Orphan (2009)

The ubiquitous (at least here in New York) billboards are right. There is definitely something about Orphan’s Esther. Unfortunately, I can’t say that something is a good scary movie.

The Colemans have been having a rough time of it lately, what with mom Kate (Vera Farmiga) giving birth to a stillborn about a year before the story of Orphan begins. This loss plunges her into a year-long bout with depression and alcoholism that endangers not only her already strained marriage to husband John (Peter Saarsgard) but also their two living children, mop-topped, pre-adolescent Daniel (Jimmy Bennett) and cherubic, deaf Max (Aryana Engineer). So naturally with their heads finally emerging just above water, the Colemans decide to adopt.

Enter Esther (Isabelle Fuhrmann). Living in a local home for girls run by Sister Abigail (CCH Pounder), Esther is sweet, smart, and a Russian orphan so far from home. But don’t let her freckled face, precocious charms, and Victorian-doll wardrobe—complete with ribbons for her hair, neck, and wrists—fool you. As soon as John and Kate get her home to their stark, massive house on the edge of the snowy woods (again, naturally) she starts in on her evil ways. First, it’s some poor defenseless animals. Then she sets her sights on the family’s poor defenseless children. Before long, the film’s poor defenseless adults are all prey for this girl with such a penchant for violence, you start to wonder if the Russian mafia has a junior league.

Therein lies the rub. Or should I say "rube"…because the Coleman family is chock-full of them. From the emotionally fragile mother to the goofy and gullible father, with a dash of naive nun for good measure, writers David Johnson and Alex Mace have created a group of victims that are so stock and one-dimensional that the film often veers into unintended hilarity. Take, for example, the moment when Esther finally gets her dearest daddy alone, dresses herself up in mommy’s sexiest LBD, and turns on her very best Russian Lolita act. John actually breaks down in hiccupping sobs in her arms! I couldn’t help it: I let out a big belly laugh and heard the rest of the theater giggle (or groan) along with me.

Also laughable are both the acting and directing, neither of which even attempt to rescue the shallow well of a script. Between lame-duck, phoned-in performances by the usually quite talented Saarsgard and Farmiga and Furhmann’s too-creepy portrayal of the titular villainess, there’s no one for whom to root.

Meanwhile, director Jaume Collet-Sera, who also has the dubious honor of having House of Wax on his resume, borrows heavily (and unsubtly) from much better thrillers such as The Good Son and The Hand that Rocks the Cradle. There is a treehouse scene, a greenhouse scene, and an ice pond scene, none of which are as thrilling as the originals, making Orphan seem all the more limp in comparison. Moreover, even though Collet-Sera makes the audience wait for what feels like ages before the first blood is shed, he is too eager to resort to the predictable thriller-film bag of tricks right from the start: the trite orchestral soundtrack, the scenes shot from behind at reflective surfaces, and THE TWIST.

I’ll admit that Orphan’s twist is a doozy, original and completely unexpected. But the rest of the movie is so long (122 minutes), slow, and plodding that it’s hardly compensatory. Ultimately, I’d rather have watched a movie about that other John and Kate. Theirs, at least, promises to deliver some real gore.