For some reason I had it in my head that Drew Goddard's second directorial feature was some kind of unmitigated disaster, a bloated wanna-be epic that was full of ambition and not much else. I don't know why I thought this. Perhaps because it's a 2 hour and 20 minute movie with an ensemble cast that didn't do so well at the box office and didn't really cause much of a stir critically. That's not to say it was maligned critically, but nobody was raving, and word of mouth was pretty much nil (at least in my circles). Toast wrote a review that mirrors pretty much the entire critical consensus, that there's a great build-up and a tepid finish. It's that thought, that the film doesn't wholly satisfy, that stuck with me, I think. And when it's absolutely a rarity to get 2 hours of free time uninterrupted by children or pets, it's hard to consider spending it with a film that doesn't leave you satisfied.
Those reviews, Toast's included, are 100% correct, that the final act doesn't seem to be the ending the first hour and fifty minutes was climbing towards. But the first 4/5 of the film is really, really quite terrific. The opening sequence is viewed from a single static shot capturing almost the entire scope of a motel room at the El Royale. The song on the radio ("26 Miles (Santa Catalina)" by the Four Preps) tips us off to its 1950's setting, and plays over the jump cut (same composition) imagery as the room's occupant rearranges the room, rips up floor board, drops in a bag, restores the room and then answers the door only to be shot dead. The film jump cuts 10 years to introduce us to a crane shot of the exterior of the El Royal, and leading into the lobby where three guests are waiting to check in. There's a lounge singer, a priest and a vaccuum cleaner salesman all genially engaging (with an unerring subtext of mistruth) in a very ornate, very mid-century modern style. The El Royale, it is explained by the clerk, was built on the border of California and Nevada, one half on either side. On the Nevada side gambling took place, the Calafornia side was for drinking and entertainment. After the gambling license was pulled the motel went into harder times (but hardly any apparent disarray).
The design aesthetic of the Lounge here is exquisite. I fell in love with it instantly. It's a team effort, between the design team, the lighting crew, and Seamus McGarvey's impeccable cinematography. The shot composition is notable for just how beautifully it captures the setting and the players movements within it. Lots of wide angles and long interior shots, with speaking or performing characters off in the distance, unrecognizable (except you can tell that's Jon Hamm's voice through a purposefully fakey creole accent). The looks of each side of the state are radically different, with Nevada dressed in steely, sparkly blues, while California is bathed in golds and ambers, and inside a red line runs down the middle (as does a similar red line run down the center of the parking lot).
Everyone who checks in carries an obvious secret, even the initially unresponsive clerk... suspicion abounds. The immediate thought is someone, or everyone, is there in search of whatever was buried in the opening sequence. But the mysteries deepen early, and the El Royale, like its visitors, is not what it seems.
This discovery phase in the first two acts (the film does not actually have a standard 3 act structure, but rather more of a 5-act set with title cards) is scintillating, full of possibility and potential. At first there's a sense of randomness at play, but also destiny, like the players are all here at this time not of their own free will. That sort of mystical nature doesn't last, but on the outset it has the same spark of fascination that Goddard's Cabin in the Woods had. When that ethereal quality ebbs -- basically at the point when the violence starts -- Goddard shifts his cleverness into approaching the same scenes but from different perspectives, so in the middle acts the movie's timeline keeps looping back to different moments to gain a fuller picture from most of the cast's perspective. It's a rewarding technique that fleshes out the scenario in almost its entirety.
So what happened, then...why the big let down. Let's just say it doesn't fulfil the promises it set up. It takes a different turn, which isn't a terrible one, but it feels less organic to the story and somewhat anticlimactic.
It gets lightly SPOILERY in discussing it, so skip past the next paragraph or two if you don't want any of the film's secrets revealed.
---Spoilers---
The poster makes a big deal over Chris Hemsworth, putting him front and center. He's a bankable star now (as much as anything non-Disney can be called bankable these days)...charming, handsome, funny, so I get why they would want to tie to him. But his character doesn't really have a role in the film until the final act, and his appearance as a real POS cult leader, is so out of joint with the rest of the film. His involvement is connected to two of the 6 characters at the hotel, so his interacting with the rest is just collateral damage in a way. The film had been setting up both mysterious owners of the hotel, and a possible FBI involvement, neither of which materialize, which is the biggest let down. These two aspects are set up at different points in the film, each one relating to a separate character in the film. By not effectively bridging together all these components in the final act, it just simmers rather than explodes.
---end Spoilers---
Which isn't to say that there isn't closure in the end, but it doesn't feel satisfying, it doesn't feel like the correct ending. Two threads introduced in the film are just left dangling.
It is a meaty 2 hour and 20 minute movie, and knowing this one wonders if the methodical pacing of the prelude and opening act couldn't be trimmed a bit...and yet those are the best scenes in the movie, delicious set-up. Some of the flashbacks could have been shaved down, but then they bind us to the small cast even more. Film now has a very difficult time in competing with television's ability to tell a story or build character in 6/8/10 or many more hours, especially an ensemble piece. Even with its run time, Goddard does have an economic mindset with the characterization here, getting the most reveal in the shortest timeframe.
Really it is just that last act that falls flat, which is a tremendous shame. It's not even like it's badly performed or betrays the rest of the film, there are some genuinely good moments (a great one where the amazing Cynthia Errivo calls out Hemsworth's toxic masculinity - and much of society's as well- which is absolutely glorious). This final sequence just slows things back down again after a frantic couple of acts, which makes the film feel as long as it is.
Is it worth watching? I would say so, but what lingers the most is not great imagery or delightful curiosities or, really, top notch performances, but the letdown of its potential greatness.
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