1999 Buena Vista Pictures
Written and Directed by: M. Night Shyamalan
Starring: Bruce Willis, Toni Collette, Olivia Williams, and Haley Joel
Osment
MPAA Rating: PG-13; Running Time: 108 MinutesThe Nicsperiment Score: 10/10I was on a youth group
trip in late July of 1999, weeks before my senior year of high school, when my
good friend Jonathan LeBlanc asked me, "Have you seen the trailer for
The Sixth Sense?" I hadn't. I had no idea what
The Sixth Sense was. "It looks really good," he said. I saw nothing about
the film over the next few weeks, but I had a feeling about
The Sixth Sense, based solely on Jonathan's enthusiasm, so I bought a
couple of tickets, one for me, and one for my cousin Adrian, my movie theater
partner in crime, for opening weekend (why did I not invite the close friend who
recommended the film in the first place...who knows...). Unfortunately, back in
Baton Rouge, at yet another youth group function, just hours before the movie
was set to begin, Elizabeth Sleger foiled my plans. "Adrian," she said. "
The Sixth Sense
looks like a horror movie. What would the youth pastor think? You can't go see
that!" Unfortunately, if something was said by Liz Sleger, who we were all in
love with (including Jonathan, so maybe that's why I didn't invite him), Adrian
listened. Adrian stayed with Liz and the other kids, and I suddenly had an extra
movie ticket.
I was not deterred.
My mom, who was at that time
the opposite of my movie theater partner in crime, volunteered to go with me. My
mom was famous back then for talking over and throughout movies, asking endless
questions about not only what was going on, but what was going to happen (even
and for some reason especially if you yourself had never seen the film before).
However, though I was but weeks away from my 18th birthday and legal adulthood,
I found myself strangely affected by her gesture, and I agreed with her coming
along. Thanks to
The Sixth Sense's incredible quality, mom would only
make one comment throughout the entirety of the film (I'll get to that comment
later). Adrian would soon see the movie with me in the theater too...because I
almost immediately went back again, telling him there was no way he could let
Liz Sleger stop him from witnessing one of the greatest films ever made.
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Even its font choices are great
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The Sixth Sense blew my mind. I've only had one better moviegoing
experience--the first
Jurassic Park, in a packed 1993 theater when I
was 11.The only other theater experience that came close was
The Dark Knight at the midnight premiere in 2008, when AMC sold out all
14 of its screens, and half the audience was dressed as Heath Ledger's
Joker--what a night that was. To declare that my experience of seeing
The Sixth Sense for the first time in the theater topped that
Dark Knight night is really saying something. As I said,
The Sixth Sense blew my mind. I'd go on to purchase the DVD the next
year and watch it again and again. Now that it's been 25 years since its
release...and a few years have passed since I've last viewed it, I've gone
back to revisit it again. Do I still love
The Sixth Sense?
* * *
The Sixth Sense
begins modestly, credits blueish white text that expands, then vanishes
against a black background, set to James Newton Howard's mysterious,
foreboding score. The credits end with the phrase
WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY M. NIGHT SHYAMALAN, as the strings slither out
amidst the wail of a ghostly chorus of many voices.
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And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw
that the light was good, and he separated the light from the
darkness.
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Against the darkness, a lightbulb slowly illuminates--fitting for a film
full of major revelations. A woman in a nice purple and red dress comes down
the stairs of musty, cobwebbed cellar to grab a bottle of wine. As she pulls
it from a shelf, she suddenly pauses as if she's heard something, shivers at a
sudden brush of cold air, and quickly heads back up the stairs to her husband.
He waits in the living room of the couple's old, Gothically styled
Philadelphia town house, lights off, candles lit, fire crackling in the old
brick fireplace. An old Chet Baker jazz ballad crackles on vinyl. Less than
five minutes in, and this already feels like a ghost story.
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Is man but a reflection of his achievements?
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The couple, a children's psychologist named Malcolm Crowe, played by an
understated Bruce Willis, and his wife, Anna, an intentionally angelic Olivia
Williams, drink wine as they look at the magnificent plaque the city has
bestowed Malcolm. The couple have just arrived home from a ceremony earlier
that night, in honor of Malcom's contributions to the city. Anna lauds her
husband for his incredible work, telling him he has a "gift," mentioning that
he's put everything second, even her, for the children of the city. Despite
her comment, it's clear from the affection she shows (and the duo's shared
humor at how Malcolm sounds like Dr. Seuss when he is drunk) just how deeply
their love has grown, and it's clear that the city isn't just blowing smoke,
as the couple's fireplace shelf is adorned with countless thank you letters
from the children and families Malcolm has helped. Things become more
romantic, and the duo head upstairs, only to find a shocking surprise.
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1/5 of New Kids on the Block!
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Their bedroom window is broken, shattered glass on the floor, wind
tousling the curtain. Suddenly, a shadow moves across the wall. Anna gasps,
the two turn, and a man stands in their bathroom doorway. He's wearing nothing
but underwear, covered with scratches and bruises, and he loudly rants about
being a freak, and knowing why people are scared when they're alone. After a
tense moment, Malcolm realizes the man is Vincent Grey, one of his old
patients, now grown up. Malcolm thought Vincent was having severe mental
struggles because of his parents' divorce, but Vincent violently insists this
diagnosis was very wrong. Without warning, Vincent raises a gun, shoots
Malcolm in the stomach, turns the gun on himself, and blows his own brains
out, as the camera moves to a terrified, panicked Anna, rushing to Malcolm's
side. Fade to black as the strings slither on.
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I've come to wonder if there's a spiritual significance to this
onscreen text
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Images fade back onto the screen, a row of Philadelphia townhouses under
a grey, autumnal sky, and briefly, a text that reads
THE NEXT FALL.
Malcolm sits on a bench looking at notes, seeming markedly different than he
did earlier in the film. Gone is the jubilant, joyful man of the opening
scene. This Malcolm is more somber, wounded, like a man mentally recovering
from being shot. His new client, Cole, a nine-year-old boy played with a
prodigy's skill by Haley Joel Osment, emerges from his home, looks around
cautiously, then takes off at a full run for a local church. Malcolm finally
catches up to Cole, who's hiding between pews, playing with a mix of small
statuettes and action figures, repeating a phrase to himself in Latin, and
wearing a pair of lensless glasses his abandoning father left behind. Malcolm
apologizes for missing Cole's earlier appointment, and the duo make pleasant
small talk, before Cole says "I'm going to see you again, right?" Cole then
runs off, snatching a saint figurine from a back church shelf. Malcolm returns
home to find Anna has eaten alone and gone to bed. He heads down to his
basement office and translates Cole's Latin phrase to mean "
Out of the depths, I cry to you O Lord."
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The Sixth Sense is heavy with both spirituality AND history
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We're then introduced to Cole's home life, where he lives with his
hardworking mother, their puppy (a beautiful little Husky), and a general
sense of hauntedness. Theirs appears to be a hardscrabble existence, as the
apartment, though clean, is certainly old, and Cole's mother, Lynn, played by
an unbelievably great Toni Collette, must work two jobs so they can get by.
Lynn clearly loves Cole, but seems to be hardly holding it together. She
receives quite a fright when she momentarily leaves the room as Cole is eating
Coca Puffs, and comes back to find all the cabinets opened. From here, the
film proceeds at a steady rhythm, with Malcolm having sessions with Cole in
his home and around town, and making little headway. The seemingly
well-behaved and strikingly mature Cole is regarded as a freak by his
classmates. His maturity somehow doesn't translate to school conduct either,
as Cole has gotten in trouble for drawing violent pictures, and writing
violent, profane statements. In a remarkably tense scene, Cole even gets in a
confrontation with his teacher Stanley, not liking how the instructor is
looking at him. Cole screams "Stuttering Stanley" at the teacher repeatedly,
until an angry Stanley screams back (while suddenly stuttering) "Shut up you
freak!" and slams his fist on Cole's desk. Cole seems to harbor some hideous
secret he can't tell anyone, an awful truth from which this behavior springs.
Even Lynn, who has no idea what is actually going on, is at the end of her
rope, but things come to a violent head when Cole is attending a classmate's
birthday party,
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The fact that neither of these actors received an Oscar is further
proof of the Academy's incompetence
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At the party, Cole sees a red balloon float to the top of a spiral
staircase. He climbs up to find a small hideaway closet from which a strange
voice emerges. Two of his bullying classmates follow him up the stairs, notice
his fright, and toss him in. Cole understandably freaks out, but then things
take a turn. Cole's freak out turns histrionic...and it doesn't sound like
he's alone behind the door. Lynn rushes up the stairs, tries to get in, and
finds the door won't open. Suddenly, Cole's hysterical screaming stops, and
the door swings wide. Cole is unconscious and covered in scratches. Malcolm
meets Lynn and Cole at the hospital, where the doctor, away from Cole,
mentions the injuries, insinuating abuse. Malcolm has suspected someone is
abusing Cole, but he's seen Cole and Lynn interact enough to know that it
isn't her. He visits Cole in his bed, and the two have a conversation that
turns everything far darker than Malcolm ever imagined.
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Anybody seen Pennywise?
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Malcolm tries an icebreaker bedtime story, making up a rambling,
pointless tale about driving a car that Cole quickly dismisses. Cole, who's
also been shown to be startlingly empathetic, asks Malcolm why he's always so
sad. Malcolm asks how Cole could know that, and Cole says that Malcolm's eyes
told him. Malcolm tries deflect, but Cole turns away, not wanting to share his
secret with someone who isn't honest with him. Finally, Malcolm tells the
truth about his own life, couched in an obvious bedtime story metaphor.
Interspersed with Cole's scenes so far in the film, we've seen Malcolm fail to
connect with his wife, showing up late for their anniversary and being ignored
by Anna, as she writes the check and leaves. He even notices Anna is taking
medication for depression, something she hasn't discussed with him. Malcom
tells Cole that his marriage with Anna is floundering because of something
that happened with one of his former clients, someone who Cole reminds him of,
but who Malcolm failed to help. Malcolm thinks that helping Cole might finally
make things right, as well as help him put his life and his marriage back
together. Cole asks Malcolm how the story ends, but Malcolm admits he doesn't
know. Cole finds Malcolm's honesty and investment in helping him
comforting...and then he tells his secret. Shyamalan and Newton Howard have
incorporated sounds of people (and animals) breathing deep within the
soundscape of the film to effect the viewer's subconscious and now those
voices and Newton Howard's horrific, near Lovecraftian score grow to a fever
pitch, as Cole says:
"I see dead people...walking around like regular people...they don't see
each other...they only see what they want to see...they don't know they're
dead."
"How often do you see them?"
Malcolm asks, as Newton Howard's terrifying music elevates like a
twisted, skeletal branch toward a full, yet empty moon.
"All the time. They're everywhere."
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Michael Caine needs to track down Haley Joel Osment and give him
his The Cider House Rules Oscar, stat. He can keep the
one for Hannah and Her Sisters.
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Cole swears Malcolm to secrecy. Malcolm leaves, horrified that his
client is in a far worse mental state than he initially assessed. An car
screeches by in the distance, as Malcolm walks down the street through the
Philadelphia night, speaking into his tape recorder, coming to the horrific
conclusion, "
I'm not helping him."
From here on out, a carnival of
horrors is unleashed, as now, for the most part, we see what Cole sees.
Shyamalan, who's patiently, yet economically unfurled the plot of the film to
this point, now immediately gets to the horror goods. After bringing a
sleeping Cole home, Lynn calls the parents of one of the kids she thinks is
physically assaulting Cole, and threatens them. Shyamalan then cuts to time
transition shots, as he's done throughout the film. Earlier (and later),
Shyamalan uses timelapse video of Philadelphia statues to subtly convey the
film's themes (the statues are like ghosts...what or who they represented is
gone, yet somehow still here). For this transition of a few hours, he shows
witching hour footage, at first outside of and then inside of the Seer family
apartment, conveying a foreboding sick and haunted feeling. Cole wakes up and
has to pee, hesitates from fear, then finally runs to the bathroom. After the
big revelation scene moments before, Shyamalan has already taken his film into
memorable classic territory--the Spielberg comparisons begin there, with
Cole's revelation a CGI-free colleague to the "Welcome to Jurassic Park"
dinosaur reveal from Spielberg's terrible lizard feature...except, the
monsters here are ghosts. Now, Shyamalan shoots this first sequence of
explicit (i.e., not implied) horror in a way that immediately furthers "the
next Spielberg" accolades he received after the film's release.
Shyamalan films Cole from the bathroom doorway. The shot feels ominous,
voyeuristic, then Shyamalan cuts to a closeup of the hallway thermostat as the
temperature suddenly plummets. Cut back to the bathroom door view. Suddenly, a
figure passes by the doorway to a loud, asynchronous orchestral blast. In my
theater on first viewing, I, along with the majority of theater goers jumped
out of our seats. Several people yelled "oh shit!" because going to the movie
theater was better in the 90s. Cole turns his head to look toward the doorway,
shivers, and breathes steam. He walks toward noises suddenly coming from the
kitchen, and the camera shifts to his POV as he tentatively moves down the
hallway to the kitchen doorway. Shyamalan cuts to a shot of Cole looking into
the kitchen, as he asks, "Mama?" Shyamalan then cuts back to Cole's
view of the kitchen, as a woman in a bathroom angrily digs through the
cabinets. And then she turns around. It isn't mama.
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... |
"
No, dinner is NOT ready!" says this dark, monstrous mother.
Fresh bruises cover her swollen face. "
What are young gonna do?!" "
You can't hurt me anymore!" she bellows at Cole, as she flips over her hands, and the camera cuts to a
closeup of her slashed wrists. "
Lenny! You're a terrible husband, Lenny!" Cole turns to run, and makes a manic dash for his tent. However, as Cole
shuts the tent flap behind him, he looks back for a split second...and she's
coming...down the hallway...straight for him. Cole, sobbing hysterically,
turns on his flashlight, revealing a shrine of protection within, as he, as
directed by Shyamalan, angrily tries to get it together, but can't move past
his terrified sobs. Again, this is a nine-year-old boy, being played by a
child of similar age. I'm not sure I've ever seen a more effective scene in a
movie.
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I swear they made Osment look at a real ghost
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Maybe she's a nice lady in real life
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Nothing like showing a nine-year-old your slashed wrists
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Shouldn't have looked back
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Nightmare fuel
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I'm glad I was nearly 18 when this movie was released, and not 10,
because I don't think I would have ever gotten up to pee in the
middle of the night again
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I wonder if anyone has ever taken inventory of every distinct
figure Cole keeps in his tent
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SERIOUSLY, GET THIS KID AN AWARD!
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This scene is a traumatic experience. The entire film, sans the opening scene,
has been remarkably muted and only suggestive of horror. Not anymore. The
weight that's pressed down on the audience here by Shyamalan is incredibly
heavy. Cole isn't a troubled kid. He's a nine-year-old who, through no fault
of his own, has seen dead people, gruesomely injured and disfigured,
terrifying dead people, throughout the entirety of his life. Not just seen,
though. Confronted and attacked by. I think it may take a youthful mind to
realize just how messed up this is. In just this one instance of assumedly
thousands, Cole is faced with domestic violence, suicide, and extreme anger
and rage...and he goes through this every day of his life. Shyamalan also
expertly fuses several deep childhood fears into this scene, from the fear of
being faced with some unspeakable terror when you get up to pee at night, to
attempting to find motherly comfort only to be rejected by a horrific monster.
It's an incredible scene, and feels like the work of a master.
We then get a further breakdown of the film's rules. Malcolm meets Cole
at his school play (Lynn, who works two jobs, can't make it to school
functions), and afterward, the two walk down the school halls, where Cole
stops dead in his tracks. A family in Revolutionary-era garb hang from the
ceiling, glaring at Cole. Malcolm can't see them.
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The makeup work by Stan Winston's team is absolutely fantastic
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Often glossed over--there's a kid hanging there!
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Come a little closer, Cole
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This film has so many iconic moments, it's essentially just one
big, long one
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In a moment that invokes 1958's
Vertigo, Cole says "
Be real still. Sometimes you feel it inside, like you're falling down real
fast, but really you're really just standing still. You ever feel the
prickly things on the back of your neck? And the tiny hairs on your arm? You
know when they stand up? That's them. When they get mad, it gets
cold...please make them leave."
Shyamalan, surely realizing the film is getting extremely heavy, then inserts
a moment of levity that's another Spielbergian touch. Lynn and Cole leave a
grocery store, with Cole and a large pumpkin sitting in the cart. Lynn
suddenly gets a wild hair, and takes off running while pushing the buggy. Cole
shuts his eyes, lifts his arms, and pretends he's flying, all captured from a
camera mounted at the front of the buggy. It's movie magic.
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Presto chango
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Shyamalan follows this with yet another light moment (the first half of
the film also features some well-timed comedic moments), as Cole watches the
jerk actor kid in his class pop up on his TV in a cough syrup commercial. Cole
throws a shoe at the kitchen TV, and then Shyamalan returns to the darkness.
Lynn, bundled up, complains that despite what the landlord says, the
thermostat must be broken because it's freezing. She then sits at the table
with Cole, and as they eat, she asks him why he keeps taking his grandmother's
pendant from its place in a drawer, and moving it. Cole continuously denies
moving it...but he and Lynn live alone. Finally, Lynn loses it, yelling
"
Go!" and sending him to his room without dinner. The tragedy of this
moment is, Lynn has no idea that Cole was just being yelled at by an angry
robed woman in this very kitchen.
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There are already enough angry women yelling at him in here!
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As Cole walks down the hallway toward his room, his terrified puppy runs
past him. He turns his head to watch the dog run away, and a figure passes in
front of him, down the hallway, right in front of the tent...and into his
room. Cole turns his head to see a boy just a few years older than him, who
insists Cole come with him to see his dad's gun. The boy then turns his
head...and the bloody back of it is blown out. Shyamalan then cuts to a crying
Lynn, upset with herself and yet unsettled from the encounter she just had
with Cole, as she struggles and fails to get the now hiding and terrified
puppy from the closet. Cole approaches and asks if she's not very mad at him
(a question he asks her throughout the film with escalating emotion). She
answers (again in the same fashion throughout the film, but with escalating
emotion) to look at her face--she's not mad. He asks if he can sleep in her
bed (because there's a ghost in his room!). She says yes and then hugs him,
but finds that he's' trembling and obviously scared out of his mind. At this
point she breaks down in even greater tears and pleads with Cole to finally
tell her what is going on with him. I need to reiterate that Toni Collette and
Haley Joel Osment are giving the best mother/son performances in a movie that
I've ever seen, and that Haley Joel Osment is ten.
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I hate when strangers come over...
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Pretty sure this ghost was real, and they just happened to catch it
on camera
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Stan Winston, everybody...
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Can they still give awards to 25-year-old movies?
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Things are negatively escalating for Malcolm as well. Not only is Anna
not speaking to him, but she appears to be testing the romantic waters with
one of her coworkers. Malcolm finally decides that his work should come second
to fixing things with his wife, and in an emotionally devastating scene, tells
Cole that he can't be his doctor anymore. A sobbing Cole begs Malcolm not to
fail him, and says that he's the only one who can help. Cole pleads that
Malcolm believe his secret, and Malcolm, tearing up, can't even look at him.
"
How can you help me," Cole pleads, "
If you don't believe me? Some magic's real."
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Something fun about Shyamalan working a young Indian couple into
the script...
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The first time through, I hated this guy, but now I feel sorry for
him. How do you compete with a dead guy?!
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Bruce Willis, during his peak, never received the accolades he
deserved either. He's brilliant in the scene.
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And he had to be because he was performing opposite the acting
profession's Mozart
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Malcolm goes home, but can't abandon his client. He remembers a long ago
session with Vincent, where he had to leave the room for a moment, and came
back to find Vincent crying. Malcolm revisits the tape recording of the
session, somehow filmed in thrilling fashion through closeups by Shyamalan.
Malcolm immediately notices a comment he himself made when he returned to the
room about it being cold. He rewinds the tape to the moment he left the room
and turns the volume up as loud as he can...and hears a voice, buried deep
beneath the white noise. "
I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die," it begs Vincent in Spanish.
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Shyamalan's closeups are the best
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The aesthetic of this basement...this film...it's perfect. The
entire century in an image.
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More closeups!
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More!!! |
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That whole "the entire century in an image" caption up above was
pretentious. Sorry!
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Malcolm finds Cole playing in the church, and tells him he thinks he has
a solution to his problem. Malcolm thinks that if Cole doesn't run, but
listens to the ghosts, and tries to help them, they'll go away...even the
scary ones. Cole asks Malcolm how he knows that the ghosts aren't just angry,
evil, and want to hurt someone. Malcolm can only say he
thinks they
won't hurt Cole, to which Cole replies, "
How do you know for sure?" My
mom, miraculously, and likely spellbound, hadn't made a peep throughout the
entire film up to this point. The moment Haley Joel Osment uttered that line,
she gasped, turned to me, and whispered, "This kid is SO good!" I agree with
her.
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Doesn't matter what he did with the rest of his life.
No one can ever take this away from him.
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Shyamalan then cuts to Cole, asleep in the tent with the puppy, as
they're awakened by a voice in distress. Cole quickly realizes it's his
mother, and as we've already been shown how virtuous this child is, he leaps
from the tent (puppy following) without , accidentally tearing off the
clothespins holding it together, and runs to his mother's side. Cole quickly
realizes she's just having a nightmare wherein he is being hurt, and she's
trying to protect him. Cole comforts her in her sleep, she relaxes, and he
heads back to the tent to put it back together. That's when the next ghost
arrives. Coles rushes to finish with the tent, then dives inside, turning on
his flashlight. I refer to this next moment as the defilement of the tent.
With the dark mother ghost, Cole isn't safe from seeing the ghost, but he's
still able to hide in the tent from her. With the dead boy ghost, Cole can't
get to the tent, as the ghost is blocking his path to it. With this third
visitation, the tent is torn away, as Cole looks up to see the clothespins
being ripped off one by one. The camera pans down to the door, and the ghost
is already INSIDE THE TENT. And it's vomiting.
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The third of this film's great jump scares
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Cole runs out of the tent, as the sheet collapses on the ghost. In a
moment Shyamalan refers to in the film's DVD extras as "Removing the Myth of a
Ghost," Cole gingerly, and after a difficult battle with his fear, creeps up
to the ghost who's now covered with the red tent sheet. Human tradition has
often portrayed ghosts as someone wearing a sheet, but Cole pulls now pulls it
off to reveal a terrified, yet very dead little girl, just a few years older
than he is. She's wearing vomit-caked pajamas, and looks up at Cole to say,
"
I'm feeling much better now." Cole asks if she wants to tell him
something.
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The use of red throughout the film is masterful
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California here we come...
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Shyamalan's genius here is that he realizes his poor young protagonist,
Cole, is a victim, being terribly traumatized by events that would scar even
the hardest adult. The last person to have this gift, Vincent,
was an
adult, and he killed himself. It makes the most sense, story-wise,
thematically, and emotionally that the first ghost Cole helps is a defenseless
child who was murdered by a caregiver. The film does one of its many cuts to
black, and then we're on a bus with Malcolm and Cole, riding far out from the
heart of the city. Cole mentions that the ghost came a long way to visit him,
introducing the idea that he may be a sort of lighthouse for lost souls, that
he gives off some energy that attracts the ghosts. The bus passes a graveyard,
and the film acknowledges just how horrific everyday life is for Cole as he
quickly looks away.
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I need to mention just how great this film's pacing is. And the
hour and 45-minutes fly by!
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The duo arrive at the girl's wake. She's apparently recently deceased,
and died of some unknown disease, possibly a cancer, that slowly killed her,
and which many doctors could not diagnose or cure. Shyamalan weaves his camera
through the wake attendees so that we get bits of this information naturally
from their conversations, as well as color from the pictures on the wall. One
of the attendees mentions that now the girl's younger sister is coming down
with the same thing, to which another responds "God help them," just as the
camera focuses on and follows Cole and Malcolm as they walk up the
stairs...hinting that Cole's gift and mission is divinely appointed. As Cole
and Malcolm reach the girl's room, Cole mysteriously tells Malcolm, "
Don't go home, okay," to which Malcolm promises he won't. In another Spielbergian touch, the
camera focuses on Cole's reflection in the doorknob, as he steels himself,
then reaches out to turn it. The dimly lit room is a bit scary, covered with
marionette dolls, one of which Cole seems to have come to intentionally take,
and pockets. Then a hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs his ankle.
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The tone is also perfect. Somber, punctuated with well-timed
moments of levity. But never more somber than in this scene.
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... |
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This family portrait grows increasingly sad upon further
viewings
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"Don't go home, okay?"
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What a shot!
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Shyamalan even hits on the monster under the bed trope!
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She might be a friendly ghost...but she sure doesn't feel safe!
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It's the ghost of the girl, who slides a box forward. I particularly
enjoy that while she no longer feels like a threat, she's still absolutely
terrifying. Cole brings the box downstairs, and finds the girl's father, who's
sitting alone in his grief. Cole gives him the box, telling him that his
daughter, who we find is named Kyra, wanted to tell him something. The father
opens the box to find a VHS tape inside, sits down in his easy chair, and
watches, perhaps expecting some sort of comfort in his grief. I should mention
that as much as I (and the world) compare Shyamalan to Spielberg for this
film, James Newton Howard channels a sort of dark John Williams as Cole
approaches the father with this tape...think the kids up in a tree with Grant
and the Brachiosauruses...except the Brachiosauruses are all ghosts.
The father finds that the tape doesn't exactly contain comfort...but it does
contain the truth. It begins with Kyra performing a marionette show, then
quickly stopping and pushing the camera back so it can't be seen, as someone
approaches the room. Kyra gets into bed and feigns sleep as her mother enters
with a bowl of soup, checks to make sure Kyra is asleep, then adds a bit of a
cleaning product into the bowl. The mother has Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy,
and has been slowly poisoning her daughter to death. Kyra must have suspected
something in the days just before her death, and set up the camera to prove
it...and now the father knows. Newton Howard's music shifts into a sort of
death march, led by a muted, yet severe and demanding choir of voices, as the
father, now surrounded by wake-goers who also saw the videotape, makes his way
to the mother, dressed, as everything that touches death in this film, in red.
Again, Shyamalan shows more brilliance with his scripting here, as this dark
mother character echoes Cole's earlier experience--he went to the kitchen,
thinking he would receive the comfort of his mother, only to be confronted by
a monster in a bathrobe...and Kyra, also trusting in the care of her mother,
was subsequently poisoned to death by her. Meanwhile, Cole has gone outside to
speak to Kyra's little sister. He gives her the doll he took from Kyra's room,
and lets her know everything will be okay, comforting her as Malcolm looks on.
It seems Cole has now found his path. Malcolm was wrong. He not only could
help Cole, but did. "Is Kyra coming back?" asks the sister. "Not anymore," Cole answers.
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Again, the light behind Cole furthers the themes of illumination
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There's a near fetishization of analog media formats in this film
AND I LOVE IT
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Greg Wood doesn't even have his own Wikipedia page, but he sure
made the best of his five minutes in this film!
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Perhaps the only purely evil character in the film...and even
she may have a sympathetic backstory, though NOTHING excuses
her actions
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Interestingly enough, this is the only moment in the film to
feature grass, and I wonder if it's done to symbolize that Cole is
headed for greener pastures. Also, I love this shot.
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The fade out here is gentler, as the film moves forward a bit in time,
and Cole sits in a dressing room, being attended by a middle-aged woman with
which he shares gentle conversation. Stuttering Stanley, the play's director,
comes in, and tells Cole it's time, and asking him who he was talking to. The
woman walks away, looking back to reveal a charred face. Cole says he was just
practicing his lines, then walks out with Stanley, aka, Mr. Cunningham,
relationship healed (Mr. Cunningham has cast Cole as King Arthur to patch
things up. Mr. Cunningham mentions that there was once a horrible fire in this
wing of the building, and Cole answers that he knows. Cole is the lead in the
play (Tommy, the bully, plays the village idiot), and the other kids appear to
have accepted him. Malcolm watches proudly. After the play, the two share
their goodbyes. Cole, having just played King Arthur, swings Excalibur around
confidently, then tells Malcolm he has an idea about how Malcolm can talk to
Anna. "
Wait till she's asleep. Then she'll listen to you, and she won't even know
it;" then, "
Not going to see you anymore, am I." Malcolm answers, "
I think we said everything we needed to say. Maybe it's time to say things
to someone closer to you."
Cut to a dolly shot, starting at a police flare, as the camera moves
through a traffic jam, finally stopping at Lynn and Cole's car. Lynn thinks
Cole is being quiet because he's angry she missed his play...she always misses
his school functions because she has to work two jobs. Cole is able to then
segue into the conversation he's been avoiding the entire film. He tells his
mom that he knows why traffic is stopped. There was an accident and a lady
died. Lynn asks how Cole knows this. He answers that the lady is standing next
to his window. He then brings up his grandmother and why she is always moving
her old pendant. Lynn gets angry, thinking Cole has spoken in bad taste...and
then Cole proceeds to tell Lynn things he has no business knowing. A key point
is that Cole knows Lynn's mom once attended one of Lynn's dance recitals after
an argument between the two, when Lynn thought she wasn't there. Finally, Lynn
knows: Cole sees dead people. Cole even refers to the ghosts as "
the ones that used to hurt me," meaning that he's now at the point where he can actively help them without
fear or injury (the theater woman is further proof). Shyamalan once again
shows brilliance here, by bringing in a generational wound that Lynn is now
unintentionally perpetuating on Cole (missing his performances), and Cole is
effectively defeating. Cole and Lynn break down in tears and embrace, as Cole
gives Lynn the answer to an unanswered question from the grandmother that he
himself hasn't heard, "
Every day," says Cole. Lynn's question was "
Do I make you proud?" By this point, only a sociopath or a nihilist has dry eyes. And the film
isn't over.
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GIVE THESE TWO AN AWARD
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Malcolm arrives home. Anna is watching their wedding video, an activity
she's partaken in throughout the film. She's fallen asleep, and Malcolm takes
the opportunity to follow Cole's advice...and Anna answers him! Unfortunately,
her answer is, "
Malcolm...why did you leave me?" Malcolm starts to
argue, and then Anna drops something that rolls to Malcolm's feet...his
wedding ring. Malcolm looks down at his now trembling hand. There's no ring.
He stumbles back against the wall. James Newton Howard scores this moment
apocalyptically, perfect for this 1999 moment of fin de siècle. Malcolm
flashes back to the instant he was shot. In that moment, he falls back on the
bed, as Anna rushes to his side. He tries to dismiss the injury, but as Anna
rolls Malcolm on his side, it becomes clear the bullet pierced his spleen, and
blood has spilled out everywhere. The curtain flutters, and Malcolm's soul
leaves his body. He's dead. Malcolm died. He's a ghost.
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Haunt You Every Day
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The transition from Malcolm against the wall to Malcolm in bed is
yet again another moment of visual mastery
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I can't stress enough how shocking this moment was to my fellow Baton
Rouge theater-goers. Gasps, exclamations of "
What?!" "
No!"
"
Wow!" Nothing in a movie has surpassed that singular moment for me. If
movie magic ever existed, it fully inhabited the first time 1999 audiences
witnessed this twist. On the way out of the theater, one troll starting trying
to shout the secret to people walking in, and all of my audience shouted him
down until he stopped. Almost no one told their friends this twist. When
Adrian came with me to finally see
The Sixth Sense for himself, no one
had prepared him for that moment or spoiled it for him. It never even crossed
my mind to do so. Nearly everyone who saw the movie kept the ending a secret
because nearly everyone who saw the movie wanted others to experience that
moment for themselves, they way they had. Now, in 2024, the secret would be on
Twitter before the movie was even released. 1999 was simply a better
time.
Cole quickly goes through the five steps of grief. Anna
breathes big clouds of steam as Cole goes through anger. Finally, he accepts
his fate. He's dead, and now that he's nearly accomplished what he's remained
here as a ghost to finish, he must prepare to move on. He has one final task,
though. He walks back to Anna, and tells her that she was never second. Their
affection in the opening scene and Anna's grief proves that this was true.
Cole tells her that he's found peace, and that everything will be different
for her in the morning. Anna smiles in her sleep, and tells Malcolm goodnight.
He says goodnight in return, shuts his eyes, and after the movie has
continuously cut or faded to black throughout, Shyamalan fades to white, the
last very intentional, brilliant choice in a film full of intentional,
brilliant choices. In the white, Shyamalan briefly shows wedding footage of
Malcolm and Anna kissing, set to the most resonant and cathartic chord James Newton Howard can compose. Then cut to black, as A FILM BY M. NIGHT SHYAMALAN
fills the screen.
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She really does look like an angel throughout the film, though it
turns out Cole's the one headed for the afterlife
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Man, I love this movie
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I don't care if he made 50 After Earths after this, he made
The Sixth Sense, and that's enough
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I love
The Sixth Sense. I think I can easily slot it in behind
Vertigo,
Winter Light,
The Empire Strikes Back, and
La Dolce Vita as my fifth favorite film. There will be other contenders
I'll cover, but it's doubtful that any amount of them will be able to knock
The Sixth Sense down by more than a couple of spots. This movie is
staying in my all time top ten, unless the quality of current cinema suddenly
takes an unimaginable and highly unlikely uptick.
The Sixth Sense has
everything. It moves me emotionally throughout, every time that I watch
it...and I've watched it a lot. However, I've heard a small handful of people
say that the film suffers on rewatch, and on this, I cannot disagree more.
The Sixth Sense only grows in scope and impact with increased viewings.
It not only grows thematically richer, but stimulates the imagination the more
that it's watched. I'll very briefly use what I've already written to
illustrate why:
Of course, trying to find a mistake in the staging of the film is a thrill
for the first few repeat viewings, until it becomes clear there aren't any.
Chairs don't move when Malcolm sits in them. No one acknowledges his
presence but Cole. It is after this stage of rewatching has passed that the
film's value really begins to expand.
Watching the opening scene again, it's clear the temperature in the Crowe
household has suddenly dropped drastically. After several watches it becomes
apparent that this heralds the arrival of Vincent, who has the same gift
Cole does...meaning his energy also attracts ghosts...and the ghosts have
arrived with him. So logically, as Malcolm is murdered, the house is likely
full of ghosts, tormenting Vincent to his final moment.
When Malcolm eventually comes to, he has notes for Cole likely taken right
before Malcolm died, and Cole was only a prospective patient. When Cole
walks out of his house, and Malcolm is sitting outside, Cole starts running
toward the church...because he is running away from Malcolm, a ghost.
Malcolm, who only sees what he wants to see and doesn't know that he is
dead, has a gunshot wound and blood all over his back. When Malcolm
approaches Cole, Cole tries to ignore him, until Cole realizes Malcolm is a
friendly ghost. Once the conversation proves fruitful, Cole tells Malcolm
that he'll see him again...as this is the first ghost Cole likely
wants to see again, other than the one of his grandmother.
When
Malcolm later tries to break the ice with Cole, Cole mentions an incident at
school where he drew a man who got hurt in the neck by another man with a
screwdriver. That means that this poor child actually saw a ghost with a
screwdriver jammed into his neck, and the resulting carnage. Later, during
the "Stuttering Stanley" incident, it becomes clear that at some point,
someone who went to school with Stanley and hated him died, then,while
little Cole was trying to learn, they're ghost barged into the classroom and
started screaming "Stuttering Stanley." Cole is only imitating the ghost he
saw do this. Meanwhile, Lynn looks through old family photos and notices a
strange specter near Cole in each photo. This means that likely since he was
a toddler, Cole has been visited by these ghosts...and considering we know
that the ghosts assault him now, they were likely assaulting him then...when he was a toddler. It's tough to imagine how this manifested when he
was a very small child, but it's easy to imagine the resulting behavior is
why Cole's deadbeat dad hit the road.
Obviously, when Cole tells
Malcolm his secret and gives the rules, he's describing Malcolm himself. The
editing in this scene becomes even more masterful upon rewatch. And since
the ghosts are now shown to the audience after this scene instead of just
implied, the actual trauma that's been visited upon Cole becomes explicit.
The cabinets in the house are frequently opened on their own. So when Cole
is visited by the terrifying slit wrist ghost, it becomes clear that when
he's in the kitchen with his mom, and she leaves, the ghost immediately
comes in and starts opening cabinets. By the end of the film, we find that
Cole now knows how to help the ghosts--meaning that even this terrifying
suicide ghost will find peace through Cole.
This specific ghost, through her words and her facial bruises, implies that
she herself was undergoing extreme, violent trauma at the hands of her
husband. It's easy to imagine that Cole eventually has a
Good Will Hunting style cry and hug it out "It's not your fault" conversation with her, so that she can finally find peace and move
on.
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I had to bring this scene up one last time |
He'll even have to help the poor ghost kid who accidentally shot himself
with his dad's gun. Also, the dog runs away from the aforementioned kid
ghost, meaning that at the least, the dog can feel the ghosts, but more
likely (and following folklore, as the film generally does throughout its
runtime) can see them along with Cole. Is Cole going to find a way to make
the dog comfortable with the ghosts? Will the dog start helping Cole sniff
out ghosts? It's fun to think about!
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Thank you, M. Night!!!
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Then, there's the mother who murdered her daughter. If this film has a
villain, it's her, the murderess dressed in red. One day, she'll die. Unless
she's an unrepentant sociopath (I assume, in the lore of this film,
unrepentant sociopaths just go straight to hell), Cole will likely have to
help her too. That means he'll likely have to have a moment with her where
she comes to the realization and must admit "I killed her. I killed my daughter," before she moves on to whatever's next. Cole will also eventually have
to help every ghost in the film. By the final car scene with his mom, he
likely has (other than the last couple that he's obviously still working
on). Also, now his mom is an ally for the future. She can give him moral
support to follow his destiny.
Finally, considering the major act that turns things around for Cole is
essentially him solving a young girl's murder, it's likely Cole will now
start to solve many crimes and will likely soon draw the attention of the
police. How awesome would a noirish, supernatural mystery film be with a
mid-20s Cole helping the police solve a well-written case? That would have
been so cool! I'd have paid a lot to see that!
Meanwhile, Malcolm's
story turns into a tragedy and a meditation on grief. I found his struggle
for redemption compelling during my first viewing of the film. On further
watches, Malcolm's story starts to become a fogged reflection of Anna's
grief. He's grieving that she won't talk to him...but she's grieving because
he's dead. She's not testing the waters of cheating on him. She's trying to
move on a year after his murder, but can't find the peace to do it. Now
Malcolm is not simply haunted, but haunting! When he realizes
at the end of the film that he's had trouble getting into the basement
because a table and a bunch of stacked books is blocking the door, those
objects are there because someone--Malcolm!--has been rooting around in the
basement and scaring Anna. Even more of Cole's dialogue to Malcom takes on
different meaning too. When Cole tells Malcom, "Don't go home, okay?" he's
not telling him not to go back to his townhouse with Anna, but instead NOT
TO GO BACK TO THE PURGATORIAL SPIRIT REALM HE'S UNKNOWABLY BEEN PHASING IN
AND OUT OF. This is even further highlighted when Malcolm apologizes to Anna
for showing up late to their anniversary. He says he's been having trouble
keeping track of time--and of course he has! As a ghost, he lives in this
purgatorial spirit realm now, and time doesn't work the same way for him
anymore. In fact, it's entirely possible that all of Malcolm's scenes in the
film are the ONLY moments he experiences as a ghost!
But the craziest thing is this: Malcolm failed Vincent. However, Malcolm
finds peace by helping Cole, rectifying the previous situation...for
everyone but Vincent! That's right, the ghost of Vincent is likely still
roaming around the Philadelphia night, shouting and talking to himself.
Vincent was a possible future for Cole...and now Cole will have to help
Vincent find peace. I'd have paid a lot to see that too!
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Kathleen...if you'd just kept your hands off of Star Wars...you
would have gone down as a legend...
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As you can see, the depth of the world Shyamalan has created here invites
much exploration. However, it's more than just this stimulation of my
imagination that I love about this film. It's more than the fact that it's
a great ghost story, my favorite type of story, especially considering
I've actually seen one! It's even more than the film's exploration of healing generational
pain and our connections to the past and history! It's the theme of
being born with a gift you don't understand, and learning to use that
gift that I find particularly resonant. Most people wonder what their
purpose in life is, and many more wonder why they've been created to be
however they are. Almost everyone has cried out "WHY AM I LIKE THIS?!" at some some point. I certainly have. I'm 42, and I still haven't
figured it out.
I guess I need a Malcolm!
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