A Review of Shut In by Nick Olszyk
Distribution Service: Online
Year: 2022
FCC Rating, TV-MA
USCCB Rating, Not Rated at the Time of This Review
Reel Rating, Four Reels
Disclaimer: The following review contains spoilers
For
many patrons of the cinema, there are lines that cannot be crossed. Usually, it
is content related, such as realistic violence, nudity, or animated chipmunks.
My pius mother, to this day, has never seen The Passion of the Christ
simply due to its R rating. For myself, it is the harming or endangering of
children. No matter how respectfully or truthfully portrayed, I just can’t
handle it. So, when my wife wanted me to see Shut In, a film about
single mother locked in a pantry while a criminal stalks her children outside,
I had no interest. Yet, out of vocational obedience to her request, I agreed
and was pleasantly surprised at its excellence if still a bit squirmy in some
parts.
The
film opens with Jessica (Rainey Qualley), a single mother and recovering drug addict,
packing up the last of her belongings from a large, rural house. She had lived
in the house while getting sober with her grandma, four-year old daughter
Lainey (Luciana VanDette), and infant son Mason (Aidan Steime) and are now
downsizing after her mother’s passing. On the day of her departure, she is
visited by her ex-husband Rob (Jake Horowitz), still addicted to meth, and his
friend Sammy (Vincent Gallo), who was recently accused of child molestation.
When Jessica refuses to participate in his lifestyle again, Rob locks her in the
pantry and nails it shut for good measure. After they leave, Jessica must plan
an escape while still attending to the needs of her children through a small
gap at the bottom of the door. Things become far more dire when Sammy returns looking
for Lainey. As the minutes become hours, Jessica battles demons both internal
and external, finding desperate ways to solve multiple problems at once while
being restricted to a room barely the size of a typical closet.
A
work of craftmanship, Shut In is a brilliant execution in building
tension with minimal resources. Nearly 80% of the runtime occurs within the
pantry. The action outside is created through expert sound design and small movements
of the walls. Director D.J. Caruso also builds his narrative like a trail of
bread crumps, setting up important props like apples, a toolbox, and leaks in
the ceiling that will be vital later. Lastly is Qualley’s performance, which is
done mostly through breathing and expressions. Her lack of dialogue allows the
audience to create in their own minds what is occurring both in her head and
outside the pantry, which is far more terrifying than explicitly showing the action.
Something
rare but valuable was Caruso’s approach to violence. Horror films, especially
in the 2000s, are notorious for their use of gore and graphic imagery. Jessica
never uses violence unless it serves a very specific purpose: the defense of
her children. Unable to confront Sammy directly, she lures his arm under the
door with the promise of drugs, then slams a screwdriver through his palm,
pinning him to the floor. It won’t help her escape, but it will stop him from
harming Lainey. She shows great restraint toward her antagonists but also will
not hesitate to use force when necessary.
Jessica
is another example of a recent shifting narrative of what femininity means to a
21st century woman. Like
Gal Godat’s portrayal of Wonder Woman, Jessica is not an anti-masculine,
bridge-burning siren who eschews motherhood and gentility but nonetheless presents
extraordinary courage and strength. Caruso, no doubt drawing from his
experience as a father of five, is remarkable in his honesty of difficulties of
parenting, such as Lainey being unable to find the toilet without her mom and
crying over soiled pants. Jessica approaches these challenges with honest
frustration but understanding. When her family is threatened by Rob, she is not
spiteful but firm in her refusal to allow him to interact with them until he is
sober. She will defend those she loves even against those she loves, not even
negating “the lethal blow.” I was frequently reminded of the sorrows of Mary
who watched her own child endure unjust suffering.
This
leads to another fantastic aspect of the film: its subtle use of religious
imagery. There are plenty of fantastic films that are explicitly religious like
Going My Way, Monsieur Vincent, and Chariots of Fire. Yet, it is
often best to slip your religiosity in undetected like broccoli in a chocolate
chip cookie. There is a crucifix on the wall in the panty that Jessica glances towards
in moments of suffering. There is also a Bible that has money in its pages that
becomes an important tool. Apples are also used as a metaphor. Fruits that are
a little rotten can be cut and salvaged for good purposes, but apples that are molded
to the core must be “thrown away and trampled underfoot.” All these little Christological
moments remind the audience that sweet and gentle Jesus also cursed the fig
tree and ordered his disciples to buy swords for their missionary work.
Shut
In is a powerful and beautiful film that I probably could not watch again,
but that is only due to my own sensibilities. Originally picked up by a major
studio, it was shelved after the writer learned the producers intended to
remove the religious themes and replace the villainous child molester with a barking
dog. Fortunately, The Daily Wire, a conservative news outlet, financed
the film as written. Shut In thus represents a fantastic trend in modern
cinema. Films are becoming cheaper to produce while also being more accessible
through the internet. Directors can now bypass the large corporations to find
an audience. Hopefully, this process will continue to ensure fantastic independent
films get made…albeit with perhaps lighter themes.
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