Mimic (1997)
Approach Cautiously
The eerie credits of the 1997 horror movie Mimic—designed by Kyle Cooper, who also did the credits for Seven (1995)—unfold to the first dissonant cords of composer Marco Beltrami’s brilliant score.
In New York, epidemiologist Dr. Susan Tyler is shown a series of patients—all children struggling for breath—cocooned in a hospital ward. Her guide, Dr. Peter Mann, Deputy Director of the Center for Disease Control, tells her “Strickler’s disease was first diagnosed two years ago. We’re no better off now.” Outside memorial ribbons flutter from the railings of a playground. The CDC has been unable to find a cure or vaccine. Peter wants Susan to find a way to attack the disease’s carrier—the common cockroach.
Susan designs a mutant strain—the Judas breed. Her approach is a success. Cockroaches die. Children are saved.
But, the cockroach is resilient.
Three years pass.
At night, a terrified old man runs across a flat roof and jumps to his death. His pursuer pulls the body through a storm drain. Across the street, an autistic boy sits by a window, swathed in red light. He recognizes people’s shoes by their sound. He calls the pursuer, “Mr. Funny Shoes.”
Two young boys, who regularly capture specimens for Susan, bring a rare find. She identifies it as the Judas breed, although as she tells Peter, “They were designed to die. They are breeding.” Susan goes with the boys to the Delancey Street subway station—looking for roach egg cases.
She discusses her findings with a colleague. “So, you think your little Frankensteins got the better of you,” says Dr. Gates, “Evolution has a way of keeping things alive.”
“But,” she replies, “they all died in the lab.”
“Yes, Susan. But you let them out—into the world. The world is a much bigger lab.”
Mexican director Guillermo Del Toro is in the line of foreign directors—including Roman Polanski (Rosemary’s Baby, 1968), Sergio Leone (Once Upon a Time in America, 1984), and Luc Besson (The Professional, 1994)—who, in New York, have uncovered something different from native-born directors. And, what Del Toro has uncovered in Mimic is very nasty.
This world is brought to shuddering life by Del Toro, camerman (Dan Laustsen), production designer (Carol Spier—David Cronenberg’s regular production designer), and various creature designers, editors, sound engineers, and termite wranglers.
But, for all the movie’s technical bravura, the actors are impressive. Alexander Goodwin is bright and brave as the autistic boy. Giancarlo Giannini is his caring grandfather. F. Murray Abraham has non-judgmental gravity as Dr. Gates. Charles S. Dutton gives a trenchant performance as the transport cop reluctantly pressed into helping in the subterranean search. Jeremy Northam is entirely believable as the CDC scientist. And Mira Sorvino is commanding as the expert who knows more than anyone else about the rapidly mutating adversary.
Del Toro’s New York is a world of glittering nighttime streets, shadowy interiors, and dimly lit passageways. The humans are caught like insects in pools of light, while the nonhumans remain hidden, ominous presences. Del Toro finds striking ways to show this world—when Susan, dressed in protective clothing, first releases the Judas breed into the dark bowels of the subway, he shoots Sorvino from below—as if seen by the roaches—glowing red, like a goddess.
John Bloomfield (28 October, 2002)
The eerie credits of the 1997 horror movie Mimic—designed by Kyle Cooper, who also did the credits for Seven (1995)—unfold to the first dissonant cords of composer Marco Beltrami’s brilliant score.
In New York, epidemiologist Dr. Susan Tyler is shown a series of patients—all children struggling for breath—cocooned in a hospital ward. Her guide, Dr. Peter Mann, Deputy Director of the Center for Disease Control, tells her “Strickler’s disease was first diagnosed two years ago. We’re no better off now.” Outside memorial ribbons flutter from the railings of a playground. The CDC has been unable to find a cure or vaccine. Peter wants Susan to find a way to attack the disease’s carrier—the common cockroach.
Susan designs a mutant strain—the Judas breed. Her approach is a success. Cockroaches die. Children are saved.
But, the cockroach is resilient.
Three years pass.
At night, a terrified old man runs across a flat roof and jumps to his death. His pursuer pulls the body through a storm drain. Across the street, an autistic boy sits by a window, swathed in red light. He recognizes people’s shoes by their sound. He calls the pursuer, “Mr. Funny Shoes.”
Two young boys, who regularly capture specimens for Susan, bring a rare find. She identifies it as the Judas breed, although as she tells Peter, “They were designed to die. They are breeding.” Susan goes with the boys to the Delancey Street subway station—looking for roach egg cases.
She discusses her findings with a colleague. “So, you think your little Frankensteins got the better of you,” says Dr. Gates, “Evolution has a way of keeping things alive.”
“But,” she replies, “they all died in the lab.”
“Yes, Susan. But you let them out—into the world. The world is a much bigger lab.”
Mexican director Guillermo Del Toro is in the line of foreign directors—including Roman Polanski (Rosemary’s Baby, 1968), Sergio Leone (Once Upon a Time in America, 1984), and Luc Besson (The Professional, 1994)—who, in New York, have uncovered something different from native-born directors. And, what Del Toro has uncovered in Mimic is very nasty.
This world is brought to shuddering life by Del Toro, camerman (Dan Laustsen), production designer (Carol Spier—David Cronenberg’s regular production designer), and various creature designers, editors, sound engineers, and termite wranglers.
But, for all the movie’s technical bravura, the actors are impressive. Alexander Goodwin is bright and brave as the autistic boy. Giancarlo Giannini is his caring grandfather. F. Murray Abraham has non-judgmental gravity as Dr. Gates. Charles S. Dutton gives a trenchant performance as the transport cop reluctantly pressed into helping in the subterranean search. Jeremy Northam is entirely believable as the CDC scientist. And Mira Sorvino is commanding as the expert who knows more than anyone else about the rapidly mutating adversary.
Del Toro’s New York is a world of glittering nighttime streets, shadowy interiors, and dimly lit passageways. The humans are caught like insects in pools of light, while the nonhumans remain hidden, ominous presences. Del Toro finds striking ways to show this world—when Susan, dressed in protective clothing, first releases the Judas breed into the dark bowels of the subway, he shoots Sorvino from below—as if seen by the roaches—glowing red, like a goddess.
John Bloomfield (28 October, 2002)
posted by John Bloomfield at 11:38 PM
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