It’s been a quiet few years for writer/director Dan Gilroy. Since his directorial debut Nightcrawler, released in 2014 to critical acclaim (as well as an Oscar nomination for his screenplay), he’s only directed two films. The first, Roman J. Israel, Esq, came and went without much fuss, save the buzz around Denzel Washington’s performance. His second, Velvet Buzzsaw, is a Netflix Original horror film centred on the art world. It admittedly has its merits, but, as much as we might hope, it never quite recaptures the brilliance of Nightcrawler.

We focus on a group of art curators, critics and assistants in Miami Beach played by Jake Gyllenhaal, Rene Russo, Zawe Ashton, Toni Collette, John Malkovich, and Natalie Dyer. When a neighbour of Ashton’s character dies suddenly, she discovers hundreds of fantastic paintings about to go to waste. Upon displaying them in an exhibition, a series of mysterious deaths begin to sweep Miami Beach’s art circle – the cause of which may be more sinister than anyone imagined.

Velvet Buzzsaw’s weakest aspect is the fact that it tries to be both a horror flick and a social commentary – Jordan Peele proved two years ago with Get Out that the two can work perfectly well together, but Gilroy never quite manages to make it work. In a 105-minute movie, it is almost an hour before the horror part of it starts to get going. The hour leading up to this is admittedly perfectly entertaining, but we’re left itching for the scares to come. When they do, a good deal of them are effective, but Gilroy largely seems to have an over-reliance on jump scares that diminish any tension he’s created. The prolonged scenes are notably better – one towards the end that sees Gyllenhaal’s snobby critic Morf Vanderwult terrorised by an exhibit he’d criticised earlier is particularly great; and climactic scenes for both Russo and Ashton’s characters are deliciously unsettling. But all of these feel too short. Individually, the scenes work fantastically – the film’s highlight, in this regard, is a scene where a character finds himself stuck in a room, that has been magically constructed from an art exhibit in order to try and take his life – but when put together, there does not feel to be enough reason or malice behind them. Only one short scene is given to explaining the reasons behind the oddness, and what is offered is never returned to again, never capitalised on. It feels a little … half-baked.

Perhaps the horror feels a little lacking because Gilroy wishes to focus on a commentary about the art world. Not his wisest decision – the commentary goes no deeper than ‘people in the art world are bad and selfish’. It seems very generalised, and there’s no nuance to it, but, thanks to the cast, it is entertainingly explored. It’s perfectly engaging, but it feels odd that, rather than the commentary and horror working together, each seems to detract from the other. The two never quite mesh – it is as if Gilroy has taken two separate screenplays and merged them together. Each aspect works reasonably well individually, but merging them feels like neither gets the attention they need to thrive.

Thankfully, the cast are on great form to (at least) make everything entertaining enough to warrant your time. Gyllenhaal is on fine form as Morf, a critic who’s struggling to find inspiration before the new art collection comes along. His personal life is given a great deal of screen time, but, although he’s interesting enough, it never seems clear why Morf is the one most haunted of all. He is the one who figures out why the hauntings are happening and tries to do something about it, but it is never explained why it is him, rather than anyone else. Everyone else is just as guilty, but the only reason Morf seems to be at the centre is because he’s the main character.

There is sadly little to say about any of the other characters: all the performances are engaging and intriguing, but there is little substance to any of the characters themselves. Zawe Ashton and Rene Russo round out the main trio: Ashton puts in a fine turn as Josephina, an assistant who always wants more, while Russo plays rocker-turned-gallery owner Rhodora with a similar aura of ruthlessness that she brought to Nightcrawler. These three are supported by a variety of characters, but there is too much focus on these – time spent with inconsequential side characters means time lost with our main three, and that is only to the film’s detriment. Toni Collette is massively underused (a crime in itself), and John Malkovich’s character adds so little that he could be entirely cut, and the film would lose nothing. It seems especially odd, then, that we spend so much time with these characters, Malkovich especially, for them to end up contributing so little. As with Gyllenhaal, Ashton and Russo, the performances themselves are serviceable, but there is little in the way of actual character. A definite case of the actors being better than their material.

Despite his script perhaps not living up to his previous standard, Gilroy’s direction is enjoyable: he draws some fantastic parallels between art and reality, and when his dialogue works, it works. When he looks at the commentary around the art world, things are intriguing despite their simplicity, and when he focuses on the scary stuff, he’s good. The man clearly has talent – he just needs a better vessel for it.

 All in all, Velvet Buzzsaw is a reasonably entertaining flick made out of some great components. While they admittedly don’t gel together perfectly, there’s a fun enough time to be had, and it’s easy to appreciate Gilroy’s vision.

Verdict:

An odd case of a film that feels as though it’s having a bit of an identity crisis, Velvet Buzzsaw is a perfectly fine way to spend an evening. Great performances keep it afloat, and there are some fun set pieces along the way. If you’re after some monumental earth-shaking, however, you’d be best sticking with Nightcrawler.

Rating:

6/10