Rated R for language and some violent content
Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Ivana Mino, Stephen Tobolowsky, Samantha Mathis
Director: Rodrigo Cortes
Try to imagine it. Or better yet, don't. I don't know if Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) ever imagined a scenario like this when he opted for employment driving a relief supply truck through the Iraq landscape, but here he is... trapped in a coffin below ground, armed with only a lighter and a captor-provided cell phone. Time and oxygen a rapidly dwindling commodity. The idea is sick.
"Buried" is an audacious little bit of filmmaking. The entire movie is set inside the coffin that houses our protagonist. Audacity in film can be quite the asset. ("The Blair Witch Project", "Memento", and "Open Water" come to mind as financially successful endeavors bred from the inventiveness of their concepts.) Sometimes, however, an out-of-the-box approach to cinematic storytelling can work against a movie if the audience is unable to connect with the way the narrative is being presented. Here is a movie that lies somewhere in the middle. It wasn't a box-office hit, even though this is virtuoso filmmaking. I suspect the concept was a little too effective for its own good.
This review is a positive one. I admired the hell out of the craftsmanship on display here. Not only from director Rodrigo Cortes and screenwriter Chris Sparling, but from the performance of Reynolds who, given the physical limitations inherent in this type of story, does a masterful job of conveying both the psychological effect this could have on the mind as well as the resourcefulness when given slight glimmers of hope that he may yet see the light of day. Despite my glowing admiration, I waste no time is saying this cinematic experience is not for everyone.
I'm sure you can imagine how a good portion of the movie plays out. Director Cortes uses a variety of techniques to convey the claustrophobic nature of the situation. There are a few lengthy stretches of time where we sit in total darkness and only hear the sounds of scraping, cussing, and gasping, as Conroy struggles to locate his lighter. Then there is the scene where the cell phone vibrates and flashes for the first time, but we see it rests near his feet. We're then forced to imagine the horror of attempting to slide the phone from the far end of the coffin upward before the vibration stops. It's brutal.
Once he grasps the phone and begins calling, a whole new kind of horror unfolds. This is where the movie shows its true effectiveness. We're not only made to imagine the physical torture an experience like this could have, but we begin to sense the unsettling notion of being "forgotten" by the outside world. Conroy first dials 911, then tries 411 and asks for an FBI field office, but try explaining your situation to someone half a world away. I felt almost as exasperated as Conroy when hearing the verbal responses to his pleas for help. It's not cruelty on the part of those on the phone's other end; merely the laid-back relative indifference we've grown accustomed to in daily verbal interaction. But when the air you're currently breathing dissipates by the second, that indifference is an additional choke hold.
There are a few specific conversations that cut deepest. One involves his captor, who he tries explaining that he's not a soldier; merely a contractor. The captor isn't fazed. "Contractor. Blackwater?" he asks accusingly. He orders him to make a ransom video using the phone camera. Another involves his mother, who resides at a hospice and suffers from Alzheimer's. The most excruciating conversation for me, however, involved the personnel director for the contractor Conroy works for. Voiced by Stephen Tobolowsky, he listens to Conroy's pleas, sympathizes, then activates a recorder to get on record Conroy's termination from the company, and because the termination happened while he is alive, his family will not receive any financial compensation in the unfortunate event of his death. Sick.
He finally gets through to Dan Brenner (Robert Paterson), who leads the investigations into those reported missing in the area. Conroy is given various instructions, including one to not record the video for the captors. Later, after receiving word from the terrorists that his friend will be shot if he doesn't comply, he agrees. This doesn't sit well with Brenner. "Why the hell did you make that video?" he asks. "It's all over YouTube. Now the terrorists have no choice but to go through with their threat." Conroy sees through this, accuses Brenner of trying to suppress bad press. He is fundamentally correct here. Common sense shines a floodlight on the falsehood of Brenner's statement. If you've been buried in a coffin with the means provided to make your own ransom video, there's no reason for the captors to dig him back up. Why expend the energy? Brenner knows this, too. His desire to find those missing I believe to be genuine, but he's clearly measuring the decreasing possibility of Conroy's escape against his orders from the image-conscious military brass.
Brenner later calls, informs Conroy that he is tracking the cell phone's signal, is getting closer to his location, and to hang in there. Hope weighed against the cruel fate of time and rapidly-thinning air. Seconds tick. The stench of death floods the coffin. Gasps escape Conroy's mouth; each one might be his last. Help is on its way. Getting closer. Gasps. Cries. A ticket into the next world? Or the chance that light will find its way through the top of the coffin. Hope dwindling, but not quite dead. More gasps. More cries. Quick, shallow breaths.
Sick, sick stuff.
* * * 1/2 out of * * * * stars
