

She is simple and direct in her approach, and we watch as terror co-opts her life. Does she have resentment about this? Was she in movies or theatre? Was she just "aspiring"? What's her plan now? Monroe's performance makes you forget the gaps in the character. Julia was an actress, and she gave it up to come to Romania with her husband. This serves the genre (she's a projector screen for free-floating audience anxieties), but also makes her seem a bit of a cipher. Julia, wandering through the cavernous apartment, pinned to the spot by the watcher across the way, loses all sense of time, of her own self and its contours, just like Catherine Deneuve does in "Repulsion." Another Polanski film, "Repulsion," provides poignant reference points. But the film's acute psychological portrait of a scared lost woman, sleepless and possibly hallucinating, condescended to (lovingly, even worse) by the man who's supposed to have her back, is most reminiscent of "Rosemary's Baby," and the film's careful attention to interiors-doors left ajar, blind corners, vast uncrossable spaces, cramped elevators-is Polanski territory. Much of this is well-trod ground (particularly Hitchcockian ground), and the references to " Rear Window," both visually and thematically, are everywhere. Such behavior is part of city life, as is people-watching. It's not a crime to stand at your window and stare out at the opposite building. But the terrifying thing is that no crime has been committed. "Watcher" is about the confusion between the voyeur and the voyeur's "object." When he looks at her, she looks back. There's a distinct sense from him that she's making a huge deal out of nothing.

Francis is somewhat supportive of his wife-or he tries to be-but he is also baffled at the turmoil his wife has descended into. He's sitting behind her at a matinee of Stanley Donen's "Charade" (or is he? It's hard to tell), Later, she sees him again at the grocery store. Julia starts to see the "watcher" out and about.


Thus begins Julia's emotional disintegration, beautifully tracked by Monroe, each scene building on what came before, until she is nearly unrecognizable from the woman we met at the start of the film. It's probably nothing.īut every time she looks out her window, he's there. In a wall of darkened windows, there's one that's dimly lit, and a man ( Burn Gorman) stands there, staring down at them. She hovers on the sidelines, asking Francis, "What did he say? What did she say?" As the two enter their new apartment building, she glances up at the building across the way, and sees something eerie. Okuno does not use subtitles, and this makes Julia's frustrations our own. She is disoriented, especially when the two men appear to be talking about her. Julia doesn't understand a word being said.
Weather watcher review driver#
Francis and the taxi driver chat in Romanian. Trouble starts immediately in the cab ride from the airport to their new apartment. He is half-Romanian, speaks the language, and works long hours, leaving Julia-transplanted, adrift-to her own devices. Julia and her husband Francis ( Karl Glusman) have moved to Bucharest. "Watcher" is Okuno's first feature, as well as a first feature for the cinematographer, Benjamin Kirk Nielsen, and the two together make a powerful team. The mundane is terrifying, and the terrifying seduces.
Weather watcher review full#
Spaces are empty that should be full and vice versa. Voices emerge as if from the bottom of a well. Ceilings are too high, stairways too long. Silences are loud and sounds are even louder. This is a stylized affair, and the care taken with every choice-the apartment interior, the furnishings, the color of the curtains, Julia's red sweater and red tights, etc.-is meticulous. Chloe Okuno's "Watcher," a chilly and elegant thriller, embodies Julia's state of mind in every aspect: the visuals, sound design, production design, color scheme, not to mention Monroe's visceral central performance-all work together to express Julia's point of view, so much so that doubt arises in regards to Julia's reliability as the narrator of her own life.
