From the giddy heights of the The Sixth Sense, which was nominated for six Academy Awards including Best Picture and Best Director to the galling lows of the The Last Airbender, which was nominated for nine Golden Raspberry Awards of which it “won” five including Worst Director, Worst Picture and my favourite Worst Eye-Gouging Mis-Use of 3D, it would be fair to say that M. Night Shyamalan’s recent films have misfired like a Trident missile. However, his latest movie Split starring James McAvoy as a man suffering from dissociative identity disorder (DID) proves that he has rediscovered his mojo. He may not have hit the bullseye, but on numerous occasions his Master of Suspense darts pepper the 25.

James McAvoy is the dog’s bollocks (sorry, the mutt’s nuts). And on three separate occasions shapeshifts from one character to the next faster than Tommy Copper during his infamous hat sketch: in the office of his sweet and maternal therapist Dr Karen Fletcher (Betty Buckley) who contends that those with shattered personalities are more and not less than us, “capable of something we are not”; in a locked basement in front of three teenage girls (Haley Lu Richardson, Jessica Sula, Anya Taylor-Joy) whom he has kidnapped with a view of offering as sacrificial lambs to the latest of his 24 alter egos The Beast; and before a series of cracked mirrors towards the end of the film when he declares with sequel-hinting triumphalism: “Let [The Beast] show how powerful we can be.”

Crumb by name and crumb by nature, Kevin Wendell Crumb has been reduced to a shadow of a man after suffering years of abuse from his malevolent mother. “The Horde” of split personalities created as protective shields from her torture, which he later uses to torture the “untouched” – fortunate souls like two of his three captives who have sailed through life without so much as a smack on the bahookie or a penny short in their pocket money. An accusation which cannot be levelled at Casey (Anya Taylor-Joy), a social outsider whose rebellious behaviour is largely down to the “hands-on” approach adopted by her creepy uncle John (Brad William Henke). A cross she has borne for years which turns out to be her saviour.

As for Mr Crumb and his multiple personalities, five are given prominence: Hedwig, a nine-year-old girl with a lisp who likes to dance to Kanye West “etcetera” in her bedroom; Barry, a camp fashion designer seeking therapy for “garden-variety issues”; Dennis, a stern-faced bloke with OCD who gets his kicks out of watching young girls dance naked; Patricia, a soft-spoken Englishwoman with a penchant for turtlenecks and Pashmina shawls; and, finally, the enigmatic Beast whom Dr Fletcher dismisses as a “fantasy” but Barry hails as a “sentient creature who represents the highest point of human evolution”. To unravel the mystery, you’ll have to split with the best part of a tenner.

In his first film since The Visit which was a hit at the box office but panned by some critics, Shyamalan has gathered around him a fine team of creatives including editor Luke Franco Ciarrocchi who worked on several of his previous films, composer West Dylan Thordson (Joy, Foxcatcher) and cinematographer Mike Gioulakis whose impressive photography injected a delightful otherworldliness into the joy that was It Follows. All of whom combine to edge Split well away from The Last Airbender end of Shyamalan’s spectrum of movies. Though with its televisual look, low-key rather than big-bang finish, and despite McAvoy’s wonderful performance(s) a lack of life-or-death tension, it falls somewhat short of The Sixth Sense. But for me there’s no split decision: it’s a thumbs up!

M. Night Shyamalan

Film courtesy of: Universal Pictures

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Peter Callaghan
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