Hey all! I really hope you enjoyed the Summer of 1994 series as much as I did. It was fun revisiting that period in cinema and looking back at some of the films I enjoyed as a teen (and some that were new to me). But August of 1994 was pretty meager and I have to admit that I’ve been too aware that the anniversary of one of the best years of movies — and easily the best since I’ve been alive — has been passing me by. So, we’re going to push the time up a bit and spend these last few months looking back at 1999 in film. I’ve already tackled a few 1999 films — I hit Election earlier this year and tackled The Matrix and its sequels a few years back. I’ll be largely sticking to the fall movie season of 1999, but there were a few films that were released earlier in the year that I want to make sure to hit. I also wrote about The Blair Witch Project last week. Now, start with talking about what is arguably M. Night Shyamalan’s best film.
Twenty-five years after its release, The Sixth Sense is remembered largely for its twist.
That makes sense; it’s a great one. I remember sitting in a theater in August 1999, watching the film’s final moments play out. The air in the theater seemed to thin as the entire audience gasped at once; I remember feeling like the room was spinning. The twist was so unexpected and so skillfully delivered that it’s easy to see why the film became a pop culture phenomenon (it was the second-highest-grossing film of 1999, bringing in nearly $300 million).
But I wonder if that twist was both the best and worst thing to happen to The Sixth Sense. Because while it got audiences talking and returning to the theater, it also seemed to have to negative effects. One: M. Night Shyamalan could not make a movie again without everyone wondering what the twist would be. And two: Focusing on the twist obscures the fact that The Sixth Sense is a great film even before Bruce Willis learns he’s a ghost.
“I See Dead People”
Unless you’ve lived in a cave for two decades, you know The Sixth Sense’s big reveal: Willis’ Dr. Malcolm Crowe discovers that he’s actually dead, killed when a troubled former patient (Donnie Wahlberg) broke into his house and shot the child psychiatrist. The boy he thinks he’s been helping, Cole (Haley Joel Osment) is actually the one who helps him, suggesting that Malcolm talk to his wife while she sleeps so they can have the closure that allows him to move on.
In the years since the film’s release, we’ve seen multiple variations on the “they were dead/bad/imaginary all along,” so it’s easy to forget how unexpected this was. Horror movies released in the ‘90s didn’t typically depend on twists, and the film’s pre-release marketing didn’t mention one (these days, we’d be inundated with “don’t spoil the ending!” warnings). This was also pre-Reddit, when fans didn’t obsess over every detail and spin their own theories. We were just as surprised as Malcolm, even when the clues are obvious in hindsight: his wife’s burgeoning romance right under his nose, the doors he can’t open, the fact that he wears the same clothes every time we see him (subtly changed up a bit, but they’re all present at his death).
I’ve heard people complain that watching it again, the twist is obvious; of course it is. That’s not a fault of Shyamalan’s but rather proof of how well-seeded that reveal is. The clues are all there, proof that Shyamalan’s surprise isn’t a narrative cheat. Even complaints about plot holes (how does Crowe find out about Cole? What does he think he does all day?) are not really plot holes; think about it just a bit, and your realize the film’s exposition creates a world where this all makes sense.
In fact, the biggest surprise when revisiting The Sixth Sense is not how well the twist holds up but how little I looked out for it while watching the film. Shyamalan makes Cole such an intriguing and endearing character that our attention immediately goes from Crowe to the young child as soon as we meet him. For the first half, the film doesn’t reveal what’s plaguing Cole; we know he’s trouble, terrified and a little weird, and that there are strange things happening around him, but, we never see any ghosts or supernatural manifestations until later. It’s possible that people who went into the film knowing there was a twist initially thought “I see dead people” was it.
Shyamalan grounds the story in the relationship between Malcolm and Cole; this new patient reminds him of his earlier failure. We read the opening moments not as a death scene but as the trauma Malcolm must overcome through helping Cole. The film then deftly switches our sympathies; it’s easy to understand why viewers might not initially ask questions about Malcolm’s mortality; they’re too invested in what’s happening to this boy.
That’s the magic trick. Shyamalan is skilled not so much at creating the twist — which is, indeed, hidden in plain sight — as he is at diverting our attention and shifting our emotional investment. He does that not through clever plot machinations, special effects or scares (although those are plenty), but through well-drawn characters and strong acting.
“They look like normal people”
Audiences may have walked into The Sixth Sense expected to see the latest Bruce Willis film, but they walked out talking about Haley Joel Osment.
The actor, only 11 at the time of the film’s release, had been around, most notably in a number of sitcoms and as the titular character’s son in Forrest Gump. But with his performance as Cole, Osment showed a skill that eclipsed his adult co-stars (and earned him an Academy Award nomination). This might have been the film that cemented Shyamalan as an auteur, but it’s Osment’s show all the way.
Much of that is due to his looks. With a round face and those giant eyes, Osment earns our sympathy from the moment he appears on the screen. Shyamalan makes him look smaller than his surroundings, most notably in the hospital scene where he appears to be drowning in blankets. Cole is sweet and deeply empathetic, and Osment gives him a sense of humor that is often dry, not the precocious kid talk we’re used to (Cole’s retort to Malcolm, “I didn’t know you were funny,” after the doctor tells a dumb joke, is really good).
Anyone can play scared, but Osment embodies fear. There’s a terror soaked deep in Cole’s bones, a trauma that grips his entire being, and Osment sells the hell out of it. The way his voice cracks when he says “all the time” to Malcolm, his terror at being locked in a closet by bullies. Beyond that, he also sells a beyond-his-age maturity and compassion, as Cole slowly realizes the road to recovery is not to avoid the ghosts but to help them. It’s nuanced and emotional, easily one of the best child performances I’ve seen, perhaps only bested by Osment’s work two years later in Steven Spielberg’s A.I.
The Sixth Sense and the following year’s Unbreakable herald the last great Bruce Willis performances (although I’d hear an argument for Moonrise Kingdom). Before the actor became seemingly asleep in his films — which we later learned was at least partly due to his medical ailments — Shyamalan understood what made him work. While Unbreakable hinges on his stoic side, The Sixth Sense capitalizes on his charisma. He plays Malcolm as a man haunted by his failure and scarred by his past, but he also has a levity and playfulness that helps us understand why he’s able to form such a bond with his young patients. Willis and Osment have strong chemistry, and the actor’s charm and intensity both help us know why Malcolm’s wife (Olivia Williams) would fall for him while not being surprised that there’s emotional distance.
Toni Collette earned an Oscar nomination for her work as Cole’s mother, and she’s easily the film’s lynchpin. In her few scenes, Collette suggests an entire backstory for her character, a single mother trying to do right by her son, but both frustrated and terrified about his behavior and her inability to help. In what could have been a thankless role, Collette fills her character with tenderness, fear, concern and rage. Most importantly, her acceptance of Cole’s gift at the end, coupled with her tender treatment of him throughout the film, provide assurance that Cole will be okay without Malcolm; the film’s emotional climax in the car is just as powerful and tied into the film’s themes as the twist that follows immediately after.
“I’m ready to communicate with you now”
Make no mistake, The Sixth Sense is not a stoic chamber piece. It’s often a very scary movie. Its first half is eerie and mysterious, but once we know Cole’s secret, Shyamalan reveals just how terrifying Cole’s reality is. The ghosts aren’t silent, ethereal beings but rather bloody, wounded bodies with weight. They can see Cole, talk to him and even hurt him. Shyamalan doles the gruesome images out carefully to maximize their impact; when we see them — a gunshot wound, slit wrists, vomit — they are burned into our memory.
The Sixth Sense is a horror movie, but it’s not a haunted house movie. Its scares are visceral and harsh. We understand why Cole is terrified and why he wants to be free. But what makes the film so resonant and necessary, especially now, is how it is not about avoiding trauma but confronting it, understanding it and creating something positive from it.
“Please make them go away,” Cole pleads to Malcolm. But that’s not what happens.
The happy ending is not Cole free of ghosts; it’s Cole talking to one before his school play. It’s Cole helping his mother and dead grandmother reconcile. It’s Cole telling Malcolm to talk to his wife in her sleep so he can move on, assured of her love and offering words of comfort before he disappears.
The Sixth Sense isn’t about a man who learns he’s dead, and it isn’t about a kid who sees dead people. It’s a film about seeing past our fears to do good for others. Cole learns to see the beings that terrified him as people in need of empathy, compassion and assistance. It’s about learning how we don’t always need someone to solve our problems; we need people who listen and understand. Every relationship in this movie hinges on the themes of compassion and empathy; either people have their communication blocked because of fear or death, or because they don’t really understand what’s happening in the other’s life.
“The Sixth Sense” set an impossibly high bar for Shyamalan. Sometimes he’s come close to clearing it, as with “Unbreakable” “Split” and, I might argue, “Signs” and “The Village.” Sometimes, as with “Lady in the Water,” he’s been too wrapped up in his own brain for the emotion to come through. But this film, the one that first captivated audiences, is the director at his peak, and the feeling we get from it is why we’ve continued to see his films for more than two decades.