It
takes advanced psychological training to really delve into a suspect’s inner
psyche, but not in Danny Miller’s case. You tell just by looking at him he is
an unhinged psychopath. Partly it is the piercing stare, but the total
disregard for personal space does not help either. When he starts stalking the
forensic psychologist who helped convict him of murder, the white bread Tom
Seymour should just violate his parole, but instead he obsesses right back in
Bette Gordon’s The Drowning (trailer here), which opens
today in New York.
While
perambulating in sleepy Connecticut, Seymour and his wife Lauren pull a would
be suicide out of the drink and resuscitate him. Much to his surprise, Seymour
subsequently learns this was the creepy minor he helped incarcerate. Of course,
he cannot tell his wife any of this, so she is rather baffled why he acts so
standoffish whenever Miller comes around to thank them, over and over again.
Apparently,
Seymour cut a few ethical corners in his original examination, but the
relentless stalker behavior ought to confirm justice was done. However, his
in-the-know parole officer has gone over to Team Miller and is pressuring Seymour
to play nice.
Basically,
The Drowning is one long face-palm of
a film. Talk about doing things the hard way. If there is ever a perversely
difficult option, these characters will go for it every time. Seriously, you
would think Seymour would find a way to tell his wife, “look, I can’t spell it
out, but I know this guy from my work, so be careful.” Conversely, you would hope
she would get suspicious constantly running into him in the City at the Ace
Hotel, Magnolia Bakery, Chelsea Piers, and the Gagosian gallery. Quell
coincidence.
As
Seymour the head-shrinker, Josh Charles is dull enough to pass for someone who
prefers CT to NYC. Frankly, Julia Stiles is one of the most under-rated screen
actresses working today, but here she is stuck playing one of the most
unintuitive characters to ever navigate the streets of Lower Manhattan. Avan
Jogia plays Miller to the hilt, gluttonously chewing the scenery. We appreciate
the effort, but it makes the underlying premise all the more difficult to buy
into. At least we can still count on John C. McGinley to spread some sunshine
as Seymour’s former-dodgy prosecutor-turned-dodgy defense attorney friend.
