Trap (2024)

M. Night Shyamalan's career has been an interesting one. The impact of his first few films was so incredibly strong that the mere mention of his name generates enough interest to get bums on seats. This is despite the fact that there have been some serious ups and downs in his canon over the years. For every 'The Sixth Sense' (1999) there is a 'The Last Airbender' (2010). Yet still, even here in 2025, we tune in. Why? Well, for better or worse, M. Night is an auteur who is very capable in the department that is arguably the most elusive of all of the elements of filmmaking - tone. Creating a tone leads to a feeling of atmosphere, which leads to the feeling of true escapism that we are looking for when going to the movies. That is a rare and magnificent trait. Regardless of the quality of the plot, or sometimes preposterous acting choices, his films always seem to have an immersive feeling that very few people can muster. For further evidence, observe the masterful way this happens in the criminally underrated 'Unbreakable' (2000). This is why we keep coming back. 

So, on a personal level, let it be stated for the record that I am a fan. I don't really care that some of the films aren't that great, I will still happily tune in because of the escapism that is nearly always promised by an M. Night Shyamalan effort. That said, 2024's 'Trap' is dreadful. There's no way to sugar coat it.

The plot itself seems intriguing enough  - "A father and teen daughter attend a pop concert, where they realize that they're at the center of a dark and sinister event". Great, you think, this must be some sort of play on the word 'Trap' and probably involves some sort of claustrophobic chamber drama because, after all, it's M. Night Shyamalan we're talking about here. The titles mean something. Right? Wrong. The title, in this case, means almost as little as the entire film in general. 

It starts off ok and it is always a welcome sight to see Josh Hartnett and his beautiful face in a leading role. However, pretty soon, and seemingly out of nowhere, his performance goes from one of quiet resonance to Mr. Tumble after half a gram of high-quality methamphetamine. It's hard to watch. From here we go from one plot contrivance to another with seemingly absolutely no regard for a through-line to the story. The tone / mood / atmosphere previously mentioned as an almost guarantee in this director's body of work is almost non-existent. Nothing kills the tone quicker than a series of events that just happen with no consequence, point, or mention further down the line, yet this film is made up of almost nothing but those sort of moments. In the space of about 15 minutes, a teenage girl is pushed down a large flight of stairs, causing moderate to severe injury, another innocent teenage girl is blown up by scolding hot cooking oil, again causing alarming levels of injury, and a (presumably homosexual) male popstar is abysmal to all and sundry. These things must be set-ups for some sort of consequence further down the road, right? No. They are never mentioned again, leaving us - the viewer - in a perpetual state of bafflement. 

It doesn't get much better from there, with Hartnett's performance ignoring the idea of 'less is more' in favour of 'more? I'll give you more!', the deeper into the plot we go. If you were to attempt to class this film in a genre, it would likely fall under the term 'Thriller'. However, as we move along, everything is so easy and floats along with almost no friction that there ends up being nothing at stake. It's a thriller with no thrills. A nail-biter with no tension. You could even go so far as to say that nothing actually happens at all. Yes, things are 'happening' in the mechanical sense of the term, but you don't feel any of it. And if you don't feel, you really have no film. In fact about the only feeling you are continually left with was 'why has this film even been made in the first place?' and then you find out the answer. You see, the plot revolves loosely around Harnett and his daughter attending a concert of a fictional superstar by the name of 'Lady Raven'. Who is Lady Raven played by? M. Night Shyamalan's daughter. Who is also an aspiring popstar. And now it all makes sense. The entire first hour is essentially a vehicle to showcase his daughter's songs, which actually aren't half bad if you're into that sort of thing. Which I'm not. But still, at least we now have context. 

I'm all for a bit of nepotism and lord knows if I was in his shoes and my princess angel baby daughter requested for me to write a film around her burgeoning pop career, you best believe I'd be doing the exact same thing. All we ask as viewers is a bit of effort. It's not much to ask. Let's just make things make sense. Let's tie off the loose ends. Let's fill those plot holes, at least a tiny bit so they're not so gaping. Let's let the lead actor play it cool, instead of this weird flittering between Travis Bickle and Pee Wee Herman, sometimes in the same sentence. You end up feeling bad for Hartnett. I highly doubt a lot of these choices were his, and you can almost see him asking Shyalaman how he should play this scene, M. Night looking at his phone, barely paying attention, answering "I don't know, just play crazy, bro." That's the maddening thing. There is a concerted lack of effort on display here that is most disappointing. There's not even one of his famous end of movie plot twists. Well, there is a decent twist, but that comes about 10 minutes in and if the bit at the end featuring the child's bicycle is supposed to be the equivalent of that, then shame on everyone involved. 

All of which leads to an effort that feels lazy, contrived to within an inch of his life, and a film made by someone who's lost interest in making films. As a fan, this is a shame to say, but it would be remiss to award this film any extra points based on nostalgia alone. The truth is, this film could have been made by anyone, and that is probably the most damning summation one could have about the whole affair. When you lose the M. Night Shyalaman 'thing', what do you have left? The answer is not much. I'll give it an extra half star for the absolutely flagrant nepotism on display, which you just have to respect, but overall this one deserves a wide berth. 

Saleka Shyalaman's new album 'Lady Raven' is available right now from all usual outlets. 

JB.