Christoph (Brotherhood of the Wolf) Gans' Return to Silent Hill is a loose sequel (or more so, a companion piece) to his 2006 endeavor, based on the eminent, video-game series, where surreal, Fulci-styled aesthetics intersect with Phantasm/Hellraiser-like imagery and Carnival of Souls/Jacob's Ladder allusions. The new Silent Hill picture is, in truth, just as surreal and perhaps even more abstract than its moody predecessor, making it an experimental niche dropped within the prime, movie flow.
For Silent Hill 2, our protagonist is Jeremy (War Horse) Irvine's James Sunderland, an alcoholic, guilt-ridden, in-therapy artist, who decides to return to his old stomping ground, Silent Hill, where things have gone (pardon the pun) down hill and are ripe for messing with a susceptible mind.
In his unwitting attempt to find himself in this crumbled realm, as well as locate his lost love, Hannah Marie Anderson's Mary, the flashlight-armed Sunderland stumbles upon several ashy, if not frightful, sights, including the popular Pyramid Head, freaky nurses, various, nondescript, body-horror monsters, and Rosemary's Baby, cult-bound interludes. He segues from them (often to enter flashbacks), only to fall back into their grasp, in a dry, arthouse-movie manner.
Perhaps I shouldn't have liked the approach, but for whatever cause I did. It may be as simple as my thinking that Irvine resembles me (though some I've spoken to say I'm nutty to think so). Still, I didn't have any trouble seeing the weirdness through his eyes, even though the first flick's sexy-babe quotient is lots more appealing for a compounded journey.
At any rate, the sequel's premise promotes the idea that Sunderland's disposition is the real antagonist: that he's fighting his personal demons and in a scattered fashion, which includes Mary's manifestation, as well as her perplexing doppelgangers. But then we also know, from the franchise's established lore, that Silent Hill's wacky, funhouse imagery does hold sustenance, but where in the epic expanse does its Freddy Kreuger angle begin and/or end? The lines of cohesiveness melt away more often than not, creating an effectual, fever dream (think along the lines of Carl Theodor's Vampyre, retold by David Lynch), but for those who just might prefer linear storytelling, head-scratching confusion is inevitable. To rephrase, when all is said and done, some may ask did any of the events occur and what the hell did the culmination even mean?
Silent Hill 2, as with its predecessor, is more of a visual exercise in this respect: a winding, dread-laden, grief-allegory tug-a-long, if one will, to engage during those times when one wants to veg out, albeit in a melancholic, "sad song" sort of way. To be honest, Fantasia follows a similar, open-ended, seemingly purposeless path, and there are those who hold it in high regard. I'm not one of them, but hey, for those of that inclination, I say embrace whatever floats your boat. There's no reason to think that Silent Hill 2 can't charm (maybe); it's more a matter of whether you're one of those it can charm. There's only one way to find out, of course. Take a deep breath and view it.
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