The Visitor will be available on digital and On Demand on Oct. 7, and will stream on Epix in December.
Reviews for middle-of-the-road purgatories like Justin P. Lange’s The Visitor are the most challenging critiques to tackle. When you adore or loathe a movie, the words flow. Then there are the forgettable to frustrating titles like The Visitor that are competently shot, yet the storytelling leaves you disappointed, like being fed Cracker Barrel instead of grandma’s down-home cooking. Simon Boyes and Adam Mason’s screenplay about a rural bloodline, the husband who sees his doppelganger in paintings, and the mystery that never excites is dustier than attic storage boxes. Lange initially drew attention for directing 2018’s The Dark, but horrific accomplishments do not repeat in his third whisper of a genre feature.
Ol’ Iron Fist himself Finn Jones stars as Robert, a British immigrant who moves to his American wife Maia’s (Jessica McNamee) vacant childhood home. While rummaging through remaining family heirlooms, Robert finds a portrait of a man who looks identical to himself. As Maia trots Robert around town like a show pony, most everyone provides warm welcomes — others mutter cryptic messages for only Robert’s ears. Little by little, Maia’s idyllic home on the prairie becomes Robert’s source of discomfort as more paintings with his likeness appear. The suspense might be slowly killing Robert as his paranoia intensifies, but it’s not a shared experience with us, the audience.
The Visitor establishes early tension as out-of-towner Robert is clearly seen by Maia’s community as more than just a new face. Maia takes Robert to the local watering hole where a persistent bartender gets Robert shlammered on unlabeled moonshine, while older couples all toast to Maia and Robert from afar. Lange traces basic folkloric horror blueprints where an unknowing party stumbles into an Americana ritual or cult-like territory. Robert’s always meant to seem like a fish out of water — The Visitor doesn’t attempt to downplay excessive enthusiasm from pastors or shop owners who treat Robert like the second coming of Christ. The paintings are the puzzle piece that keeps us guessing, although what’s to come is not that hard to predict, given Lange’s stress on distress.
There’s a sense that The Visitor so desperately wants to be anything dreadfully folkloric from The Wicker Man to Population 436 — a far cry from Lange’s execution. Jones and Jessica McNamee are stuck in this back-and-forth where Maia makes Robert feel insane for linking lookalike paintings from yesteryear with some sinister town plot, then Robert stumbles upon a new clue to restart the cycle. It’s all very uninspired and telegraphed from miles away by the filmmaker’s decisions, leaving Jones and McNamee’s performances out to dry like days-old laundry. Cinematography is all fluttery sundresses and humble dirt-road humility that paints accepting community vibes, which Lange too blatantly goes out of his way to ensure we all know masks a dark secret.
Despite Robert’s nightmares filled with religious imagery, horror elements provide no spark. The series of paintings Robert investigates dooms rebellious townsfolk who attempt to reveal obvious warnings, bringing upon Old Testament plagues like land-hopping frogs and swarming locusts. Biblical horror is underwhelming given its minimal usage, although Lange does conjure solid spooks with ghostly encounters like grandmotherly ghouls who call to Robert while asleep. Maybe that’s the most frustrating part — how Lange demonstrates talent behind the camera in haunting bursts. The problem is how rare these examples are and the overall snail-like pace that leads to shruggable inevitability.
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