Review By: Stephen Snart
StephenSnart@TheCinemaSource.com

The Invasion is the fourth feature film adaptation of Jack Finney’s seminal 1955 novel “The Body Snatchers.” Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig headline the latest version of the science fiction tale about an alien virus infecting Earth’s population. Rather than pod people or little green men running around with blasters, the alien force arrives in the form of microbes originating from a space shuttle explosion. Transmitted through fluids like many other contagious diseases, the difference is that it only spreads during the REM sleep stage; thus we get the film’s frantic opening scene in which a character chugs caffeine pills and swills soda in an effort to stay awake.

I confess to having seen none of the previous cinematic renditions (nor read the book for that matter) but gather they have been regarded as allegories in one way or another for matters of communism and dictatorship. I can’t speculate as to just how buried the social criticism is in the previous films but can attest that it’s laid on in sporadic globs in this latest version. The brunt of the critique occurs during a ritzy dinner party scene in which a conversation about the evolution of consciousness begins with a tertiary Russian character more or less spewing out the communist manifesto and culminates with Kidman’s character, a Washington DC psychologist, smugly stating that 500 years ago there was no such thing as a post-modern feminist but yet here she is.

Momentary dabbles in five-dollar words aside, The Invasion is presented squarely as a 1950s B-rate horror/sci-fi flick from its 95 minute running time to its campy depiction of the ‘invaded’ – all talking in staggered monotone with stiff posture and vapid eyes. The film isn’t intended to display the smirking self-awareness of Grindhouse or the straight-faced parody of Hot Fuzz, instead it’s a pastiche; a classical Hollywood throwback without commentary. And for the first 45 minutes, it’s actually quite fun with its kooky and old-fashioned presentation of rapidly accelerating terror. The invasion itself occurs remarkably swiftly without the opening tranquility seen in so many horror films and barely any character exposition (a good thing in this case). Sadly, the third act devolves just as rapidly into humdrum car chases, claustrophobic self-pity and maudlin proclamations. If it didn’t star an Oscar winner and James Bond, one might have difficulty distinguishing the enterprise from bargain bin direct-to-DVD schlock.

Kidman and Craig both decide to play their roles with grim sincerity which initially offsets the film’s camp but eventually augments the flatness of the denouement. Craig is serviceable but doesn’t display any of the comic timing he perfected in Casino Royale. Meanwhile, Kidman – more so than in her psychological thrillers Dead Calm and The Others – seems to be making a bid for scream queen status. She’s all wide eyes and shrieks and willing to strip down to her undies on at least three occasions (she also sports a tight white ...