It’s been said that there’s no such thing as an original idea. Variations on the plots perhaps, but the basic tales have all been told. And that’s true, but those variations can sometimes make it seem like you’re watching something completely fresh and utterly original.
Which brings us to Pontypool. Grant Mazzy (Stephen McHattie) is a big-city radio DJ recently transferred to a small region in Ontario. He arrives at work one cold and snowy February morning and meets up with his producer, Sydney (Lisa Houle), and technical support Laurel Ann (Georgina Reilly). The day starts normal enough with weather reports, traffic advisories, and friction between talent and producer, but soon reports come in about a bizarre incident happening elsewhere in town. The local weatherman claims to see a large group of people attacking a doctor’s office before a few of them apparently turn on the reporter himself. They’re covering cars like bugs, making noises like windshield wipers, and tearing into other people with their hands and teeth. People are calling in to the station speaking in gibberish and repeating words endlessly. Things get progressively weirder from there…
Pontypool defies convention in at least two ways, one more successfully than the other. The most obvious being that the entire film (aside from a brief introductory scene) takes place inside the radio station. It’s a beautifully effective and claustrophobic setting used to it’s fullest. All outside events are relayed solely through audio. We hear descriptions and sounds (growls, screams, chants) alongside the station’s employees, but the only thing we see is the confusion and fear on the actors’ faces. This is a risky move for any film as all of the responsibility rests on the their skills. Luckily for Pontypool, all three main actors do fantastic jobs. McHattie looks like a grizzled Lance Henriksen (redundant, I know) and commands the screen when caught up in his handful of radio monologues. Houle looks like a Canadian Moira Kelly (nonsensical, I know) and runs the gamut from detached to desperate very well. Reilly looks like a prettier Anna Faris (blasphemous, I know) and is a fountain of tragic enthusiasm. Like I said, these three are tasked with (and succeed at) carrying the film for the first sixty minutes… until the madness outside finds a way into the building.
(** Possible spoiler, unless you’ve read anything else about the film. **) The second piece that goes against the norm is the premise behind the terror. Pontypool is a zombie film, of sorts, and features a virus that causes confusion, panic, mimicry, and eventually the desire to kill. The key is in how the virus spreads… via the English language. It’s a fascinating idea, and Pontypool builds it brilliantly through hints and revelations, and in scenes with characters you’ve come to like starting to stutter, cough, or touch their throat knowingly. Words have become more dangerous than the blood or the bites. The characters are understandably incredulous, and the audience’s reaction is the same. Unfortunately, while the folks trapped in the radio station have no choice but to accept what’s happening, some viewers may not be able to make that leap. A doctor (Hrant Alianak) arrives to explain what’s going on to both characters and audience, and his performance just doesn’t match the film he’s occupying. He’s bubbly, goofy, and funny while terrible things are happening on the other side of the glass. He doesn’t fit, and the dramatic terror suffers for it. Not to mention the explanation itself may require a second viewing to understand and follow…
I hesitate to detail more about what transpires in Pontypool because it is definitely a unique and interesting movie worth experiencing first-hand. While it is technically a zombie film, it’s unlike any you’ve seen before. And it’s not a gore film, although there are some very cool and bloody effects towards the end. Director Bruce Macdonald and writer Tony Burgess have crafted a smart and ambitious film about the power of language and have hidden it beneath the guise of horror. Pontypool is two-thirds of greatness, and one-third what could have been, but it’s definitely worth a watch for it’s originality, acting, and tension.
Related Topics: SXSW
