Hitchcock comes down with a Kafkaesque head cold

Rating: 8/10 (12 June 2005)

If Alfred Hitchcock ever got into Franz Kafka stuff and made a creepy, monochramatic head-trip of a film, you just know he'd get some sick satisfaction of starving actor Christian Bale of 63 pounds for his role in "The Machinist", here directed by Brad Anderson (Session 9). While I can't say if Anderson treats his actors as poorly as the notorious Master of Suspense, I can say that he has crafted a well-made potboiler starring an actor so good he must suffer from some level of sadomasochism.
As Trevor Reznik (the writer, Scott Kosar, must be a Nine Inch Nails fan), Bale's body underwent a deterioration so great that it appears to have affected him psychologically. Reznik's small talk and little jokes he makes perfectly demonstrate the humanity he's clinging onto by the decayed strands - eventually transforming into pathetic desperation, and the audience is shocked with him at every revelation in the story's mind-tripping narrative. Reznik hasn't slept for a year, his coworkers at the machinist shop are seemingly plotting against him, and a strange man is stalking him. If I'm being vague, it's because I have to.
Some of this may also sound very Lynch, and it is - except Anderson gives it a streamlined narrative, yet still demands the viewer's patience so the story can methodically unfold with every new threat posed to Reznik's sanity. Some of the characters disappear out of existence. It's true that much of "The Machinist" can be attributed to other works; but, as the cliché goes, it's greater than the sum of its (body) parts. Like an M. Night Shyamalan flick, you know it's leading up to some great twist you've probably predicted already. But Anderson is smarter than that. Unlike "The Village", his film doesn't hinge on the 'twist'. If you should have any expectations before seeing "The Machinist - expect one of the best, otherworldly suspense thrillers in recent memory.