A thriller that feels like a never ending graveyard shift.
There’s been a bit of a question lately regarding what kind of a thriller the new indie The Night Clerk is. One review labeled it an “autism thriller,” which could read a bit tacky even though the main character is living with such an affliction. On the other hand, a colleague of mine went so far as to call the movie an “occupational thriller” due to the fact that the central crime, and most of the events/thrills which take place as a result, all happen in the main character’s place of work. There is such a thing as the “occupational thriller,” which ends up being a closer description to the kind of film The Night Clerk is. The main goal of that specific sub-genre tends to play on a person’s fear of their profession defining them to the point where it ends up literally claiming their life. It could be said that on the surface, this movie is a combination of the two. It presents a fragile protagonist whose workplace role puts him in the most dangerous situation he’s ever had to face. But what kind of thriller is this movie really? Truthfully, after watching it, I’m still not sure.
In writer/director Michael Cristofer’s The Night Clerk, Tye Sheridan plays Bart, a 20-something living with asperger’s who shares a home with his mother Ethel (Helen Hunt) and maintains a job as a nighttime desk clerk at a local hotel. Unbeknownst to anyone, Bart has cameras secretly hidden in each room which he uses to spy on people in an effort to adopt their mannerisms and speech patterns so that he will hopefully be less conspicuous in public. However when he rushes to help a female guest who has just been murdered at the hands of an unknown man, he finds himself the main suspect in her death and must contend with the detective on the case (John Leguizamo) and a beautiful guest staying at the hotel named Andrea (Ana de Armas).
On paper, the set up for The Night Clerk is great. A damaged, fragile young man who is so curious about the outside world finds himself in a situation that is beyond his scope of instinct and comprehension, forcing him into a situation he has no clue how to escape from. There’s a dead body, a beautiful woman and an increasing level of suspicion and dread slowly encompassing him every step of the way. In some ways, The Night Clerk feels like the sort of thriller genre fans could have expected to find in the 90s. This isn’t due to the small presence of modern-day technology (although Cristofer’s script makes sure that, apart from surveillance cameras, the film isn’t to reliant on them.) Really, the reason for The Night Clerk feeling so throwback has to do with the self-contained world it exists in. There could have been a number of accidental reasons for this, such as not enough money in the budget for extras. Regardless, the world Bart finds himself in feels just as isolated and alien as can be. It’s a move which works in helping those watching the film feel just as closed off and cautious as its main character. It’s hard not to feel empathy for someone like Bart; an individual for whom the ordinary world (if there ever was such a place) already felt like one continuous mystery. When he’s plunged into an actual one, the real mystery becomes whether or not he can survive it.
If the setting up of The Night Clerk is done well, it’s its execution which causes it to just fall apart. Everything flows perfectly well following the murdered guest and the subsequent appearance of Andrea, bringing her own veil of mystery for Bart to be both puzzled and intrigued by. After that, The Night Clerk drifts, meanders and pretty much takes an undeserved cat nap as its main character tries to improve his relationship with Ethel, gets to know Andrea better and practice the random casual sayings he uses to interact with the people he encounters in everyday life. Even his interactions with Detective Espada (Leguizamo) feel so lifeless, as if both actors are still at the movie’s initial table reading. You almost expect Leguizamo to say at one point: “So I guess I should say something in an accusatory way, huh?” In short, The Night Clerk does everything except truly invest in the mystery at hand, doing very little to build on it, let alone actually solve it. It seems that for as much of a thrilling mystery as the movie’s marketing and logline promise it to be, there doesn’t seem to be much of one. By the time the film is nearing its conclusion, a revelation washes over the audience which causes them to say: “Wow, I guess that really was it. A scattered pace and an overall level of quality which makes the movie feel as if it were made for basic cable only further diminish any promise The Night Clerk once had. It’s a sad result for a film which had such initial promise.
Sheridan seems both eager to play the particulars of his role while also coming off as a little intimidated by them at the same time. The young actor has proven he can bring emotion and depth to any assignment. His double showing at the 2018 SXSW film festival in the blockbuster Ready Player One and the much smaller dark drama Age Out showed a skill few actors his age can master. The Night Clerk gives Sheridan a role worthy of his time and talent, without question. But the nuts and bolts and cliches which comprise the role make it almost downright unplayable. Unlike Sheridan, de Armas and Leguizamo were not gifted with parts which warranted participation of actors of their stature. Both look absent in each of their scenes thanks to the uninspiring people they’ve been asked to bring life to. Only Hunt (who feels like she’s in an altogether different movie) retains any real dignity as she brings an authenticity to the role of a mother who has spent her whole life loving her son the only way she can.
Cristofer doesn’t work as often as someone with his talents should. Rather than go into full-on reiteration about why The Night Clerk doesn’t score, I’d like to remind those reading that Cristofer’s work over the years actually has. He was the first to truly humanize Robert De Niro and Meryl Streep, showing their tender sides in the 80s romantic dramedy Falling in Love before succeeding in the almost impossible task of adapting John Updike’s The Witches of Eastwick into an 80s classic. His is next literary adaptation The Bonfire of the Vanities didn’t enjoy anywhere near the same kind of success but did show the same kind of ear and flair for dark comedy as Witches did. The Richard Gere drama Mr. Jones saw Cristofer balance an honest look into bipolar disorder with a sensitive love story in a slightly daring way before making his most acclaimed turn as a filmmaker a few years later when he directed Angelina Jolie in his own screenplay of the life of model Gia Carangi. With so much talent and storytelling versatility inside one man, it’s a damned shame that he isn’t working more. The Night Clerk only makes this notion all the more true.
