Film Review: Pontypool
Pontypool (2009)
Release Date: May 29, 2009
Directed By: Bruce McDonald
Cast: Stephen McHattie, Lisa Houle, Georgina Reilly, Hrant Alianak
Review By: Marc Patterson
In William S. Burroughs seminal novel “The Ticket that Exploded” he contends that language itself is a virus, that we can’t help ourselves but to talk, that to simply stop all communication on all levels, internally and externally for even a period as brief as ten seconds is impossible. Burroughs penned this in 1962. Today, in this day and age of mass communication with our iPhones, and Blackberry’s this theory may hold more truth than ever. Burroughs concludes (if you can say that any of his early work makes a cognitive conclusion towards any lucid thought) that “Communication must become total and conscious before we can stop it”.
I haven’t read Tony Burgess’ book “Pontypool Changes Everything”, and cannot attest to the apparent influence by the drug induced rambling theories of Burroughs, but would have to say there is a great parallel that draws these two together. And this is where our story in Pontypool, Ontario Canada begins. A quiet morning with a missing cat named “Honey”. A simple sample, a term of endearment, a word whispered, and a virus ignited.
Grant Mazzy (McHattie) is a gruff big city DJ with plenty of dirt in his voice. He’s adjusting to the nuances of small town talk radio, with no ease. Stirring equal parts of controversy into the airwaves as he does liquor into his morning coffee, he butts heads with his producer Sydney Briar (Houle) and raises the blood pressure of his listeners.
On this particular morning, a morning just the same as any other, frozen, dark, cold and snowy, Mazzy rambles his way to work when a woman accosts him on the side of the road. Crazy perhaps. And he ignores her. But he doesn’t forget her.
The workday begins in the dismal and dreary confines of the church basement based radio station, and it is here from which we will remain for the duration of the film. Mazzy postulates and proselytizes his thoughts over the air without censor. His producer pleads with him to cut to school closings, give the listeners a little normalcy. Mazzy ignores her.
Soon increasingly horrific and shocking reports begin blowing in, of a mob attacking a doctor’s office, a hostage situation by the lake. Scattered madness from various sources surge while our team never lay witness to the havoc itself. Mazzy feeds the madness on the air, trying to report and make sense of the chaos. Is this real? Is it an Orson Wells styled hoax by anger listeners who have had enough of Mazzy? Or is the world really going to hell? As the horror closes in on the station it becomes clear that there very much is something terrifying happening in the world, and the words spoken, muttered, and mumbled seem to be at the core of the madness.
Pontypool is simply stated a mind blowing cinematic experience. It represents the flawless combination of smart narrative, tense action and old school thrills, attacking your intellect without being overly heady. It is the best film you’ll intently listen to all the way through. The opening narration alone will send chills through your bones. McHattie’s voice is insidiously creepy and envelops you into a blanket of words and sounds perfectly introducing us to the horror that is about to unfold. Intensity provides the dramatic underscore. I was immediately reminded of the rich masterful storytelling styling’s of John Houseman, who you’ll remember from The Fog. McHattie’s punctuated speech becomes the central character in this film, making Pontypool the creepiest film I’ve seen in ages.
Understanding how to NOT understand is central to this story and the script is sharp, yet simple, focused on perfectly providing a stage where your ears become more important than your eyes, and your understanding far more intently engaged. To survive the film you must commit yourself to the film in every hair of your being.
The underlying sub-text about how we speak, and the meaning of language, runs as rampant as the crazed zombie-like creatures, and while it can be just as fun to get caught up in the mayhem there is a more prevailing thought being doled out. To destroy the virus you must destroy language itself and in doing so we may find a valuable lesson. Silence may very well save us all.
Brutal As Hell Rating:
4 out of 5
