Dr. Juliet Devereau, working out of Brooklyn General Hospital as an ER and OR physician, needs an apartment real bad. This is understandable since currently (at the start of the movie) she's staying at a hotel in a move of exigency after breaking up with a cheating boyfriend. She understandably needs some time and a place to heal; to sort things out; get her bearings; and possibly re-chart her life. So a nice place that she could settle into and call home would be a big --even "critical" help to her at this time.
Juliet arrives at a building that looks better inside than out. She goes in, takes the elevator up. The door to the apartment is slightly ajar and a machine noise of some kind is coming from within. She goes in, sees the walls are covered with plastic, and traces the noise to a spacious room where some guy in a mask is doing some sanding work on the floor. Apparently the place is under repair and so there are no furnishings; just the various things and sundry you would expect to see under the circumstances. Alerted by her voice, the guy switches off the machine and she explains that someone called about a rental.
The guy (Max) turns out to be the owner of the building. He's "George Clooneyish" with a grayish beard, dis-harming smile and affable manner. The place is huge and spacious and Juliet is hesitant that she could afford it but Max gives her a price that's within her means. She grabs it after being assured there were no catches beyond bad cell phone reception, a noisy train, and high heating bills in the winter. Shortly, he helps her to move in and in the course of this they run into Max's grandfather August (Christopher Lee; sight for sore eyes). The look he gives his grandson is significant. And the look that Max returns might as well have said, "Yeah, I know I'm a sicko, but I can't help it."
Moved in, Juliet is now able to relax and unwind; treat herself to a luxurious bath and catch up on much needed sleep. The apartment at night assumes a "gothic old mansion" like quality with a sense of secrets and something lurking. And why not? Mad Max has got the whole place rigged with a 2-way mirror, spy holes, and secret accesses. Along with sensuous shots of Juliet that might make some of us in the audience feel uncomfortably complicit, the cinematography also takes us behind the walls; into wall spaces, and into service areas of the building where the sounds there eerily create the impression that the building is also somehow a "living co-conspirator". The turning of an exhaust fan, for example, seems almost diabolical; like part of a great mechanical trap. It is easy to get the idea that Juliet has not actually moved into an apartment building but essentially into an elaborate snare made to look like one.
Hilary Swank looks great; toned, shapely, and fit. A fact that we ironically voyeuristically appreciate at the top of the movie as she jogs thru the park about 8 minutes or so before we are taken to that other level of voyeurism: the sick, obsessed, predatory-type. Movie producers have a long history of using many of humanity's shameful shortcomings as fodder for their creativity and this is just another instance. I thought the movie was entertaining and disturbing as we watch 2-faced Max act like Mr. nice guy when he was with Juliet --and when not-- moving troll-like behind the scenes using his cavern-like wall spaces and secret accesses. --And later, as well, when his behavior escalates to a brazen and desperate level after he realizes Juliet's heart belongs to someone else. I understand the subject matter is not to everyone's taste, but if you like women-in-peril movies in general, and don't mind THIS type of peril, then I think it's worth seeing. Love, Boloxxxi.
