An upscale suburban mom brings a new nanny, Polly Murphy, into her home, only to discover she is not the person she claims to be.
Chuck says:
There’s a distinct lack of urgency to the thriller “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” a remake of the 1992 surprise hit. Having never seen that version, I cannot attest whether that film also adopted a “ho-hum” attitude towards the shenanigans it contained. Under Michelle Garza Cervera’s direction, this update meanders from one “dramatic” moment to the next, none of them generating anything resembling suspense. What’s most curious is the two leads deliver solid, at times impassioned performances, yet they too fail to provide a spark for what turns out to be a timely yet tepidly told tale.
Overwhelmed juggling her career and motherhood, Claire Morales (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) convinces her husband Miguel (Raul Castillo) they are in need of a nanny. Wisely adhering to the maxim, “Happy wife, happy life,” he readily agrees. Enter Polly Murphy (Maika Monroe), an intense young woman who plays on Claire’s sympathy. About to be thrown out of her apartment, after looking after the Morales’ two daughters (Mileiah Vega and Lola Contreras) for a couple of weeks, she wheedles her way into their home, accepting an offer to move into their guest house.
Before you know it, Polly is giving the kids food with sugar (Oh no!), turning the girls against their mother and sabotaging meals to make them all sick. However, this is just the tip of the iceberg of nefarious deeds she has in store. Soon enough, she has Miguel questioning his wife’s mental state. Seems Claire had a breakdown previously and she’s exhibiting tell-tale signs of relapsing. Surely, the nanny couldn’t be to blame…
If there’s one thing that’s surprising about Micah Bloomberg’s script, it’s that it doesn’t go down the expected narrative path of having Polly seduce Miguel. Little else comes as a surprise as the nanny’s scheme unfolds and Claire breaks down before uncovering the past event that connects them.
Not only is the script a rote exercise but it’s populated with supporting characters that, by and large, are ciphers. Miguel is rendered so vaguely, he could have been played by a fence post. The role is so underwritten I doubt Brando could have brought any life to it. Claire’s best friends, Stewart and Bethany (Martin Starr and Riki Lindhome) don’t fare much better, though it’s implied there’s some history between him and our heroine, though details are minimal.
This proves regrettable as the revelation as to what is driving Polly and has hindered Claire is a corker and speaks to a vital societal concern. Winstead and Monroe are quite good during this revelatory moment, negating the rather sordid nature of the plot twist with their sincerity. Unfortunately, we’re past caring by that point, having been lulled into indifference by the lackluster execution of the threadbare script.
Had the rest of the script been as well-thought out and genuine as the third act, “Cradle” may have transcended its potboiler roots. More importantly, it may have been a livelier affair. Cervera must shoulder a good deal of the blame. Far too often, she opts for pensive glances shared between Claire and Polly to convey meaning and intent, many scenes running too long as a result. Ultimately, I don’t think she understood the assignment. This was meant to be “Fatal Attraction”-like melodrama, not a European art film.
2 Stars
