[Sundance 2022 Review] Watcher is a Technical Marvel Hampered by a Weak Script

Chloe Okuno wormed her way into the horror community’s collective hearts late last year with her deliriously wild and goopy entry (“Storm Drain”) in V/H/S/94. “Hail Raatma!” became a kind of rallying cry on Twitter and her entry managed to creep to the top of everyone’s favorite segment. Since then, I’ve been excited and curious to see what a full Okuno feature would look like and Watcher manages to surprise and sidestep expectations that the gooey creature feature “Storm Drain” might have suggested. It’s an effort in restraint that creates a more classical slow burn that’s high on technical elements but is let down by a rather pedestrian script. 

From the very opening, Okuno thrusts us into the shoes of Julia (It Follows’ Maika Monroe) as she is brought to Bucharest because of her husband Francis (Karl Glusman)’s big promotion. Watcher opens with Julia and Francis in a taxi, her husband and the taxi driver casually talking in Romanian while she sits alone and isolated by the language barrier. Smartly, Okuno makes the decision to not include subtitles, creating a the same gulf for the audience that exists between Julia and her new life. This sequence also is the first indication that there might be cracks in their relationship, as the taxi driver and Francis continue to converse in their native language, while Julia tries to pick up individual words. In the early parts of the film, Julia listens to language lessons while doing chores and exploring Bucharest, showing she’s actively trying to embrace the culture.

When used effectively, language can be an isolating tool in film and it works incredibly well here. An early scene has Julia and Francis hosting one of Francis’s work friends and his wife. The three of them joke around and talk in Romanian while Julia (and the audience) are left out. Julia keeps having to interrupt their conversation to get them to talk in English and it’s frustrating. “Do I need to leave so that the grownups can talk?” she asks at one point when the trio continue to chat in Romanian. 

This tension continues as she walks around Bucharest and feels eyes on her. In the apartments across from theirs, a shadow continues to sit in the window at night, seemingly staring right at her. And while she explores Bucharest, she begins to suspect that the man in the window is following her. Not helping matters, while the two of them explore at night, they come across police vehicles just outside their apartment. The news the next day talks about a serial killer nicknamed The Spider, who has been murdering women across Bucharest and establishes a connection between the police presence as the killer. As she begins to dig into the stories behind The Spider, she comes across articles and a video of one of the only survivors who talks about the attack. “I think he was watching me before. I just had a sense that someone was always behind me, even when I was alone.”

Cinematographer Benjamin Kirk Nielsen (who worked with Chloe on her short film “Slut”) leans into this feeling with the way he captures Julia within the camera frame. The first night they’re in the apartment, Julia and Francis get frisky on the couch, stripping their clothing and making out while the camera is poised just outside their apartment. As the two of them get more intimate, the camera begins to slowly panning away, as if their sexual congress were on display for all of Romania. 

From there, the camera work and staging by Okuno supplement that feeling of voyeurism, as if something could happen at any minute, through some deliciously staged sequences. The most effective moment is when Julia decides to go see a movie and a man sits directly behind her, almost invisible to the camera. She leaves and goes to the grocery store, but sees the man standing around corners. What follows is a fantastically shot sequence of Julia moving through the store while the camera frames her and her possible stalker crossing aisles. Complementing the camerawork, the set design and the cityscapes of Bucharest add another dimension to Julia’s unease. The brutalist architecture of the concrete boxes of apartments give way to a rich internal life, filled with ornate designs and gorgeous, modern decor. While her home feels lush and inviting, the moment she steps outside, the world seems poised to grab her, to cut her on its sharp angles. 

The unfortunate part of Watcher is the script, co-written by Okuno and Zack Ford and it ruins what felt like an impeccable exercise in 70s paranoia. The lush design and stunning sequences are let down with tropes. Watcher is a mix of Rear Window, the “stranger in a strange land” story and the popular gaslit woman narrative. With its trio of influences comes a litany of standard plot points to the degree that I knew where the narrative was going within the first 20 minutes of the film. Watcher introduces a woman, the sole person Julia can confide in? She’s going to disappear. The shadow across the street? It’s going to cause paranoia. The language barrier? It’s going to cause tension. The husband? He’s going to ignore her pleas. 

Julia’s descent into paranoia comes on fast and strong and Watcher doesn’t really explore what Francis and her relationship was prior to relocating to Romania. It’s a problem because we don’t really know their mental state so that when Julia goes from 0 to “The Man Across the Street is a Serial Killer” in record time, we have nothing to compare it to. Francis equally goes from being the attentive husband to aloof and immediately finds her paranoia childish. Her turn towards the paranoid comes on instantly and Francis’s attempts to hide information from her becomes immediately patronizing to the point that they don’t feel like real people who’ve loved each other for some time. We know so little about both Francis and Julia that we can’t tell if Francis is just an antagonist asshole or if there’s something deeper wedged between the two of them.

A few wrinkles add some intriguing moments to the story, such as the man who lives across the street (played to perfection by Burn Gorman) complaining to the police that he’s the one being stalked. Or Irina (Madalina Anea), the one friend mentioned above, who adds a warmth to the somewhat chilly film. And of course Maika’s performance is really enthralling; she has such charisma on screen and sells her dire situation incredibly well. But these moments aside, the script feels a little paint-by-numbers.

The events leading up to the climax had me gasping and again showcase Okuno’s fantastic ability to sculpt a set piece. Even though some of these last act reveals were expected, they’re staged in gasp-inducing ways that I can almost overlook that I knew it was coming from the first act. Watcher has some great things going for it and I honestly cannot wait to see what Chloe Okuno does next, but its boring script doesn’t live up to the technical excellence the rest of the film oozes and really hurt my enjoyment of the film.