This month, Old Academy Anew tackles an absolute classic from one of the best years in cinema history. The Sixth Sense is M. Night Shyamalan’s third writer/director combo effort and his Hollywood breakthrough. This is all before nightmares like The Happening (2008), The Last Airbender (2010), and After Earth (2013). Hold up. Let me check something on the infallible Rotten Tomatoes. Yep. The dude has more misses than hits. Okay, moving on.
Because this is a well-known movie the approach must be different. We’ll still have the usual three-part structure, but the insight is going to be more esoteric than factual. I don’t think I’m about to swear as much as I tend to do in these reviews; yet, “spoilers” ahead in case you haven’t seen this more than two decades old movie.
THE REAL WORLD
After two full minutes of pompous credits over an uninspired black background with a forgettable font in some weird shade of blue an old-timey light bulb emerges; its glowing filaments look like an elongated pair of boobs or a saggy ass. We’re in a basement, and a pretty woman comes down to pick a bottle of wine. Her excitement turns into sudden distress as she holds herself in a way that tells us the chill around her isn’t normal. I mean, she’s wearing a nice body-hugging strapless dress, but I guess that has nothing to do with the mystery. She runs up.
It’s 1999, and a children’s psychologist has just received an award for his contribution to the mental welfare of kiddos all over Philadelphia. He, Dr. Malcolm Crowe (Bruce Willis) accepts a sweatshirt from the basement lady, his wife, because it’s getting cold.
FROM THE GET-GO, THE SIXTH SENSE ASKS YOU NOT ONLY TO SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF BUT TO THINK THAT FUNCTIONING ADULTS SEE NOTHING WRONG ABOUT A HOUSE WITH CENTRAL HEATING BECOMING CHILLY JUST BECAUSE. THIS WILL KEEP HAPPENING ALONG THE WAY, LIKE IT’S SOME SORT OF WINK AND NUDGE THAT YOU MUST DUTIFULLY NOD AND SMILE ABOUT.
The initial exposition is disguised as cute banter, and I’m not mad about it. Amid kisses and wine, the handsome couple get ready to be adults upstairs. Their liquor-induced bliss is brought to a screeching halt when they discover a broken window. Shadow and movement alert them; there’s someone in the bathroom. The camera slowly pans within, and we see dark discarded clothes on the floor.
A man in his underwear holds himself in anguish. He’s trembling, almost mirroring what we witnessed in the basement. Dr. Crowe confuses him with a junkie. The intruder doesn’t show any sign of drug abuse devastation; I mean he does look like someone tweaking, but I’m not gonna tell you how I know that. Through the tense dialog, we learn the man was Crowe’s patient. He feels the doctor never truly helped him because he’s still afraid. As Crowe lists names, trying to figure out who this man is, we realize even heroes cannot save everyone.
THIS FORMER PATIENT WILL HAUNT US THROUGH THE SIXTH SENSE. A HUMAN CHEKHOV’S GUN IF YOU PLEASE, BUT ALSO A LITERAL ONE BECAUSE HE SHOOTS DR. CROWE– CLOSING THE INTRODUCTION. THE FEW MINUTES OF DESPERATION WE SPEND WITH THIS MAN ARE A SNEAK PEEK INTO WHAT’S AHEAD.
The former patient/intruder also deletes himself, and the scene fades to black as the wife screams in horror. There’s something about certain stylistic choices that made me feel this film was actually made in the early 80s. Nevertheless, color returns to give us a time frame; which makes no effing sense since we didn’t know during what season the previous incident happen.
THE SPIRITUAL WORLD
Dr. Crowe sits on a bench, studying his notes. We see the name of the shooter then another name with similar symptoms. A door opens across the square, and we meet our second lead. The tiny boy leaves what we infer is his house; his awkward skip-run takes him in a hurry to a massive building: a church– the doctor in hot pursuit.
Inside, the doctor apologizes for not being available for their appointment. Cole (Haley Joel Osment) says a phrase in Latin then continues to play with his toy soldiers silently. To make small talk, Crowe mentions that people used to hide out in European churches, claiming sanctuary. I know for a fact that didn’t apply to all churches, but that’s neither here nor there. That little morsel of historical trivia piques Cole’s interest, and they have a somewhat revealing exchange. Cole’s parting words are “I’m gonna see you again, right?” “If that’s okay with you,” the doctor answers. The little boy walks off, stealing a Jesus from a group of miniatures on his way out.
Night falls, and we see the good doctor walk home. The pretty wife is already asleep. Crumpled tissues about her tell us she’s been crying. The basement is now full of boxes with Crowe’s papers. He finds a Latin dictionary and learns the meaning of Cole’s words. Out of the depths, I cry to you O Lord.
WE NEVER LEARN HOW OLD COLE IS, AND YET, THE SIXTH SENSE TRIES TO USE THOSE WORDS TO GIVE US A MOMENT OF WHAT? SUSPENSE, REALIZATION, DREAD?
How does this little kid know such a phrase in Latin? It has an impact on the first view, but if you take a minute to think, they mean nothing because he’s never in church again, and his mother doesn’t seem religious at all.
The next day, as Cole gets ready for school strange shit happens around him. He fears his mom thinks badly of him. She (Toni Collette) assures the boy, she will never do that. This scene is barely five minutes long, but it puts us through the wringer; their struggle is palpable.
After that, we switch back and forth between our leads’ daily lives. Dr. Crowe trying to penetrate his wife’s isolation. Cole’s awful school hours. And how both situations intersect as the doctor and the patient explore symptoms and probable causes.
The film keeps the real reason for the weird events close to its vest until we enter full horror territory; nasty things emerge, and we understand why Cole is always scared (and cold).
THE FAKE WORLD
I’m clearly nitpicking the heck out of this movie; what’s the point of me gushing (mainly about young Osment’s performance) for two thousand words about it? Even masterpieces have flaws when you look at them for too long. We live in an age where we can always find something to bitch about. Right? We bitch about the new, and we especially bitch about the old.
The inspection of previous things ain’t to learn but to twist or eradicate. We topple monuments, change/delete words, and invent narratives that weren’t there to begin with. Why bother trying to grasp what those before us meant? Hopefully, we’re so close to hitting rock bottom that after that painful impact the only way to continue is up. Finger and toes crossed.
THE SIXTH SENSE IS A MEMBER OF A SPECIAL GROUP OF FILMS PREMIERING IN 1999. THE MUMMY, THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, EYES WIDE SHUT, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, AMERICAN BEAUTY, FIGHT CLUB, THE MATRIX ARE ONLY BUT A FEW.
They were the counteracts to that time’s intention of recycling the experiences of those who were young during the 1960s instead of allowing the current generation to have their own. Much like it’s happening today. Sadly, our nostalgia is not creative but derivative; with zero intention (or effort) of bringing anything new to the table. This saddles us with the crucial question of every Old Academy Anew installment; can we remake this film in 2024?
It’s in poor taste to answer a question with another, but I have to. Why would we need to make this movie today? To be able to gender/race swap characters? To eliminate “questionable” scenes, like a grown man following a little kid; a tiny boy peeing only in his underwear; or a stepmother killing her stepchild? No.
There’s neither logical nor artistic reason to remake this movie today or ever. Not even for a sequel; Gladiator (2000) anyone? This kind of esoteric exploration of what we leave behind, of what remorse does to our souls cannot be remade today; especially not with the people in charge of our entertainment: recalcitrant activists and greedy corporations.
Let the spirits alone– even if we end up wearing thermal gear all year round. 8 out of 10 because Toni Collette was too distracting in those black lacy bras.
The Sixth Sense is currently available to stream, just about everywhere.