Teenage fear is one thing, and judging by the "horror" films pumped out furiously by the major
studios recently, it could be the only thing. All you need is one Dawson's Creek star, another
nubile yet not so famous starlet (we can't upstage the great siliconed one), a Kevin Williamson
script and you've got something which passes for terror in the aisles. Yes, you've seen it all
before, but it's part of that groundbreaking po-mo juggernaut, the nudge and wink reminding
you that terror is all relative and you've got homework due on Friday. More people want to
sleep with Jennifer Love Hewitt than watch The Idiots. I understand. I really do.
The Sixth Sense is a shift away from the so-called horror films of recent years. It's subtle,
genuinely scary in places and also oddly spiritual. I never thought I'd say this about a Bruce
Willis film, but the whole thing is almost too spiritual, too New Age. In its weakest moments it
resembles an elegant Ghost, and that can't be a good thing. The film works far more effectively
as an evocation of childhood terror. The film is not sophisticated in its scare tactics (mostly dark
corridors and figures suddenly leaping onto the screen) but the performance of Haley Joel
Osment as the infant Joel pulls you into the dread of the scenario and instantly every scene
hums with a faintly concealed panic. It's an incredibly evocative performance for a child. That
face claws at you and directs you back into your own loathing of childhood, the constant
misunderstandings, the loneliness. It's a movie about the terror of a child who hides under the
covers thinking he has escaped yet wakes every morning to find the creatures in the closet are
still there, refusing to disappear with the sunlight. That's where the film really connects, in the
portrayal of simple, lights-out fear. It's the simplest thing in the world, a pure terror that can
infiltrate your programmed reactions, and when it's done well as in The Sixth Sense all the
other Friday night slasher flicks look like the slipshod junk that they are.
Any review of The Sixth Sense has to deal with an ending that makes the film very difficult to
write about. Most reviewers struggle against this bind, for it makes their job even harder than
usual (if you are willing to accept that it's hard to write a film review). How to summarise the
plot without giving something away? How to suggest the terror of the unknown the film
expresses so skilfully without setting that ephemeral shake in some solid concrete? It's better
just to shut up. You should avoid all reviews before seeing this film (sorry if you've read this far
folks). After the film, you won't want to read another word. This film was made for multiple
viewings and film geek discussion. A review of The Sixth Sense is like critiquing the frame of a
Goya or the liner notes to a Bowie album.
Yesterday I read a friend's review of this film. He spent five or six paragraphs getting himself
into all manner of knots, and by the end of the piece I just wanted to buy him a drink and
discuss something a little more tangible. So off to the bar we went. And you? Just go and see
the film already.
adam rivett
comments? email the author
Also in toto:
Did you know Bruce Willis is one of toto's reason's for being?
Goto sebastian's personal account of the Sixth Sense for a second opinion of the film.
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