A blend of sci-fi, horror and thriller, Tarsem Singh’s 2000 film sticks with you long after viewing — an afterimage from a too-bright flash
The Cell is ostensibly about Catherine (Jennifer Lopez), a child psychologist working for an institute that attempts to insert a psychologist into the mind of a coma patient to help aid recovery. In the meantime, detective Peter Novak (Vince Vaughn) is investigating serial killer Carl Stargher (Vincent D’Onofrio) who kidnaps women, slowly murders them, then bleaches their bodies before using them as a masturbatory aid. He kidnaps a final woman, hiding her away before suffering a seizure and falling into a coma. Peter comes to Catherine to try and journey into Stargher’s mind to try to find the woman before she becomes the final victim, but she risks getting lost in the madman’s mind. It’s a dangerous journey of discovery — of the self and of the other — that ends in tears, blood and, ultimately, a dash of hope.
In the real world, it’s standard thriller fare — serial killer, victims, hardened detectives, a race against the clock. It’s in the world of the mind where it turns into a memorable, surreal and fetishistic hellscape. Catherine wanders through impossible labyrinthine passages, discovering the duality that exists within Stargher. She is chasing the child Carl, an abused little boy who wants no part of the world he is trapped in, while she is pursued by the adult monster Stargher. He holds control of the landscape, littered with the twisted and chained bodies of women and animals, implements of torture intended for both Catherine and himself.
D’Onofrio might not necessarily come to mind as the sexiest cast member of the film — I’m looking at you gratuitous shot of J.Lo smoking weed in cheeky panties — but his performances in the film range from upsetting to fiercely erotic. In the real world Stargher is graceless, twitching and shuddering as he stalks his victims. He has a poorly controlled lust that convulses and disgusts. In the world of the mind however, he is a king. Gone are the tics, replaced with performative fluidity. Theatre is sometimes a dirty word in film, but theatrical is the only word that fits the grand, operatic gestures and balletic grace that he expresses in the mind.
The costume design of Eiko Ishioka, woven seamlessly with the work of a robust makeup department, serves to emphasize the madness of the mind being explored. Stargher is exquisite in everything from leather trousers and giant horns, to a gilded jester outfit to a room-lining red velvet cape attached to his back via a set of piercings. His outfits dominate the space and overwhelm the screen, and the viewer can’t help but see him. Catherine’s outfits are muted until she becomes lost in Stargher’s mind, at which point she is quite literally caged. From that point she is dressed in high-necked fetish posture collars, rich gowns and tight PVC dresses: she is objectified and chained, another of Stargher’s belongings.
Eventually she is freed, only to bring Carl and Stargher into her own mind space. It is clean and lush, full of jewel tone pools and white peacocks. She is Madonna to the child Carl, at least until Stargher appears and she mutates into an avenging angel to stop him in his tracks. She holds both images in her mind, two ways of being to deal with the duality of Carl Stargher.
It is fitting that the film closes where it begins, in a desert dreamscape of Catherine’s original child client’s imagining. This time, however, the meeting happens within Catherine’s mind. She mimics his mindscape to provide comfort, but she controls the environment and can show him the limitless potential of this place. She has journeyed through hell, and, dressed in a gown of white feathers and crystal, she can finally be the angel of hope she always wanted to be.
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