Originally published in Verbicide issue #21

Lions Gate Films
102 min., dir. by William Friedkin, with Ashley Judd, Michael Shannon and Harry Connick, Jr.

The trailer for the psychologically driven Bug promised to be “one of the most disturbing horror films imaginable.” Although I wanted to believe that this statement was only a wannabe-Ebert critic’s desperate attempt for a quote to appear in a preview, I still couldn’t help but be intrigued by such a claim. And when I heard that William Friedkin, director of The Exorcist (indeed one of the most disturbing horror flicks ever made) was in control, I left my initial skepticism behind when I departed for the theater. Sadly, it was waiting for me when I returned home with a nice big “I told you so,” as Bug was incredibly over-hyped and ultimately disappointing.

Adapted from an off-Broadway play by Tracy Letts, Bug stays loyal to its one-setting atmosphere of a seedy motel room under the tenancy of Agnes White (Ashley Judd.) Agnes is emotionally fragile thanks to both the disappearance of her son and the relentless abuse of her ex, Jerry Goss (Harry Connick, Jr.). The camera escapes her low class residence only once during a scene in a nearby bar where Agnes is introduced to Peter Evans (Michael Shannon.) Although awkward at first, the two begin a physical relationship after Peter not only wins Agnes’s heart, but starts to affect her less-than-stable mind as he convinces her that tiny bugs are infesting her room.

It becomes quite obvious as you watch this slow moving thriller that the so-called “disturbing” element comes from the way in which Peter’s paranoia eventually consumes Agnes. Having never seen this story in its original play form, I can only assume that the “paranoia is infectious” theme worked better on stage. Whereas the deconstruction of Agnes’s mind should have been as harrowing to watch as the trailer had promised, I couldn’t help but find myself laughing at Judd’s character the way I would a crazy bum pestering yuppies on a New York City street. Due to insufficient back-story and build-up, it was impossible to place myself in Agnes’s shoes, as her fall from sanity seems rushed and forced. I understand that she is immensely distraught after the loss of her child, but the writing did not come close to convincing me that she would fall prey to Peter’s loony ramblings so easily. And speaking of the script, hearing Judd yell, “I am the super mother bug!” did not help stifle my laughter in the least.

I do not credit the acting nor the directing for the film’s downfalls. Both Michael Shannon’s and Harry Connick Jr.’s performances are undeniably impressive, each bringing their undesirable qualities to the screen without mercy. Connick is believably dangerous as Goss, the violent ex, and I don’t think I could help but to wonder if Shannon really has a loose screw if I met him in person. Secondly, Friedkin’s direction was entirely appropriate for this type of story. Close-ups intensified the ongoing claustrophobia of the motel room while harsh light magnified the freakish nuances of the characters crazy expressions. These qualities combined, along with questions that go unanswered after the end credits start to roll, effectively add to the blurring of what’s real and fake. But even a director and actors at the top of their game can only do so much within a flawed story.

Bug is a movie that really should’ve worked and therefore I still find myself wanting to like it. Regardless of this desire, viewing someone’s mind snap unconvincingly gets the same reaction out of me as watching an action movie filled with ridiculously impossible car jumps. Perhaps this film works better for those more familiar with mental illness (or at least severe drug use). But after the DVD is released this month, you’ll be able to make up your own mind if, like the insects of Agnes’ motel room, Bug’s merit is real or not.