In this year’s The Invisible Man, lead star Elisabeth Moss plays the role of a traumatized survivor that powers through the constant psychological mind games of her abusive ex. Its story is an obvious departure from the original sci-fi novel by H.G. Wells, but one that’s an acceptable contemporary update. It was not long ago when Johnny Depp was originally attached to this film to be part of Universal Pictures’ doomed Dark Universe, a shared cinematic universe comprising of its library of classic horror properties. After the critical and financial failure of the Tom Cruise-led corporate blockbuster The Mummy in 2017, Universal decided to shift their plans to individualized storytelling instead, and gave the film to renowned horror studio Blumhouse Productions.

It’s safe to say that writer and director Leigh Whannell’s (best known for his screenplays in Saw and Insidious) modern take on this classic story is more interesting than what Universal’s top executives were originally planning for a blockbuster franchise. The Invisible Man ingeniously turns the concept of invisibility into a weapon used by a wealthy sociopath to physically and emotionally torture an ex-girlfriend as she tries to start a new life after leaving him – a situation that’s all too common today. This film is all about a woman and her struggles, instead of the traditionally male-centric stories of its previous adaptations.

The film begins with Cecilia (Elisabeth Moss) attempting a daring escape from the high-tech home of her tech-magnate boyfriend Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) in the middle of the night. As she’s trying to live out a normal but still traumatized life weeks later with her platonic friend James (Aldis Hodge) and his teenage daughter Sydney (Storm Reid), she receives the news from her sister that Adrian, a pioneer in the field of optics, has committed suicide and, as part of his will delivered his brother Tom (Michael Dorman), left Cecilia financial compensation. Her momentary relief soon comes to a halt as some strange events lead her to believe that Adrian has somehow faked his own death.

The gaslighting antics of his narcissistic ex-boyfriend are only as believable as Moss’s terrific performance. Adrian’s past abuses are never really shown outright, only relying on her unsettling expressions and reserved body language. She’s had plenty of opportunity to master the portrayal of onscreen trauma and mental breakdowns and it’s apparent. From subtle facial tics to wide grimaces, her disturbed reactions appear genuine, communicating deeper distress and inner turmoil that’s more effective than any boring exposition could. Her creeping fear is heightened by Whannell’s directorial technique behind the camera. While jumpscares are present and expected throughout the film, what works more are the suspenseful panoramic shots of seemingly empty rooms and hallways, tightening its view slowly to suggest that there’s more to it than what we see.

While the intimate setting and ambiguity of the first half may lead us to believe that Cecilia’s spiral down to madness could just be a result of severe psychological trauma, it doesn’t take too long before the film tackles on a more literal approach to her suspicions, justifying that someone really is there by starting a fire in the kitchen and pulling the blanket off her while she sleeps – simple pranks that evolve onto more elaborate acts. Whannell’s set pieces are engaging enough and well-crafted to hold the viewer’s attention, but in there lies the problem as well. Unfortunately, The Invisible Man kind of meanders in a silly direction as it progresses and drags towards the end (this film is just over two hours long), but Elisabeth Moss rightfully holds everything together with her invested performance as Cecilia, a character that’s too relatable in these technologically-driven modern times.

Rating: ★★★½