Sometime in the late 2000s, , takes on a similar challenge to that film’s heavy emotionality. Every moment of his uncompromising Andrew is starkly believable. And as Wen, Cui becomes Knock at the Cabin’s beating heart. To qualify her performance would almost be a disservice to it, but Cui is nothing short of outstanding in her feature film debut.
But it’s Bautista who shows up to once again prove himself a surprise. As Leonard, Bautista is just phenomenal—funny, intimidating, and treacherous all at the same time. He knows just how to emit the kind of terror that’s so much sickening fun to revel in, making him a perfect foil to Groff and Aldridge.
“Detailing what happens at that ending—and whether or not the director is able to leave behind his most infamous twisty trope—wouldn’t be fair to his best work in years.”
Occasionally, Shyamalan starts to get in his own way, veering on overkill with his favorite directorial standbys. Uniquely framed shots become less special the more they’re repeated, and his penchant for close-ups almost renders the anxiety of the tight framing ineffective. But the rails of this ride never start to spark, and Shyamalan remains focused all the way through to the end. Detailing what happens at that ending—and whether or not the director is able to leave behind his most infamous twisty trope—wouldn’t be fair to his best work in years. But the lack of hushed disappointment of audience members exiting the theater should be enough to suggest that Shyamalan managed to tighten the reins. Even fans of Tremblay’s novel will be surprised by the director’s handling of such a bleak story.
Knock at the Cabin wears its inspirations on its sleeve, with sequences that recall fantastic horror-thrillers of years past. At times, you could even make a game out of it. There’s The Mist! Oh, and Funny Games. Look, it’s Mother! and The Strangers! But the movie never comes off like mimicry. Instead, it feels classically pulp, like it’s adapted from an old-fashioned novela that scared the wits out of readers back in the 1930s. Yet, it’s distinctly modern, with allegorical messaging that certainly seems like a sign of the times.
Shyamalan’s latest longs to find meaning in tragedy on both a global and intensely personal scale. After all, the two are often interlinked. Humanity has spent the last three years choosing whether or not to believe the warnings given to us. We’ve learned that our most minuscule choices have the potential for a far wider, deleterious impact. Knock at the Cabin recognizes that all humans are capable of intense violence and true good—as well as everything in between. But as the intruders say over and over to Andrew, Eric, and Wen: These are choices we cannot make alone.
