The Desperate Hour, 2022.
Directed by Phillip Noyce.
Starring Naomi Watts, Colton Gobbo, and Sierra Maltby.
SYNOPSIS:
A mother desperately races against time to save her child as authorities place her small town on lockdown.
If anything about The Desperate Hour looks familiar, that’s because it premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival last year under the title Lakewood. Granted, it’s not exactly rare a movie gets a name change upon getting purchased by a distributor, but in this case, one can’t shake the feeling that after the abysmal critical reception following its premiere, Vertical wanted to market this by getting away from that title. If I, who didn’t even go to that virtual festival, went “ohhhh” upon realizing what this movie was in the PR email, it’s not hard to imagine a distributor taking every measure possible to change around that title and pivot to marketing solely based on the presence of Naomi Watts.
Also, I wouldn’t say I like to go into movies with awareness or feeling I’m about to watch a trainwreck (Dear Evan Hansen, Cats, etc. are all movies I kept an open mind for despite the Internet dunking on them for months up until release and beyond), but The Desperate Hour, Lakewood, whatever you want to call it, is seriously that bad. Mind you, not necessarily from an acting standpoint, as Naomi Watts probably came onto this project with positive intentions. However, that goodwill is roughshod bulldozered over by some of the most inept, despicable, manipulative, and tasteless storytelling that we will see all year.
Directed by Philip Noyce (somehow continuing a sharp decline in movie quality) and written by Chris Sparling, The Desperate Hour sees Naomi Watts’ Amy Carr trying to get her detached and depressed teenage son Noah out of bed for school. They have a bit of a fractured relationship following dad’s tragic death. Upon suggesting a family movie night (Amy also has a daughter in elementary school), she heads out for a daily morning jog which takes her away from civilization while juggling various phone calls with everyone from her parents to car mechanics to work to friends. Soon after getting a sense of this routine, an emergency notification alerts Amy to an immediate shutdown of schools.
Stuck in the middle of the woods (the scenic photography is the only other working element here, with several aerial shots showing off a colorful vibrancy to the autumn trees), Amy frantically calls the elementary school to make sure her daughter is okay but is also made aware that the danger is in the high school and that Noah likely did go to school as evident by their white truck in the parking lot. Soon after, gunshots are confirmed, with Amy promptly enlisting the service of a Lyft driver to get to the school. She will still have to run for almost an hour to meet with the driver.
The problem is not that the filmmakers are trying to wring tension from a fictional school shooting, as a case could be made that if explored with appropriate sensitivity and thoughtfulness, theoretically, anything could work. Here, it’s a sentimental journey of emotional manipulation that has Amy questioning whether or not she was there for her son enough mentally and if he can be the active shooter, which becomes more probable as the police investigate and talk to her. It’s a sensation that wears her down, zapping the running energy out of her. It’s only when new information comes to light that her son might not be the killer that she springs forth with intensity to reach that school and find out the truth once and for all.
Admittedly, this does make for a challenging physical performance on behalf of Naomi Watts, but honestly, how can you even begin to give a shit when the story is this tacky and poorly designed? Even if you are interested in the setup, the proceedings boil down to a repetitive hour of watching Amy run with purpose, making many more phone calls in the process. And when she does reach the Lyft driver and continues various conversations in the backseat, the driver may as well be invisible, shockingly not concerned regarding her distress, only given something to say when Amy’s phone battery dies. That’s the kind of garbage incompetent script being dealt with here.
Unsurprisingly, the ending is just as insulting as everything else in The Desperate Hour, centering on Amy’s life and experience as the only thing that matters within this tragedy. Ending credits footage speaking out about school shootings rings false. The Desperate Hour is a morally repugnant disaster.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ / Movie: ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
