(Herald rating: * *)
It's been a while since we've seen Michael Keaton on the big screen. If it's because he has been fussy about scripts, then with White Noise one has to wonder if he's been waiting for the most boring thriller/horror to come along.
Keaton is wasted in
this role as architect Jonathan Rivers, a man trying to cope with the mysterious disappearance of his second wife, best-selling author Anna Rivers. While he waits to discover her fate, he's followed by a man who tells him Anna has contacted him from the other side through EVP (electronic voice phenomena).
EVP is like a broadcast from the dead, messages recorded through the static on your TV or radio, which can be heard, and faint pixilated images seen when the tapes are replayed.
Although Rivers is at first sceptical about EVP, he is quickly converted when Raymond plays him a message from Anna. He then becomes obsessed with EVP, and when Raymond dies under suspicious circumstances, he starts recording EVP himself.
This is where the film becomes a little fuzzy, much like the static he records.
The thing about EVP is you are contacted by more people than you'd like; some good, some not so good. While Rivers' obsession with EVP was originally driven by contact with his dead wife, he then begins helping others, and fighting three mysterious spirits who have an evil agenda.
Presuming White Noise's intention is to make us re-examine our ideas about life and death, you have to wonder why they didn't actually give us anything to think about. Most of this film is spent watching static on the telly screen; not what I would call an entertaining way to spend the evening.
Apart from a few scares, White Noise moves too slowly, concentrates on style over substance, and ultimately presents us with vacuous characters who are as confused as we are about what they are doing.
CAST: Deborah Kara Unger, Chandra West, Michael Keaton
DIRECTOR: Geoffrey Sax
RUNNING TIME: 97 Minutes
RATING: M - Contains Violence & Horror
SCREENING: Cinemas: Village, Hoyts and Berkeley Cinemas
