There are a few scenes that, at first blush, seem both too long and distractingly thin. You might not enjoy “Sick” if you don’t, on some level, enjoy having your nose tweaked and your patience tested. Hyams is that good at setting viewers up just so he can repeatedly knock us down. There are very few working genre filmmakers who consistently deliver enough cattle-prod jolts to keep you on the edge of your seat. Williamson’s name may conjure certain associations, but this is Hyams’ show, an impressive showcase for vivid sound design, unsparingly hard cuts, and genuinely surprising violence. “Sick” is more evidence for Hyams’ by-now standard theory.
HYPER SLASHER MOVIE
When I interviewed Hyams a few years ago, he told me that he thinks a movie only comes together in the editing room. Hyams (“Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning,” “ Alone”) excels at stringing viewers along, immersing us in whatever room or outdoor setting that Parker and her friends fly through, and then occasionally snapping us out of our complacency with giddy violence. There are a few expected plot contrivances along the way, but if you’re thinking too hard about the integrity of WiFi and car tires, you’re probably not the right audience for this type of movie. Blood flies, limbs tumble, and a frantic chase ensues. (“Scream” screenwriter Kevin Williamson also has a co-writer credit on “Sick.”) And after about 38 minutes, DJ encounters another balaclava-wearing stalker, and this one’s just as relentless as the last.
It’s not, of course, but that’s a good part of what makes “Sick” so thrilling: it’s a high-toned body count pic with instantly understood rules, as you might guess from the cryptic post-“Scream” text messages-“Wanna party?”-that both Tyler and Parker receive. Parker also blocks the mysterious texter. Parker reminds DJ they’re in an open relationship because he’s desperately nervous about a suggestive Instagram post. Or whoever’s sending Parker creepy texts from an unlisted number. Like her clueless partner, DJ ( Dylan Sprayberry), who follows Parker to the cabin without announcing himself. Representatives of the outside world sometimes interrupt Parker’s vacation, but they’re nothing that she can’t handle. Miri sighs and shrugs at Parker while Adlon’s bratty character avoids everything but the pursuit of simple pleasures: a tan during the day, a remote-controlled fire at night, and a joint with some finger foods before bed. It would be easy to overlook the polish and execution of this generic set-up, especially because Tyler disappears right afterward.īut Tyler’s not really out of the picture, though he is immediately supplanted by the real star of “Sick.” Parker ( Gideon Adlon), a benignly self-absorbed university student, retreats to a secluded lake house with her loyal bestie Miri (Beth Million). The violence in this table-setting scene is also upsetting not only for its splattery brutality but for director Hyams’ merciless use of hard cuts on action, extreme (but coherent!) close-ups, and subtly disorienting long takes. Before Tyler is attacked, we’re given ample time to soak up the dimmer-switch ambiance of his apartment, which is also jarring after the simultaneously vast and hyper-compartmentalized sterility of the above-mentioned Walmart clone.
Moreover, the pace of this opening scene has an unexpectedly varied rhythm, especially given its leisurely start. He follows Tyler back to his apartment and tries to dispatch him with a big hunting knife. A familiar but well-realized confrontation ensues: somebody’s watching Tyler, texting him from an unknown number and photographing him from just out of view. First, we follow Tyler ( Joel Courtney) through the bare shelves of a Walmart-style big box store. The makers of “Sick” don’t waste time in messing with their audience.
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