Schmoozette

I had moderately high hopes for this pic, which apparently didn't gain a lot of traction. I looked forward to the terrific cast, and when we finally get inside the house, sure enough, two greats, Eileen Heckart and Burgess Meredith, deliver the goods. Oh, how I wish they appeared in more scenes! I thought, even if this movie isn't the greatest, at least the cast looks like they're having fun, including Bette Davis. But as time went on, the pacing got bogged down, and lacked some reasonable (even ghostly) logic in characters' actions. The suspense just died along the line, and then it was wait, wait, wait, for what ultimately culminated in a depressingly predictable ending. Kudos to Lee Montgomery for playing a realistic, unannoying kid. However, after a while, it was really hard to look at Oliver Reed's constantly suffering face. Karen Black brought some life to the party, but it was underwritten and I couldn't get over the fact that all she did at this "vacation" house was be a wife, mother, housekeeper. Even in the 1970s--what? (And what happened to the groundskeeper, anyway?) So--started out intriguing, so delightful seeing the pros interact, but then fell sharply down an unfrightening, unoriginal, predictable rabbit hole.

I love the 1947 Nightmare Alley, and I would have loved it even without the tacked on "happy" ending. But del Toro is much more wrapped up in atmosphere and grotesqueries than depictions of characters with clear motives. The 1947 version was sharp, snappy, and you couldn't take your eyes off the manipulative Stan. And Molly was so beautiful, so innocent, that her belief in the treacherous Stan is heartbreaking. The tension lasted from beginning to end. But in del Toro's film, everyone seems to be sleepwalking--compare Toni Colette's performance to Joan Blondell's--and with overlong scenes, overly graphic violence, and overcooked psychology, it drags on, and becomes the worst possible thing--boring. The cinematography, art direction, and costumes are great. But the storyelling gets lost in drawn-out scenes, some of which were unecessary to begin with. Sorry, Guillermo, but you were too in love with your grotesqueries to tell a riveting, effective story. A stellar cast wasted.