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. | Panic
Room (2002) |
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The
name David Fincher is the only reason not the like this film.
Maybe also David Koepp (screenwriter). Fincher because three
of his four films before Panic Room are serious contenders for
any best films list of the nineties. One of them is arguably
the best film of the nineties. (Chronologically: Se7en, The
Game, Fight Club). Koepp because he has no idea how to write
good stories (as witnessed in the resolution of Stir of Echoes).
The level of expectation and the sort of expectancy that stuck
to Fincher post-Fight Club was unlike anything else in Hollywood
had seen in a long time. Fincher was supposed to give us a film
that we’d be talking about for the two years we’d
have to wait for his next feature. And instead we were given
a despicable version of Home Alone with Jodie Foster. Single mother and daughter
are spending their first night alone in their new home in Manhattan.
A little after one a.m. three men break into their house. Neither
party (burglars/burgled) is expecting company. The mother and
daughter escape into a panic room which is specifically designed
for such purposes and is impossible to break into. The film
would end there, burglars cussing their way out and mother/daughter
calling the police. Only that mum hasn’t hooked up the
phone inside the panic room yet and what the burglars want…is
inside that room.
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