Review: "The Djinn"

 

"The Djinn" is small, spare and scary as hell.

At just 81 minutes, this horror film unfolds in a single, cramped apartment. A mute boy of about age 11 has just moved in with his single dad. He discovers an old book of spells in the closet that belonged to the previous resident, an elderly man who died there, including one to grant one's "wish of desire." 

Dylan's (Ezra Dewey) wish is the most obvious choice: he would like to have a voice of his own. It's never explicitly stated how he lost the one he had, as his hearing is fine and he only uses American Sign Language to speak. We are shown a large, off-putting Y-shaped scare on his chest, and are left to infer the rest ourselves.

The spell in the "Book of Shadows" seems easy enough: light a candle an hour before midnight, put three drops of blood into it and speak an incantation. A djinn, or immortal spirit of the shadow world, will manifest and attempt to claim your soul. If you can make it to the stroke of the witching hour, the wish will be granted... one way or another.

The movie spends about 20 minutes setting up this little world, and then the hour in question plays out in real time. It is one of the most terrifying I can remember in a long while.

Rob Brownstein plays Dylan's dad, Michael, and what a perfect combination of casting and performance. He is middle-aged, calm and gentle, and the love for his son is at the center of his universe. With his deep, reassuring voice -- Michael is a radio DJ working the grave shift -- he lets Dylan know that he is perfect just as he is.

Dylan has a lot of nerves and trauma surrounding his mother. At one point he asks his father if she would still have "gone away" if he wasn't different from other kids. Later he has visions of her standing in the kitchen of their old place wearing a nightgown, an indelible image we'll not soon forget.

The djinn is more heard and felt than seen, at least for awhile. It takes corporeal form in an interesting way, which I'll leave to you to find out. Its spirit leaves its mark through black swirls of smoke that snake around objects in an almost seductive way. When Dylan manages to inflict harm on the djinn, its physical shell wants to return to that state, almost like chalk dissolving in liquid.

Dylan's apartment is practically another character in the movie, one of those typical low-end stacked boxes with just a couple of common rooms, a bath and two cramped bedrooms. The boy smartly uses every nook and cranny to his advantage, hiding here, trapping the djinn there. 

It's nice to experience a scary movie --featuring a kid, at that -- where you're not constantly yelling at the characters to stop doing the stupidest, most obvious thing.

This is the second feature film for the directing/screenwriting team of David Charbonier and Justin Powell after their somewhat similarly-themed "The Boy Behind the Door" last year. As young filmmakers they've already got a masterly sense of how to use confined space and time to ratchet up the tension and fear. 

They're carefully building the suspense puzzle piece by painstaking piece, not relying on cheap "boo gotcha" scares -- the commonest of crutches for untalented or lazy storytellers.

For example, Dylan has asthma, and one of the ongoing trigger points is that his breathing will start to lock up and he has to figure a way to get past the creature and find his inhaler.

The filmmakers make very good use of the music by Matthew James and photography by Julián Estrada, adding to the pervading mood of claustrophobia. I especially liked how different light sources and reflections shift and play out around the spaces, making us feel like we're comfortable with the layout and then tricking us into doubting our own perceptions.

Dewey is flat-out terrific as Dylan, especially when you consider it's a wordless performance that requires just the emotions that play out on his face to convey to the audience what he's thinking. The character has no narration or inner voice to communicate with us -- just a fabulous young actor. 

"The Djinn" is a very tight piece of filmmaking, every little piece contributing to the greater sum with zero superfluous elements to distract or degrade the experience. As movies seem to have gotten longer and fatter in recent years, how I've wished for something leaner like this.