On the same night legal experts convene to review the case of an infamous mass murderer bound for death row on the morrow, eleven persons find themselves stranded at a remote motel in the midst of a torrentuous downpour. Their already miserable night turns for the worse when one of their number turns up dead, followed by another, followed by the suspected killer. Tensions flare and bodies pile higher as the shrinking pool of potential victims only blurs the murderer's identity. Can they pin the identity before none are left... and why do we keep cutting back to the hearing?
I don't much mind what Identity is as a film for... oh, say an hour and change, seventy minutes call it. The conceit of Ten Little Indians by way of Psycho beneath a damp post-modernist lens has value in its novelty and potential for reinvention, even as I find the sheer number of characters necessary for the plot a bit difficult to consistently track or too deeply invest myself. Frankly, on a scene-to-scene basis, I can't think of much director James Mangold manages incorrectly or does technically wrong, allowing plenty time for the requisite screaming matches before lapsing into bitter contemplative silence and then simmering back up to another pot explosion. All parts are played to satisfaction, and though some leave me colder than others or leave before their full potential is explored, such dissatisfaction is to be expected in a thriller of this nature. You set someone up as the big scene-driving personality, then hammer them out the picture to leave us with the more ineffectual and frustrating personalities so we get wrapped up in their emotional state, doing plenty of the movie's legwork for it via passive observation. It's sound theory, and plays out alright in execution.
Thing is, I don't know whether to blame this on Mangold's handling or the base script from Jack Frost writer Michael Cooney, but it becomes evident far too soon Identity means to rely upon a twist to really sell the punchline. None of the red herring killers can get past the hump of playing as too obvious fakeouts, the cuts back to the legal proceedings are excessively conspicuous, and the sudden leech-in of supernatural elements make it clear we are spinning our wheels until the rug pull, which disincentivizes me to care much about the main body of goings-on. By halfway through, I know something's gonna turn out not what it seemed, someone's gonna yank back a curtain for a massive reveal that recontextualizes everything I know, and neither the character work nor the tension are strong enough for me to put this knowledge from my mind and get wrapped up in the shattered mystique. Outright said to my watchmates, this is gonna live or die based on either an outright genius twist, or a really fucking stupid twist. And wouldn't you know it - I was right!
In a way, I was right on both counts, for the reveal is kinda interesting, yet the twist is stupid. The reveal that the entire motel plot is a mental projection by the killer at the hearing, a man with a Hollywood take on dissociative identity disorder, and all the persons at the motel different personalities in his head? Loathe though I am to praise bad psychology, it does add some extra intrigue to affairs: enlivens the cast by giving reason to pick apart how they might function as different headmates, adds new dimensions to why certain pairings work or bristle, introduces new stakes by letting us dive back into the head with the identity of the killer still unresolved, the matter now one of life or death for the otherwise innocent man who'll be put to death if the murderous face isn't taken down. All smart applications of this sudden swerve, and done with a smidge've empathy towards the man whose head houses all this strife. There's AN evil personality in there, but enough hints to indicate it's one born from trauma and grown maladaptive over the years, and the idea multiple others' survival is OK so long as the malignant identity is gone leaves some room for positive interpretation of a character who could otherwise just read as crAaAaAazy. If I'm not too hot on the somewhat low-energy climax itself, I can forgive for the boldness of the strategy and the discussions it allows about handling sensitive material like this for more than just shock value.
...is what I WOULD say if the twist at the very, very end weren't pure, schlocky shock value. The group chat swiftly dubbed it the Timmy Montage, and I do not find Identity a solid enough picture to survive the Timmy Montage. Suddenly revealing a child character thought dead in an explosion half an hour past is still alive and slam-cutting through all the ways he secretly committed or orchestrated every murder in the picture? Including a shot of him doing a Cool Guys Don't Look At Explosions badass walk away from a fireball? While topside the character I said a viewer might read with empathetic tones fully subsumes into OH NO EVIL SPLIT PERSONALITY MURDER MAN AAAAAAAAGH!!! histrionics? Too much. Too goddamned much. Reveals the entire movie as a ninety minute exercise in going GOT YOU! Echoes back and taints all the passable 'n' good material by association with something so goofy, so nakedly concerned with providing a last-second jolt absent intent to elevate meaning. There's no way to catch it coming, no greater understanding of any points about human nature or mental illness or fragmented identity through its passage; you're playing cards with an uncommonly cagey player who tips their hand too far too early, and compensates by tossing a hatchet in your face and calling it a win.
Julie called the finale a Freddy Car moment, and I'm inclined to agree with the sentiment. Cruel sudden swerve endings take a lotta moxie to attempt, and a hell've a lot more skill to pull off, skill I'm not entirely sure Mangold had at this point in his career. Given his reputation as a workman who'll give you exactly what you ordered and not a whit more, I'm not even convinced the modern Mangold with his boosted reputation from Logan and Ford V Ferrari could carry off something this ludicrous. Identity would prove far, far better off without the twist, focused purely on the reveal, defying expectations about cinematic depictions of DID and simply leaning into the obvious, delivering what the reality of the situation implies, and leaving the audience on a strange yet hopeful note. Going all, "Blagh! The killer's STILL OUT THERE and he's UNSTOPPABLE now!" makes me doubt anyone involved was emotionally mature enough to use the concepts at hand in a story ostensibly for adults.
(Remarkable cast, in that I know I've seen all of them multiple times over in fairly prominent roles, but can't recall a face beyond Jake Busey's.)
