happens suspiciously often). The only person in the world with the slightest concern for his well-being is his co-worker (Laura Elena Harring, the amnesiac in Mulholland Drive), who will occasionally come by the house to check up on him.

On his mother's bequest, Willard sets some mousetraps in the basement, and captures a rather cute white rat. Suddenly overtaken by pity, he saves the rodent and names it Socrates. He soon discovers that Socrates is obeying his instructions, and is able to command a veritable legion of rats to do the same, which opens up some interesting possibilities for revenge. But he has some unexpected competition from a menacing foot-long monster of a rat he monikers Ben, who seems intent on spiting him at every opportunity.

It's interesting that Willard isn't the hero of this movie in any meaningful way. He is a petulant child, not a functional human being, prone to irrational temper tantrums and really rather lazy. But while I sympathized with him, I don't think that I was expected to empathize. This isn't really a story of a nerd's justified retaliation against his tormentors, but a chilling account of a tortured soul who brings about his own undoing.

Crispin Glover is spectacular, of course. I was enamored with the casting of the terrifically cooky actor, best known for playing George McFly, long before I actually saw the film, and he doesn't disappoint. His performance has taken some flack for the over-the-top moments, such as when Willard completely flips out at an estate lawyer in a funeral home, but most people fail to realize that the scene is entirely in character. Some dramatic moments that would ordinarily have been laughable in this context become quietly devastating in Glover's brand of a sort of manic sadness.

Glen Morgan doesn't forget to make this a fun ride for the kiddies as well. Real rats and CGI creatures are blended with seamless aplomb, and there are some great set pieces, most notably one set to a Michael Jackson tune, during which a kitty cat meets a tragic fate. But his work is more notable for keeping the consistent tone of a melancholy freakshow, never surrendering to the instinct to hack'n'slash. Willard is like the best episodes of The X-Files, moody and chilling in the best way.

To borrow a metaphor from David Poland, I spend most of Willard's last act trying to "wave the ball out of the park." It doesn't quite go; the finale is unsatisfying considering what preceded it. I doubt that this movie will make very much money; it's too smart for the audience to which it is being marketed. But I think that if I were making movies, this is almost exactly the movie I would make.