A film titled after the dimensions of a soundproof cell hidden behind a fake wall in a private home sounds like a recipe for claustrophobic chamber horror. One would also reasonably expect most of the action and psychological chills to take place within those padded walls. But despite an abrupt, relatively unnerving abduction scene in its opening minutes, 10×10 opts for a melodramatic thriller angle rather than psychological horror. A decent setup for what could otherwise be some twisted mind games gets frittered away on a contrived plot twist.
The directorial debut of Suzi Ewing, 10×10 makes an early effort to establish Cathy (Kelly Reilly) as a goody two-shoes, someone who bumps contemporary Christian tunes in her car and wrinkles her nose at the prurient suggestion that a yoga instructor is someone to lust over. But there’s more to her than meets the eye, and only one man knows it. After quietly stalking her movements, Lewis (Luke Evans) makes his move in the parking lot, binding Cathy with zip ties, duct-taping her mouth and then stuffing her into the trunk of his car in broad daylight. He drives her to his sprawling, impeccably designed home in the country and locks her in the secret padded cell.
Lewis doesn’t want Cathy’s body or her money, however. Instead, he asks only for one thing: her real name. It quickly becomes clear that, despite the meticulously constructed holding cell, Lewis isn’t a seasoned criminal. He gets clobbered over the head many times and Cathy often manages to temporarily escape—and all before the need to eat, drink or use a toilet, apparently. Letting the story play out in a single afternoon, before an abductee even needs a sip of water, seems like a confounding waste of the chilling implications of forced confinement.
As Lewis’ motivations for the kidnapping—which are linked to a personal tragedy for which he blames Cathy (if that is her real name)—begin to come into focus, the moral lines become blurred. But none of the tension in this film is allowed to rise beyond a lukewarm simmer. The film is content to follow the expected beats: Cathy snags her cell phone back but struggles to get service; a car unexpectedly pulls up into the driveway and Lewis has to scramble to make excuses for the mess; a lone empty chamber of a loaded gun comes back into play.
Though the film manages a few moments of genuine tension, Ewing muddles the pacing. Despite running under 90 minutes, there’s so little substance here beyond a tiresome series of verbal and physical confrontations that the film feels overlong. And yet we’re led to believe that a man with the singular focus necessary to build a sound-proof cell within his home doesn’t have much of a plan once he locks Cathy within it. And it’s implausible—and damaging to any sense of claustrophobic terror—that Cathy can repeatedly escape the cell but, somehow, not the enormous house itself. Instead of heady mind games, 10×10 opts for unremarkable hand-to-hand combat scenes and heaps of expository dialogue. Once the twist is revealed halfway through, it’s a slog to get to an unrealistic and unfulfilling conclusion.
The post 10×10 appeared first on Spectrum Culture.
