We are all born to embrace stories in one form or another. Whether it’s those which are read to us at bedtime, the ones we hear huddled around a campfire or any of the other narratives that become a part of our lives, there is always something that draws us to a good story; the more visceral and unsettling it is, the better. This is where we find a lot of discussion around urban legends and contemporary mythologies, which are often directly related to more sinister and unsettling concepts, as made evident by the sheer number of true crime stories that are so readily embraced by the global population. In his novel The Whisper Man, Alex North looks at this directly, exploring the very fickle boundary between reality and fiction, and how the lines that separate them can become increasingly blurred. The novel has now been turned into a film, helmed by James Ashcroft (who has steadily built quite an interesting career), who takes the core ideas and develops them into what can only be described as a perversely entertaining crime thriller merged with an intense psychological horror film. The story follows Tom, a marginally successful author who has recently lost his wife, and in an effort to heal, decides to move back to his hometown with their young son Jake, whose overactive imagination is a source of both joy and concern. What he doesn’t realise is that the community was previously plagued by a sinister figure known as “The Whisper Man”, who abducted children and murdered them. Despite the original culprit being locked away, it is soon revealed that there is a copycat killer who has recently emerged, their modus operandi being almost identical. It doesn’t take long for Jake to go missing, which leads Tom to seek out the help of both Amanda, the local investigator who has been looking into these crimes for a while, and his own father Peter, a former police officer whose greatest achievement was catching the original killer. A film that is about as predictable as it is unhinged, The Whisper Man is a peculiar curio of a film, albeit one that more than earns our time, even if it requires a bit of patience to get through some of its more abstract ideas.

To get to the root of what makes stories like The Whisper Man stand out so enormously (even if some may be correct in their criticisms of certain aspects) requires us to understand what precisely it is being targeted here. The story revolves heavily around characters who reside in a small town, one that seems almost idyllic on the surface: perfectly-maintained lawns and pristine picket fences that all give off the illusion of a nearly flawless community. However, as David Lynch famously said, “if one looks a little closer at this beautiful world, there are always red ants underneath”, which seems to be the manual with which every story about seemingly perfect communities with sinister pasts is crafted. The focus in particular here is on the protagonist’s home, the place where he and his son move to feel a sense of security and comfort, not realising that it is soon going to become the location for not only their own traumatic incidents, but the revelation of a deeper and more horrifying history that changes how they perceive the place that is supposed to be their refuge from the hostile outside world. Ashcroft achieves a very unsettling feeling by creating an image of the world that seems pleasant at first, but gradually reveals itself to be far more foreboding, with certain ideas being truly unsettling – a brief glimpse of someone outside your window, the sight of a gloved hand creeping through a letterbox, or the faint but unmistakable sound of an intruder that is just too far to immediately recognise – which form the foundation of this film’s haunting and unsettling depiction of a harrowing world. There’s a reason the sub-genre we can refer to as “domestic horror” is so effective, where stories occur in places that are supposed to be comforting and secure, but turn out to be the stage for some unquestionably terrifying commentary – and it’s only made more intense by the addition of themes relating to child abuse, predatory behaviour and mental illness, which makes it far more unsettling and unhinged, especially when it reveals some of the deeper truths about a world that is far less pleasant than it seems to be at a glance.

One of the more unconventional aspects of The Whisper Man is that it doesn’t have a single focus, and constructs itself as more of an ensemble piece, which is quite rare for a crime thriller, which tends to be a genre in which there is usually a clearer focus in terms of characters, with clear primary perspectives rather than several different ones. In the case of this film, there are essentially three core characters that drive the narrative, each one of them having their own arcs independent of one another that eventually intersect and create the foundation for the climactic moments. Adam Scott is perhaps the most central of the three at the start, and his character undergoes the most significant shift. Like many comedic actors, Scott has proven to be a good dramatic performer, and while he may not have the most interesting arc, he does handle the more intricate aspects of the character with remarkable dedication. Unfortunately, he eventually does end up playing second fiddle to Robert De Niro, whose entry into the film makes it clear that it was designed to be a vehicle for the veteran actor – and it’s not surprising that he’s got the most compelling character in the form of the conflicted police officer who is forced to revisit a past he would’ve preferred to remain dormant. The chemistry between Scott and De Niro, who are playing father and son, is certainly quite strange, but it does add to the tension of the film, which is undercut by Michelle Monaghan, whose performance as the dedicated detective is quite strong, even when she ultimately has the least satisfying resolution. However, the best performance in the film is one that was absent from marketing altogether, and comes as a bit of a surprise to those who ventured into the film without prior knowledge. Michael Keaton proves that someone can steal an entire film with minimal time on screen, since in only three short scenes, he brings the part of a sinister criminal to life with such sharpness and precision, going darker than he ever has before, and bringing so much unexpected complexity to a film that desperately needed him to inject some genuine terror into a sometimes heavy-handed narrative at times. He’s by far the best reason to seek out this film, and it remains some of his most unexpectedly brilliant work, despite only having a few minutes to deliver the performance that ultimately acts as the key to the entire story.

Moving beyond the performances, which everyone can agree are mostly decent if not very good at times, we can find that some of the reasons The Whisper Man may not work as well as we would hope come down to the execution of its ideas. I veer towards the more positive, but it’s evident that there are certain aspects that did leave quite a bit to be desired for the most part. At its core, the film struggles to find the right tone – it clearly wants to be a dense, complex crime thriller that gets to its point through making liberal use of elements of psychological horror. However, the story being told is one that is far too realistic and important to just be filtered through a more conventional horror lens, which means that the filmmakers are pushing the narrative to the bleeding edge of the genre without actually leaping. For the most part, we can respect that decision immensely, since as much as we feel like we are being teased with something much more sinister, which never actually arrives, it is already an enormously dark story as it stands, and approaching it as a horror, while perhaps more effective, would’ve removed the more serious message from the centre. Additionally, the film often lacks a bit of focus – it moves in certain directions that don’t always make sense, leaping between the characters in a way that makes it difficult to fully understand all of them, the result of a film that has three protagonists, each of whom has their own distinct storylines that don’t always intersect as effectively as they would’ve hoped. Neither of these is troubling enough to invalidate the film, and we certainly can admire the effort that went into the creation of the story. It just ultimately becomes slightly too muddled to be entirely effective, leaving us craving a tighter and more consistent execution of a very interesting subject. Ashcroft is not without his merits as a filmmaker (The Rule of Jenny Pen is a prime example of his skillfulness behind the camera when it comes to establishing atmosphere and tone), but it did feel like he was slightly out of his depth with this story at certain points, which doesn’t diminish the merits but certainly does prevent it from truly achieving greatness.

There’s something so deceptively entertaining about The Whisper Man, which does present itself as a primarily conventional crime thriller that does absolutely everything that we would expect, following a familiar pattern and being a mostly well-crafted but predictable psychological thriller. However, what we come to realise is that it’s not the destination that is most interesting – we know that the story is going to be resolved by the end and have something of a positive ending – but rather the journey to get there, which is what truly leaves an impression. Some of its logic can be entirely flexible to the point of being nearly unhinged (and it is an example of a film that takes far too many artistic liberties, especially since these characters tend to act in ways that are nothing if not a bit inauthentic), but the flights of fancy, while lacking in sincerity, do have a subtle charm that we can appreciate. By no means is The Whisper Man subversive or challenging, or anything more than we would expect based on a cursory glance, but it does prove to be quite entertaining when it wants to be, and mostly veers towards being decent enough to give us two hours of solid enjoyment, while also provoking a bit of thought. Nothing said in this film is particularly new or revolutionary, and it does play by the rules for the most part – but there’s nevertheless still enough holding this film upright to warrant our attention, perhaps not enough to make the film anything particularly remarkable, but certainly still keeps us invested and engaged. Considering the breadth of its themes, which are unfortunately very much relevant to the real world, and the extent to which it is committed to some of these more abstract ideas, it’s difficult not to at least admire the effort, which is more than sufficient in making this a solid and reliable thriller that delivers exactly what it promises, and not an ounce more.