The core elemental ideas behind superhero paradigms and archetypal comic book tropes—the secret identity, the alter-ego, the evil masterplan, the origin story and more— are explored, pushed, but deconstructed beyond their limits in director M Night Shyamalan’s initially engaging, but ultimately rough and jagged “Glass,” the third film in his unconventional superhero and so-called Eastrail 177 trilogy.
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A belated 19-years-later post-hoc sequel to 2000’s “Unbreakable” and continuation of the story unveiled in 2016’s secretly connected “Split”—which only revealed its existence in the same “Unbreakable” cinematic universe in a surprise concluding end tag—“Glass” is ambitious in its grand intentions and mythology making. A little dopey, but terrifically crafted with suspense, until it’s not, and overextends itself, “Glass,” acts as meta-commentary on superheroes and their pervasiveness in our culture. But the self-referential winking is a thin line; what begins as a clever observation of heroic and villain archetypes, soon devolves into an unintentional embrace of clichés that becomes overwrought.
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And don’t bother if you don’t know the previous films. “Glass” picks up where “Split” ends, “Unbreakable” protagonist David Dunn (Bruce Willis) becoming aware of the schizophrenic Kevin Wendell Crumb’s (James McAvoy) superhuman persona known as The Beast. Known to the public as the mysterious vigilante The Overseer, with the help of his now-adult son Joseph (the same Spencer Treat Clark, now 31-years-old) playing the mission control guy-in-the-chair role, Dunn sets out on a mission to track down the Beast and uncover his connection to a newly-reported case of abducted girls.
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Through various machinations, both men are captured and sent to a mental institution that already houses Elijah Price, aka Mr. Glass (Samuel L. Jackson), the wheelchair-confined comic-book theorist and terrorist with brittle-bone disease from “Unbreakable,” who has been sedated for years. There, they are scrutinized by Dr. Ellie Staple (Sarah Paulson), a psychiatrist who treats patients suffering from delusions of grandeur syndrome and claims to have three days to disabuse the men of their superheroic notions.
“Glass,” in typical Shyamalan fashion, then slowly unspools like a mystery, more so than a superhero film, with each character slowly revealing their true intentions; you know it’s all building towards a big coming out party of some sort. Thrown in the everything-goes big stew are Casey Cooke (Anya Taylor-Joy), the kidnapping victim and sole survivor of “Split,” and Mrs. Price (Charlayne Woodard), Elijah’s still-concerned mother.
Thematically always on the nose and featuring characteristically tin-eared Shyamalan dialogue, “Glass” is still intriguing and watchable in its first half, but frustrates as it buckles under the weight of its pretensions and self-perceived cleverness in the second section. There’s a sense of drama and urgency throughout which helps, but one does get the sense Shyamalan thinks he’s painting his masterpiece.
Highlights remain, nevertheless, and surprisingly, many of the best ones are poignant and distressing, especially the affecting ideas of trauma and the deeply wounding existential loneliness of feeling different from the rest of the world. Shyamalan’s greatest strength is using his motifs to engender empathy for his villains; irreparably broken people who are mortally bitter, spiritually injured and even profoundly dejected for never knowing where they fit in the world.
The writer/director finds the most emotionally bruising mileage through the moving story of Kevin and the logical extension of his arc as a tragic figure and victim exploited by the world now turned archangel of vengeance against those who have never experienced true suffering. To that end, another highpoint is the relationship between Kevin—a dexterous McAvoy, flipping through the personalities of the Horde like a kaleidoscopic viewfinder which is thrilling to watch— and Casey, their connection, sense of empathy, compassion, and Casey’s story of reclamation. It’s not only deeply emotional, but thematically resonant. Likewise, the incorporation of never-before-seen footage from “Unbreakable” representing David Dunn or Joseph’s memories, is surprisingly moving in its depiction of the huge burdens the character has had to bear over the years.
Unfortunately, while Shyamalan creates excellent and meaningful emotional stakes, he never quite converts the fundamental ideas of tragedy and sadness into something special, and often, you feel like he’s almost there. He has a bigger enchilada to deal with: orchestrating the secrets of two movies together, a bunch of big reveals to unmask “Scooby Doo” style and a greater universe to ta-da! unfurl like one of his many, not-always-successful magic tricks. It’s a lot to take on, but you’ll at least be relieved to know one of the twists isn’t “Glass” recast as (*fake spoiler alert*) a secret sequel to “Signs” (yes, the movie’s capable of something that dumb, but blessedly does not go there).
Shyamalan is a classic over-explainer who must be somewhat insufferable at parties. He doesn’t trust the intelligence of his viewer and his ending—which practically halts in its tracks several times to explain itself— is a truly underwhelming non-starter that lacks self-awareness. The film’s purposefully slow-burning and symphonic build to its climax is entertainingly tense and absorbing on a cinematic level. But Shyamalan, seemingly enamored with his own story and the isn’t-it-impressive? universe and lore he’s created, cannot stick the landing. “Glass” unravels hard in its spell-everything-out, twist-heavy third act which also suffers from a resounding anticlimactic dud of an ending, despite the director’s best efforts to frame it as something gloriously epic and melodramatic.
That ending— which can’t really be explained, for lack of time, space, and to avoid spoilers— is really something, but suffice it to say, it’s a bit baffling, promising so much on that it cannot deliver and features a truly misplaced and unearned sense of its own potency.
It’s hard to know your true self-image, when you hardly knew who you were in the first place, Shyamalan says in his cinematic vision about belief, identity, lack thereof, self-recognition, brokenness, and purity. Ultimately, “Glass” is a killer concept that suffers from a wobbly execution. Shyamalan nails the intimate stuff, but that third act is just bound to shatter and confound audience expectation. [C+/B-]