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Shouldn’t have asked for a room with a killer view
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The first 10 minutes of “Vacancy” get the nails-on-chalkboard sound of a bad marriage so totally right, you might think you wandered into one of those depressing movies by that Swedish guy [Editor’s note: Ingmar Bergman].
But stick with it, because it winds up being a down-and-dirty, sicko thriller — though it sort of wastes Kate Beckinsale by not letting her wear any of her leather “Underworld” gear.
She plays the wife of Luke “Waste of Food” Wilson, and they’re driving in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, staying awake by hating on each other, big-time.
When Luke swerves to miss a raccoon in the road and nearly wrecks, Kate snarks out at him, going, “Better to kill us than get a little roadkill on the car?”
But he gives it back as good as he got. He goes, “We’re still alive — I can tell by the [PO’ed] look you’re giving me.”
Man, this was making me remember my days married to LaDonna, and I about thought I was gonna have to get up and sneak into some other movie. Then it turns out something in the engine busted when the car swerved, but luckily — at least, that’s how it looks at first — they coast into a garage out there in Nowhere Central, and just sort of think nothing of it when the mechanic (Ethan Embry) shows up to help them — even though it’s way after 1 in the a.m.
He fiddles with engine and says they’re good to go. And Luke tries to pay him, but Ethan goes, “I should pay you for finally giving me something to do.”
Trouble is, the something-to-do that he’s talking about isn’t pumping gas.
Kate and Luke decide to crash for a few hours in the sleazebucket hotel next to the gas station. And they maybe should’ve given that a second think, just because of the super-creepy manager — played by Frank Whaley, who looks exactly like a chihuahua if you made it wear Coke-bottle glasses and a John Waters mustache and glued a cheap rug to its head.
Now, here’s some trivia for you: Embry (the mechanic) played the brat in that movie “Dutch,” and Whaley (the manager) was in “Career Opportunities.” And both of those were shot in Georgia and came out in 1991.
Coincidence? You decide.
Oh, and Whaley’s leading lady in “Career Opportunities”? None other than Jennifer Connelly, back in the days when she was the LAST actress you’d think could ever win an Oscar. “Career Opportunities” [inhales vigorously] but it’s worth fast-forwarding for the scene where Jennifer rides a mechanical pony, and she’s wearing this really tight white tank top — but I need to stop thinking about that.
Anyway, Kate and Luke check into a room at Whaley’s sleaz-o-rific hotel. And though there are a lot of scary scenes in the rest of the movie, the only one that made somebody in the theater shout out, “Oh, [darn]!” was when Kate turned on the bathroom light and there was this jimongous roach crawling over the switch by her hand.
She and Luke sit around in the room and gripe at each other some more. And they talk about getting their divorce papers signed after this “last great adventure together.”
Which is, like, almost famous last words. Because Luke shoves a video into the room’s VCR and — I’m not spoiling this, OK, since it’s alllll over the trailer — he realizes he’s watching a real-live snuff film. Shot in a hotel room. The hotel room he and Kate are filling up with their marital hate.
And, yeah, ol’ chihuahua head back in the main office has cameras trained on them. And he and two bloodthirsty boondocks buddies wearing camouflage makeup are soon gonna be pounding on Kate and Luke’s door with plans on gutting them as their next Feature Presentation.
It’s kinda like “The Truman Show,” only for pervs.
“Vacancy” is a lot better than I expected. It’s quick and short, and it gets most of its scares honestly — instead of having people suddenly pop into the frame while the soundtrack buzzes like a chainsaw.
And the movie has a message that’s hard to dispute: If your marriage is going down the Port-O-Let and the two of you need reminding that you used to love each other and need to make things work out, there’s worse couples therapists than three crazy guys with video cameras and a lot of sharp knives — am I right?
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