It is certainly not a common sight to witness an audience getting up and leaving the theater one by one before a movie has even reached its conclusion. When watching a movie comfortably at home through a TV or an OTT service, one can easily press the stop button on the remote control whenever it gets boring, but the weight of the space called a theater is fundamentally different. Once an audience member has directly invested their time and money to purchase a ticket and step into the screening room, the general psychology of moviegoing dictates that they will stay in their seats until the very end to confirm the final message the film aims to deliver, unless it is exceptionally uninteresting or deeply disappointing.
Therefore, turning one's back and leaving the theater before the movie is entirely over might just be the most active and ruthless expression of punishment an audience can inflict upon a work. It serves as a powerful, unspoken protest declaring, "Even though I have paid the rightful price, I refuse to waste any more of my precious time on this film." Alternatively, it could be a bitter act of regret and self-judgment for choosing a work that falls so far below expectations. I suddenly ended up watching the movie The Keeper on the day of its release by pure chance, and I personally witnessed this rare and unusual situation of audience members abandoning the screening midway through.
Personally, even though it was a rather unfamiliar film that I hadn't gathered much prior information about, I was inwardly astonished to find far more people inside the theater on its opening day than I had anticipated. Normally, for a film with low public awareness, it is not uncommon to find only one or two people in the theater, even on its opening day. The fact that it was hard to find an empty seat meant that this work had somehow instilled a considerable amount of anticipation in the public prior to its release. The only brief piece of information I had verified right before watching was the single fact that this film was a mystery genre featuring bizarre illusions.
Because I was already aware in advance that the film was a hybrid of mystery and horror genres, I naturally breathed tension into my entire body and focused on the screen as soon as the theater lights went out. In truth, the most chilling and terrifying moments a horror movie presents to its audience do not stem from the direct appearance of grotesque monsters or ghosts, but rather from the unknown uncertainty of 'not knowing when, where, or what will pop out.' The bizarre variations that abruptly appear within a daily life that one believed to be extremely ordinary and stable are the ultimate horror that suffocates the audience. When the daily routine, which should be the safest place, collapses, and an anxiety is fostered as if something could erupt at any second, the audience feels the most intense tension.
In that sense, the movie The Keeper succeeded exceptionally well in weaving this chilling tension of daily life during its early stages. It delicately captured the psychological pressure that unfolds as the female protagonist, who is accustomed to the sophisticated life of the city, heads to an isolated house in the deserted countryside. The unknown sense of alienation and eerie silence hidden behind the peaceful scenery hint at the ominous events that will soon strike the protagonist, making it impossible for the audience to hastily let go of their tension. This solid suspense established in the beginning acted as a powerful driving force that made me completely immersed in the screen.
The role of the female lead, 'Liz', who drives the play, is taken on by Tatiana Maslany, who smoothly portrayed the representation of a typical modern city woman. Her face on the screen looked somewhat very familiar, and as I kept tracing my memory to figure out where and when I had seen her, I realized she was the very lead actress who perfectly pulled off multiple roles in the highly popular British premium drama Orphan Black. Alongside her boyfriend 'Malcolm', played by Rossif Sutherland, she heads for a weekend getaway to an old, antique country cabin that seems to be owned by his family, stepping directly into the center of a full-fledged mystery.
The two have already been dating for a year, and based on their affection for each other, they show a deep relationship that seems to seriously consider even marriage. However, perhaps because Liz hasn't formally introduced her boyfriend even to her closest friends yet, the scene where her friend throws a pointed joke over the phone, asking "Is he a married man with a hidden child?" leaves a strangely uncomfortable lingering feeling. Nevertheless, leaving the complex daily life of the city behind, the two strive to spend a sweeter and more enjoyable time than ever through this quiet weekend trip alone, showing the appearance of an ordinary couple in love.
Before the main narrative unfolds in earnest, the movie's opening sequence shows a powerful contrast that completely deflects the audience's expectations. At first, a sweet and mellow love song flows as background music, and images of cute and beautiful women who seem completely deeply in love fill the screen one after another. Watching their lovely poses of acting coy or smiling brightly at a man, one could easily fall into the severe delusion that this work might be a sweet romance film rather than a horror mystery. However, this sweet illusion abruptly turns into a horrific scene of blood-soaked women screaming at the very last moment, cruelly declaring that the true nature of this movie is a bloody horror genre.
After this shocking opening, the movie returns to the scenery of an extremely ordinary and tranquil daily life, but inexplicable and bizarre phenomena begin to occur intermittently within it. In particular, the setup that Malcolm's somewhat delinquent and sleazy cousin lives right in the house above injects a heterogeneous air into the peaceful cabin and breathes an unpleasant tension into it. Frankly, due to the conventions of the thriller genre, from the first time I saw Malcolm, I couldn't shake off the suspicion that he might be the mastermind plotting some terrible scheme. This is because, in such isolated spaces, it is very common for the most trusted person nearby to be the culprit. But as the play progresses, such one-dimensional culprit-hunting moves away from the core of the movie.
The true core of the mystery the film harbors lies in the very fact that bizarre illusions keep shimmering before the eyes of the female protagonist, Liz. These terrible illusions tormenting her are not merely nervous breakdowns; they are closely related to the old cabin they are staying in, and all the clues bite each other's tails, connecting back to the past history of a whopping 200 years ago. The setup that the resentment or secrets accumulated in this house over a long period of time are manifested through Liz gives the narrative its own plausibility and arouses interest. Exactly up to this point was the minimum borderline of logical and rational development where the movie could compromise with the audience.
The real problem is the development of the second half that unfolds from then on. The movie scatters the carefully built-up suspense with incomprehensible, esoteric images and developments, making it hard to even figure out what the audience is supposed to understand. I tried hard to ponder if the director intended to express some profound symbol or metaphor, but in the end, only a strong sense of fatigue and the question, "What on earth are they trying to say?" remained. The reason why many audience members left their seats without any lingering attachment and exited the theater during the last 20 minutes of the movie must be exactly because they were exhausted by this abstruseness and lack of explanation. It was a work that left a deep sense of regret, making one wonder what exactly the title 'The Keeper', which means one who protects an object or a person, was genuinely trying to protect in this film.
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