In this updated 1933 H.G. Wells concept, The Invisible Man flips the script as Elisabeth Moss takes the spotlight. The film focuses on the different forms of abuse in relationships including the unseen dangers of psychological abuse.
Writer-director Leigh Whannell leaves viewers on the edge of their seat in this gripping tale. Beginning with a structural power move, The Invisible Man inverts the title character of Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), a wealthy optics innovator— to a supporting role.
Instead, the focus alters to Cecilia Kass (Elisabeth Moss), a San Francisco architect who unknowingly becomes Adrian’s live-in captive. Cecilia undergoes not only physical abuse but also psychological abuse, something not often portrayed in films.
Notably, psychological abusers tend to use this tactical form of manipulation to gain power as well as control over someone; it’s also often a precursor to physical violence. Sadly, it’s not as well known since the symptoms are not visible.
As a result of Adrian’s textbook narcissism, he controls every aspect of Cecilia’s life unbeknownst to her loved ones.
Adrian’s a very wealthy and influential optics innovator who seemed to have it all. A beautiful gated oceanfront modern home outside the city limits of San Francisco, a sleek and organized designer closet, fancy tech equipment, and a lovely and smart girlfriend of two years.
Except when you remove the rose-colored lenses, you begin to see what lies beneath the exterior of this power player. In actuality, the beautifully gated modern home is a prison. His hyper-organized closet shows his desire for control (Cecilia didn’t have a closet in their shared home). His fancy tech equipment is weaponized, bristling with surveillance (power move). Lastly, his lovely and smart girlfriend, Cecilia’s merely a trophy to him as she’s detached from the outside world thanks to him.
Adrian’s inflated sense of self-importance is an insecure need to feel superior to others, including family (his brother said he hated him) hence causing little or no regard for other people’s feelings. However, this mental disorder hides fragile self-esteem and vulnerability to the slightest criticism. Also, the sentiment of rejection, thus, when Cecilia made the conscious and challenging decision to leave him.
“Adrian will haunt you if you let him,” isolation comes hand in hand with psychological abuse. So does PTSD after surviving and breaking free from the shell of one’s former self in abusive relationships. You begin to question and become skeptical of those trying to help. This is the bread and butter of a co-dependent narcissist.
Most horror movies have a visible killer or monster, the real horror in The Invisible Man is when the monster lives amongst us.
Similarly to that of real life monster and newly convicted Harvey Weinstein (two criminal charges, including rape).
Despite being plagued by rumors of sexual harassment for more than twenty-five years, Weinstein remained in control by paying off his victim’s silence or other patterns of abusing his power.
Equally, abusers like Adrian and Harvey are master manipulators and enforce their power.
While Cecilia’s able to break free from Adrian’s controlling abuse with the aid of her sister. She finds refuge in the home of their friend, police officer James (Aldis Hodge), and his teenage daughter Sydney (Storm Reid). Although Cecilia’s now afflicted with anxiety and stress that Adrian will find her causing her to become a recluse.
It’s only after getting word of Adrian’s suicide that Cecilia’s finally able to let her guard down.
Except this can be another power play that abusers tend to utilize to their advantage.
Subsequently, Cecilia begins to feel an ominous presence of being watched; she convinces herself that Adrian’s not only alive but invisible. Causing her loved ones to question her sanity and emotional stability as she descends into alienation and madness, also known as gaslighting.
Cecilia’s mental health deteriorates which is evident in the small details I noticed, such as her lack of sleep (dark circles) as well as greasy hair (stress/depression).
Whannell’s ability to employ a tremendous visual horror effect, an unknown villain- even to the film characters is not only useful but especially spine-chilling.
During the showing of the film I attended, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. There were lots of gasps and even a whisper of “what the fuck.”
Indeed, that’s what makes this film a true horror story. How psychological abusers are almost faceless and virtually invisible.
