One would be forgiven for believing that the only reasonable reaction to the past couple of years is to hide away in a panic room. A global pandemic, political turmoil, wealth inequality, climate change — the list goes on and on. David Fincher’s films reflect this sentiment with his thrillers exploring themes of alienation and dehumanization in a modern society. As the world grows more isolated and anxiety runs rampant, audiences may see parts of themselves in the director’s troubled and lonely characters.
However, in Fincher’s early work, these character-driven stories were mostly told through a male point of view. Fight Club and Se7en, the ’90s films he is arguably most known for, all revolve around men and their relationships or lack thereof. In these stories, women are only present in the background as plot devices. Fight Club fails to see Marla Singer (Helena Bonham Carter) as an individual and more as a symbol and source of willpower for The Narrator to defeat his inner psychosis while in Se7en, Tracy Mills (Gwyneth Paltrow) only exists to be the dreaded answer to “What’s in the box?”
Many of Fincher’s later films contained more developed depictions of women. Both The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo’s Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara) and Gone Girl’s Amy Dunne (Rosamund Pike) are survivors that process their abuse in complex ways. They’re perfect characters to exist in Fincher’s sinister worlds, exacting revenge on whoever gets in their way. The director’s desaturated color palette envelops the environment with a murky grayness, mirroring the conflicted morality of his female protagonists.
Although Panic Room’s Meg Altman (Jodie Foster) is equally detailed, she stands in stark contrast to Lisbeth and Amy as a relatively normal character. She’s a rich but recently divorced woman trying to start a new life with her daughter, Sarah (Kristen Stewart). Screenwriter David Koepp places Meg in a grounded narrative, beginning as she buys a large house in Manhattan, partly to stick it to her ex-husband, Stephen (Patrick Bauchau). The film follows the mother-daughter pair as they try to protect each other in the house’s panic room and outwit three robbers played by Jared Leto, Forest Whitaker and Dwight Yoakam.
Fincher sets up the character dynamics and rules of the panic room with little to no exposition where everything is instead communicated through dialogue and visuals. The characters are given just enough substance for them to feel relatable. Small moments such as Meg allowing Sarah to drink all of her soda when she expresses disappointment in her father or Jared Leto’s Junior whipping out his crack pipe the moment his plan hits a snag add humanity to the characters. Making ordinary people engaging is a feat that Fincher hadn’t reached until this point in his career, often relying on grotesque interpretations of his characters for intrigue.
Despite the film lacking the typical Fincher grime and gore, it encourages audiences to ask themselves, “What would I do in this situation?” The ways in which Meg and Sarah and the robbers outmaneuver one another is captivating. This is largely due to Foster and Stewart’s strong performances. Their relationship is believable and the way they depend on each other feels realistic where both actresses are able to convey a combination of competency and emotional insecurity that adds necessary depth to their characters.
Perhaps more impressive is the subtle way the film characterizes the intruders. The ambiguities of their backstories provide suspense as the audience is never quite sure what each of them are capable of. Junior is presented as the loose cannon while Raoul is terrifying in his calculating manner. Burnham is the most complex and sympathetic character of the group. He’s conflicted between not harming anyone and getting the money for his child custody battle. Due to the trio’s differing personalities, they don’t work well together and fight among themselves, adding some humor to the narrative.
Regarding the film’s technical aspects, the opening credits float among the buildings in Manhattan like billboards, casting shadows and reflections along the skyline. Paired with Howard Shore’s immense score, it creates a feeling of anxiety as well as demonstrates how space can be controlled. For Fincher, spaces are as important as the characters in the film as the person who manipulates territory within the house holds power over others. Conrad W. Hall and Darius Khondji’s camera pans through the house in one long take, capturing the floor plan as if it was an alternate plane. The panic room itself is shot with closeups, intensifying the feeling of claustrophobia. Inside, Meg and Sarah are secluded from the rest of the world, equally trapped as they are protected.
In this sense, Panic Room is ultimately about isolation. Similar to inside the panic room, Meg feels cutoff after her divorce with only Sarah remaining in her life. Much has been said of the film’s relationship to post-9/11 paranoia where it was released mere months after the attacks. A domestic thriller with a home invasion fed into the distress and uncertainty defined by the era. However, at its heart, Panic Room is a well-executed B-movie in the style of Hitchcock. It’s elevated by Fincher’s technical qualities and Foster and Stewart’s work while its series of tactical plays keeps the film compelling. These qualities make Panic Room a twisted popcorn flick that’s a perfect escape on a Friday night.
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