Split is the movie that made me trust M. Night Shyamalan again. After his string of misses, I expected another letdown. Instead I got one of the tensest thrillers in years. It grabs you early and never lets go.
The setup is simple. Kevin kidnaps three teenage girls and locks them in a basement. He has 23 personalities living inside him, and the word on the street is that a 24th is on the way.
James McAvoy plays all of them, and he’s incredible. One minute he’s Dennis, rigid and obsessed with cleanliness. The next he’s Hedwig, a lisping nine-year-old who thinks Kanye is the coolest guy alive. You can tell who’s in charge from the set of his shoulders alone. I forgot I was watching one actor.
Patricia unsettled me most. She’s prim, polite, almost motherly, and she talks to the girls like she’s hosting a tea party. You catch yourself warming to her. Then you remember she’s helping keep them caged. That’s the trap.
Anya Taylor-Joy matches him as Casey, the quiet girl who’s smarter than anyone gives her credit for. She doesn’t scream and flail. She watches, listens, and figures things out.
Shyamalan keeps it tight: small rooms, dim light, and long shots that let the dread pile up. Some may find the middle slow. I was hooked the whole way.
And the ending? Don’t let anyone spoil it.
If you loved The Sixth Sense, this is the Shyamalan you’ve been waiting for. Go in blind and brace yourself.
