drworm-1

This first installment of Crispin Glover's personal magnum opus asks you to think a little, and so can't be recommended for any viewer who doesn't want to sit and puzzle over Glover's imagery or follow the surprisingly simple—but weirdly obfuscated—thread of his narrative. To the more casual viewer, yes, it's probably going to come off as a confusing mish-mash of odd, startling, and disturbing imagery for imagery's sake.

You get the sense that Glover doesn't mind that this is the case, and he'll almost as gladly listen to why someone hated the film as to why they enjoyed it. Glover's innate eagerness for and about his work and how audiences interpret it is strongly communicated not only through the film itself, but also through the unusual question and answer sessions that he frequently conducts following showings; he clearly hopes that people will continue to think about what he has presented.

The easiest way to interpret and dismiss the film is to label it as Dada or nihilist, a juvenile attack on the modern movie industry from an actor who's worked both without and within. But there's a reason why Glover performs his slideshow before showing his movie, and it's not only to sell books; his books juxtapose and create a narrative from images and text that Glover pieced together, and What Is It? does similarly with imagery drawn from Western culture.

What Is It? is an endearing and compelling film in ways one hardly expects while viewing. Much has already been made about Glover's use of actors with Down's syndrome, and indeed that is one of the most initially striking aspects of the film. So jarring, in fact, that many seem to interpret it as some sort of far-reaching crusade to see a more realistic and/or dignified portrayal of the disabled in movies and television—or, on the absolute other end of the spectrum, as a kind of direct exploitation of the disabled. But it's not either, and maybe that's part of what makes this film so uncomfortable for many: the underlying agenda is not a political one or one of hatred, but one of looking beyond the mainstream culture into a kind of outsider ugliness. It's not a film about Down's syndrome, but it is a film that is owned by the actors with Down's syndrome who appear in it.

I'm the sort of person who is entirely gung-ho when it comes to ugliness and strangeness being portrayed so starkly that it is beautiful; happily for me, this is pretty much exactly how What Is It? presents itself to viewers. Glover uses the strange images of snails, death, and the disabled in part because he wants his audience to feel discomfort at either the sheer oddness of the imagery or the visceral reaction one has to the dying screams of an anthropomorphized snail. In some ways, the weirdly compelling (and occasionally downright grotesque) elements of What Is It? remind me of the work of the painter Francis Bacon… he of the infamous popes, yes, and the odd distortions of the human figure that inevitably make viewers cringe and want to look away. Like Bacon's paintings, Glover's film manages to be opulent and humble, grainy and polished, chaotic and well-realized… and the contradictions help to make it all the more disconcerting. But still this is not an entirely serious film, and it largely manages to sidestep the greatest pitfalls of pretension through the use of humor that, for the most part, derives from the use (and juxtaposition) of familiar items, images, and names of popular culture. And when What Is It? is funny, it is very funny.

Overall, What Is It? is an impressive first film from Glover as a director and writer, and his presence as an actor in the film proves not to be nearly the distraction one might expect it to be. Watching it is like being an observer in the kind of dream that isn't exactly good or bad, but just strange… and that leaves you feeling slightly grimy when you wake up. If that's the kind of art you enjoy, What Is It? is likely to exceed your expectations and be well-worth the effort of catching it in the theatre, along with The Big Slide Show and Glover himself. All in all, it's an experience you're unlikely to forget any time soon.

People who hated this movie went to see it with the preconceived notion that rats would be doing a lot bloodier leg work for Willard. What they got was a movie wherein Crispin Glover kisses his best rattie friend and slowly ambles toward insanity.

Willard has flaws, and plenty of them, but they rarely detract from what is, at heart, a psychological parable and subtle love story. Crispin Glover's performance is one of his most genuinely human and believable, evoking ugly emotions rarely seen in Hollywood, while still retaining a manic kind of dignity.

You can hardly fault New Line for marketing Willard as a horror flick, since that is what would inevitably sell better. But Willard is really more of a movie for people who genuinely like rats, not those who fear them. It's a movie for people who find greater horror in failure and abuse and solitude than buckets of blood and gore. Willard is the kind of movie that aims to make you uncomfortable, but not truly horrified. It uses few of the common elements of the horror movie, including graphic violence, deformity, fear of the unknown, and sudden, unexpected movement or loud noises to propel you from your seat. It is slow moving and subtle, and often uses crude humor to detract from the more creepy moments. It shows itself as a juvenile in those moments, a child who has put on his father's suit and is masquerading as a serious adult. It is much like the character of Willard, in that sense, and the coincidence is almost admirable.

The movie is unquestionably more subtle, evocative, and well-crafted than its predecessor; it is also more faithful to the original novel, Ratman's Notebooks, than the version starring Bruce Davison. It's a dubious honor, some might say.

Willard deserves no prizes, but it is well-made to be what it is... not a horror movie, nor a drama, nor a thriller. It's an intimate little movie about a boy and his rat, and it is all the better for it.