"Silent Hill" was a groundbreaking video game, but it is not a groundbreaking movie. This oft-confusing, CG-laden horror flick stars Radha Mitchell as Rose Da Silva, a mother on a quest to decipher her adopted daughter Sharon's annoying habit of sleepwalking while muttering "Silent Hill," the name of a Virginia ghost-town.
In the film's opening scene, Rose and her husband Christopher (Sean Bean) frantically search for Sharon in the cliffy terrain that surrounds their house. Rose makes an improbable leaping grab to save the 9-year-old from plunging into the reservoir of a waterfall, and as she clutches her still-sleeping daughter, the camera pans upward to reveal a church steeple and crucifix silhouetted by the moonlight.
Could this be a horror film adapted from a video game that strives to do something more than satisfy its built-in audience of gamers and elicit a few chills? Yes, it is. And it fails miserably.
When it was first released in 1999, "Silent Hill" the video game enraptured players with its cinematic quality; the characters were well developed, and short film-like clips were cleverly woven into the standard puzzle-solving fare to strengthen the narrative. In service of fun and excitement, the game left plenty of loose ends dangling and often deviated abruptly from realism. These tactics may have enhanced the game-playing experience, but they translate poorly to the cinematic experience.
As Rose and the sexy female biker cop Officer Bennett (Laurie Holden) scour Silent Hill for Sharon, all sorts of weird stuff happens, most notably the town's propensity to periodically slip into complete darkness and unleash hellish creatures like a guy with an iron pyramid on his head, swinging an oversized reaper and commanding an army of rat-sized, flesh-eating beetles.
Somehow -- the movie never entirely explains -- this demonic hullabaloo is related to a witch-hunt gone awry, in which at least one innocent girl was burned at the stake. That innocent girl bears relation to Rose's daughter, hence her supernatural connection with the town.
Unsurprisingly, Arthur Miller is not credited for story or script. His play made sense. This movie does not. Panning to religious symbols and sprinkling in bits of ominous, history-will-repeat-itself-if-we're-not-careful references does not equate to thematic depth.
Imagine a cutaway to Gatsby's green light in the middle of "Dude, Where's My Car?" and you can understand how unnaturally cheesy, video game-adapted horror is paired with cultural significance.
"Silent Hill," rated R for strong horror violence and gore, disturbing images, and some language, is now playing.
