As a movie fan, there can be little more dispiriting than feeling like you’re in a film era that’s so filled with franchises, remakes, sequels, and comic book films that there’s little room for originality. Watching great movies like The Nice Guys fade out without anyone noticing can be depressing. And as a horror fan, the problem can be even worse, with more and more horror fans turning to independent and fringe films in the hopes of finding something original, weird, and unsettling.
And yet, the astonishingly weird, atypical, surreal A Cure for Wellness proves that the studio system can still surprise you sometimes, even if it’s entirely possible that this is a fluke that won’t be repeated often. (That it happened twice in the past few years – with the last being the great, underrated Gothic romance Crimson Peak – is a sign of hope, though.) Maybe it takes the clout of so-called “visionary” director Gore Verbinski to get something like this made, though the poor box office performance doesn’t bode well for it happening often.
(A side note: I’ve always kind of laughed at that “visionary” tag with Verbinski, whose filmography is nothing if not erratic and uneven; while he’s made some great movies, he’s never been someone whose style would earn the title “visionary.” And yet, I’d give it to him for this one, as will become clear in a bit.)
And that’s a shame, because A Cure for Wellness is a blast. It’s undeniably strange – one of the most nutzoid, balls-to-the-wall studio horror films, just in terms of how far it’s willing to go in its surreal nightmare of a story. And more than that, its visual style is absolutely astonishing, turning the film into a true Gothic horror story with a bit of a steampunk vibe to it, as we lose our way in a medical institution set up in an old castle, and find our connections to the past from there.
As with many Gothic stories, the plot is almost beside the point – it’s all about the style – but Verbinski and screenwriter Justin Haythe give us a great hook, following a driven, ambitious Wall Street type (Dane DeHaan) as he’s sent to retrieve the company’s CEO from a retreat in the Swiss Alps. But once he arrives, he starts realizing that this isn’t the kind of place that people want to leave, for whatever reason – and he starts finding his own departure to be similarly difficult.
Verbinski and Haythe start off with some meaty ideas about whether ambition and greed are our modern plagues, and there’s no denying the film’s interest in separating the modern world from the old. But ultimately, that’s window dressing for the psychological thumbscrews he’s got waiting, and really, the film benefits as it starts leaving behind its pretenses of theme and diving into its nightmarish visuals. From tubs of swirling eels to a torchlit dance sequence, from a perfectly reflecting pool to an ominously twitching handle, Verbinski leans hard into his style and cinematography, and the result is an absolute knockout. It’s one of those films where separating the style from the substance is missing the point; the style is the substance here, with the terror, unease, and discomfort all arising from Verbinski’s shadowy halls and surreal images.
Does it all makes sense, by the end? More or less, in that Gothic sort of way, with a few niggling questions. But really, by the end, I was too swept up in this strange world to care – I was disturbed by the images I was seeing, in awe of the lush world Verbinski had created, and thrilled by just how far – and how bonkers – Verbinski had gotten away with making this film. The result isn’t a perfect film by any means – DeHaan is adequate, at best; there’s a CGI animal scene that’s fairly bad; the ending is overlong, even if it contains one of my favorite moments – but it’s lush, it’s original, it’s beautifully filmed, and more than anything else, it feels like little else out there, all while still succeeding at being a nasty little piece of horror driven by its technique. And that is more than enough for me.