Shot by Shot Reviews of Film and TV

Every once in a while there’s a film, mediocre as a whole, but a part of it testifiably a masterpiece. How does that happen? Film productions are notorious for their opacity to the viewer and the public. Who contributed what idea when and how? Unless every party has their say we’ll never know. In most cases if a film is bad, good or mediocre we attribute it to the quality or temperament of the director. But what if a part of an otherwise great film is terrible? Was the bad portion due to the director as well? Was it notes from on high, as in the money people and the suits? A bossy actor? A chance circumstance like a natural disaster or a death that made the director’s true intention impossible to be realised? Anything can trip up a great run. Cause a stumble. But what can cause the opposite effect? What can lift up an otherwise by-the-numbers effort? If it was possible for that portion, why was it not possible for the rest of the film? Why only here and not elsewhere? What chance of coincidence or good luck injected one or a handful of scenes in a film inexplicably with magic? If you have the answer to that, you have the secret to the magic of cinema. Cinema, the art woven by unseen tailors and seamstresses into a profound experience.

And so we arrive at the mystery of Reptile, the 2023 Netflix film, directed by Grant Singer and starring the inimitable Benicio del Toro. I am not privy to any of the behind the scenes of this film. However from the opening credits I noticed that del Toro was also one of the producers of the film. Perhaps that was why as the movie progressed the crinkle in my brow grew more pronounced as I asked myself, why is Benicia del toro slumming it in this made for tv murder mystery?

Entire sections of the first half of the film had my mind wandering. The lethargic storytelling lacked any muscle to keep it focused and motivated. The writing was workman-like with characters spewing key exposition for no apparent reason in certain scenes with the film cutting away at once spelling it out that it was there for only that purpose. Halfway through I actually felt bad for del Toro because here was a screen actor with presence akin to the actors of yore and he was being wasted. And just when I was almost done, the film took a gradual turn from the tired and dull route. The next 50 minutes took on a completely different character from what had come before. No longer was it the mundane murder mystery, but we moved into the mind of detective Tom Nichols, who begins to uncover a trail of intrigue. And more than the details of the intrigue or the writing in the way it was unveiled, it was mesmerising to suddenly experience the world as Det Nichols. To watch all that he is holding back. We watch as he formulated his thoughts, in lovely subtle shifts of expression that is as significant as a boxer changing his or her footing, and performed with seamless grace. This becomes a cat and mouse game, and we, with him for the rest of the hunt, see the dynamics shifting, from hunter to hunted. If the script had been better structured and the dialogue more lyrical, with the exception of one great bit of dialogue where del Toro tells his wife, played by a very able Alicia Silverstone, ‘There’s only one thing I love almost as much as I love you. And that’s being a cop. And you know what? This thing does not love me.’

How many of us have felt that from time to time in their life? If the film had more lines of this quality, if del Toro had been partnered with a more weathered director adept in the seedy by-lanes of the human mind I would have been up on my feet clapping at the end. But as it is, it was like watching a star player dragging a team to victory. And while that can be a shame, that too can at times be a pleasure to behold. To see a star allowed to shine, and shine del Toro does. But if the team had been at his level, this would have been glorious. And that is where one feels bad for him.

Only just past the film’s halfway mark, with the story threads seemingly being wrapped up with predictable conclusions we get the first really intense scene of the new direction of the story. It is a short exchange between Del Toro and a friend of his, and I thought, ‘yes, yes, you’ve got the ball, now get it to the goal.’

That was with 40 minutes left to go. The next scene with Del Toro and his wife in a restaurant was better. There is a brief stumble, but then we get to a birthday party, we are at the final stretch. 30 minutes to go. And the film is taking the ball past the half-line. Again some predictable revelations. Unfortunately it took the director till this climactic section to realise that all he needed to do was keep the camera fixed on del Toro. Until now he had been using his cheap tricks of slow zoom ins and zoom outs, obscuring and revealing of characters and objects and cheap unnecessary dialogue.

This final leg is comprised of three or four primary scenes but they can be treated as one chunk almost half an hour long, and finally he lingers longer on del Toro who uses every line on his finely etched face to convey pagefuls of dialogue leaving us to revel in the delicious lengths of silence. This last half hour is his, and as a viewer you become thankful that it is. The ball was finally in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. The predicable twists were elevated by the performances.

With 23 minutes to go, and we get a scene of startling intensity. It was during a police stop and I will say no more. When you watch the film any Connoisseur of acting will recognise the elegance of del Toro’s economy of movement. The director makes the fantastic decision to only light del Toro’s eyes using the light reflected off the rear view mirror. I was near breathless despite its brief duration, and when it transitioned to the next scene I recall wondering, where had this film been all this while? The final scene at the lake house is done well enough, doing the most important job of capturing del Toro’s face once again. This was Grant Singer, the director’s, first feature film and it felt very much like a practice film, which no film should ever do. That he had at last figured out what was required of him in telling this story, perhaps with some help from del Toro’s experience and knowledge of the character to guide him. But whatever the spark for this surge in electricity it left me marveling at what might have been if only the switch had been thrown sooner because that would have been a film worthy of some top ten lists of the year. Instead, now and forever more it will just be a thumbnail among the thousands on Netflix’s catalogue, waiting for some patient viewer. And I can only hope they will sit through it far enough to experience these inspired minutes near the end. That was 2023’s Reptile. I hope you will watch it and share your thoughts with me.