I've been watching a lot of these '90s steamy neo-noir thrillers lately (others include China Moon and Dream Lover) and for a good portion of its running time, it seems as though Shattered is set to be one of the better ones. This is due in no small part to Wolfgang Petersen's stylish direction. The repeated motif of glass shards spinning through the darkness in slow motion reminds one of some of the more expressionistic sequences in film noir from the '40s, where square-jawed heroes were getting beaten up or drugged and their descent into unconsciousness was shown in violent Freudian montages of spider-webs, doors to nowhere, and endless plummeting through shadow.
Things unravel pretty quickly near the end as solutions are provided. I can imagine some of these outlandish plot contrivances working okay in a novel from the '60s, where you'd be inclined to interpret them more abstractly, but in the cold light of '90s cinematography it all feels nonsensical and unsatisfying. Unless the whole movie is meant to be one long fever dream experienced by the patient in a coma following the opening car crash.
Tom Berenger is okay, if wooden, in the lead role. Bob Hoskins is fantastic as usual as a pet-store-owning private detective; he can always go pretty far over the top in his performances while still seeming real, and he's a lot of fun to watch as this colorful and sympathetic supporting character. Joanne Whalley is rather intriguing but under-utilized as the wide-eyed astrologer who has misgivings about Dan's seemingly attentive, loving wife; it's hard to pin down whether she's the only one willing to tell the truth or if she's simply more deluded than anyone.
After the scenes depicting that beach in Mexico, I'll never look at a bottle of Ocean Spray the same way.
Things unravel pretty quickly near the end as solutions are provided. I can imagine some of these outlandish plot contrivances working okay in a novel from the '60s, where you'd be inclined to interpret them more abstractly, but in the cold light of '90s cinematography it all feels nonsensical and unsatisfying. Unless the whole movie is meant to be one long fever dream experienced by the patient in a coma following the opening car crash.
Tom Berenger is okay, if wooden, in the lead role. Bob Hoskins is fantastic as usual as a pet-store-owning private detective; he can always go pretty far over the top in his performances while still seeming real, and he's a lot of fun to watch as this colorful and sympathetic supporting character. Joanne Whalley is rather intriguing but under-utilized as the wide-eyed astrologer who has misgivings about Dan's seemingly attentive, loving wife; it's hard to pin down whether she's the only one willing to tell the truth or if she's simply more deluded than anyone.
After the scenes depicting that beach in Mexico, I'll never look at a bottle of Ocean Spray the same way.