WEāRE LIVING in a golden age of horror movies that weāre not allowed to call horror movies. Crimson Peak was a āgothic romance.ā The Witch was... whatever The Witch was. While the trailers seemed intent to sell those films as horror, neither functioned very well if you went into the theater with conventional genre expectations. And while I usually find that sort of categorical groundskeeping pretty obnoxious (and Iām pretty sure The Witch WAS a horror movie), Iām here to tell you thatāno matter how it may first appearāA Cure for Wellness is not a horror movie.
Donāt get me wrongāthe synopsis certainly makes it seem like one! Callow young stockbroker Lockhart (Dane DeHaan) is dispatched on an errand by his employers to a mysterious geriatric clinic in an extremely sinister Swiss castle. Said clinic is run by an unsettlingly European doctor (Jason Isaacs), who also may or may not be a Dracula. As one might expect, bad things happen. But as one might not expect, each of A Cure for Wellnessā apparently disparate componentsāstockbroker, old people, Dracula castleāis given equal attention. So yes, maybe there are hundreds of creepy eels lurking beneath the surface of the clinicās pond. But there are also a lot of water-aerobics scenes.
While Lockhart is kind of a shit-ass Master of the Universe when we first meet him, heās never truly deserving of the indignities he suffers. So right out the gate, weāve lost the two emotional hooks that horror movies typically lean on with their protagonists, the first being āI sure hope theyāll be okay!ā and the second being āI sure hope they get whatās coming to them!ā Rather, itās from Lockhartās emotional response to his mental and physical degradation that the movie draws much of its intensity. If thereās a primary emotional response here, itās not fearāitās a growing sense of inward-facing revulsion.
Director Gore Verbinski doesnāt really seem interested in scaring us, either, despite the whole āHaunted Eel Castle playsetā he meticulously constructs in the filmās first acts. The thing about Verbinski is that he made Disney literal billions of dollars with the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, so every once in a while he gets to wander off and make offbeat, unexpected movies like this one (he also directed Rango and The Weather Man, if youāre keeping score). Verbinskiās passion projects are always deeply bizarre, but despite being scattershot in their approach, they always manage to land a surprising number of solid, emotionally true moments. And none of them play by the established rules of their ostensible genres. Sure, thereās some Dracula in the DNA for A Cure for Wellness, but there are also traits from Eyes Without a Face, Chinatown, and American Psycho. Wellness is just as concerned with the inevitability of old age and the unavoidable moral compromises of late-stage capitalism and as it is with periodic spurts of bodily fluids.
But although Wellness has many easily identifiable structural influences, its visuals are remarkable and unique: Beautifully composed landscape and architectural shots alternate with grimy body horror and unexpected POV angles. Verbinski and cinematographer Bojan Bazelliāwho previously worked with Verbinski on The Lone Ranger and The Ringāseem as fascinated by the picturesque Swiss countryside as they are with pale bodies in hospital linens and mid-century industrial equipment. (Oh, and the viscera splattering on that mid-century industrial equipment.) Itās aesthetic whiplash piled onto an already complex thematic gumbo. Thatās not a bad thing, necessarily, but there are a LOT of ideas on the table here.
Verbinskiās focus might be too diffuse for Fangoria-collecting purists, but for the rest of us, Wellness is worth seeing. Regardless of how you want to describe itāor what genre you think it fits intoāA Cure for Wellness is haunting, gorgeous, and masterfully disgusting. In a strangely subtle way, itās one the weirdest films Iāve seen in ages. And itās definitely the one Iāve thought about the longest after it ended.