One could argue that, after fully enduring The Ring to its conclusion, it features one of the most convoluted premises of all time. Here's a movie where literally, if one waits but a few minutes at any point, the plot will change its direction and logic entirely, thus striving to make sure its viewer doesn't spend too long thinking about its numerous implausibilities. Such an effort by the filmmakers, though intended to be sly, is self-destructive. Rather than leave a scary impression by virtue of its creepy mood and overall fear factor, by the time the credits roll, a tidal wave of unanswered questions take complete control and confirm the suspicion that any movie without clearcut forethought or ability to follow along with it is a hollow experience indeed.
The worst and most nagging part is that it didn't even have to be this way. Successful horror movies are based around the simplest of concepts. All an eager viewer requires is a protagonist, an antagonist and a few chases, and the rest often takes care of itself. In contrast, by the end of The Ring, the antagonist is still never properly identified. While the hero is clearly Naomi Watts, it's far more difficult to decipher who the villain really is. Who is sitting around putting together video montages that require elaborate study from TV station equipment to be viewed? Who is selecting the specific -- or random -- victims that will die a horrible death 7 days after they answer the telephone from watching a rental video? Is it Death him/herself who is serving notice? If so, then how does one explain the figure whom Watts discovers near the end of the film and how does that character figure into everything from the first hour of the movie? I ask rhetorically, because with a disappointment of this kind it makes no difference to me what the answer actually ends up being.
The film earns wannabe points for having a faux montage before the feature begins, leading one to believe your tape marks you as the next potential victim. It's a novel idea, and the only one in the script that makes any sense. From there, the movie itself begins and the audience meets an investigative reporter named Rachel (Watts) who becomes curious about a teenager's death. As mentioned above, she begins to believe that watching a specific tape -- including copies made of it -- is the equivalent of a death sentence. Call in the ex-boyfriend (Martin Henderson) and a Sixth Sense-like son (David Dorfman) and you've got a bona fide supernatural caper. Trouble is, the movie takes Rachel in all sorts of directions, some of which are not even clearly laid out as leads and at some points she does not even let the audience in on these revelations. The clues she follows are terribly suspect and, by the time some of the mystery payoffs supposedly arrive, they do nothing but raise further and sillier questions.
The Ring is directed by Gore Verbinski, and, while all the visual elements seem to be in place, almost everything else is missing. None of the characters are sympathetic, much less likable, and the performances are consistently monotonous. The score is jarring for all the wrong reasons; we don't know why the scary chords are putting Rachel in peril. Verbinski's editing is particularly offensive in one scene where I suspected I'd seen an image flash before my eyes momentarily. I rewound the tape, advanced it again on freeze frame, and sure enough a sharp cut of an image from the montage was inserted smack dab into a sequence subliminal-style. This is, of course, the last hope of hack Hollywood drive-in directors, and it wouldn't surprise me if similar intercut images are sliced all the way through the picture. Nevertheless, the movie has garnered a tidy sum at the box office and achieved a mild degree of cult popularity, in spite of the vagueness of its elaborate story and its attempt to be taken seriously while a nagging, underlying coyness is ever-present. Not to mention the fact that more and more people nowadays are opting to rent DVD's -- not tapes. Okay, okay, small point, I know.
