The Man In The White Van

Warren Skeels’ The Man In The White Van tells the story of a series of grisly murders taking place in Florida in the 1970s. This plot actually serves more as the backdrop to an effective portrayal of a family’s domestic life, and the kids’ school life. We have two parents (Sean Astin and Ali Larter) and three children (Madison Wolfe, Brec Bassinger and Gavin Warren). Between these quaint family dialogues, we see glimpses of ruthless murders as the impending titular horror gets ever closer to our main characters and their home.

Many an audience member are sure to compare this movie to Fincher’s singular masterpiece Zodiac (2007). This is not only due to screenplay (by Skeels and Sharon Y. Cobb) and its similarities in subject-matter, place and time; but also because of the deliberate steps this movie takes to replicate Zodiac’s aesthetic – even down to the font of the opening credits. Yet what impressed this critic was how the filmmakers took the Fincher aesthetic – which has so often been overused and technically misunderstood as simply having a ‘desaturated colour palette’ – and applied its deeper nuances to the tale being told.

For instance, one Fincher attribute which works well is the use of subtle camera adjustments so as to mimic a character’s physicality. And, thankfully, this film has a gorgeous, varied palette, consisting of pastel colours and vibrant sunsets. This is a sturdy looking movie with incredible production values. Outside of impeccable technical consistencies – such as the precision of the focus-pulling or wonderful balance of the lighting – some of the most impressive and immersive moments of cinematography involve scenes in cars, shots attached to the outside of cars, or even the camera dollying around a car to reveal more visual information whilst in transit. There must be a lot of greenscreen at play, but the fact that it goes unnoticed is honestly astonishing.

Something that won’t go down so well with viewers is the sound. Now, I’m not referring to the sound recording (which is perfect) or even the foley work (which is also fantastic); I’m referring specifically to the criminal overuse of sinister musical cues. There are so many threatening sequences in this movie which could benefit massively from the pure terror of absolute silence – allowing the horror to unfold before us without manipulation. There’s a certain sense of spoon-feeding present in the constant violin screeching at any sight of the white van, which, after the opening scene, we get. But its worst sin is having these screeches take place during moments of false-threat – like the little brother making our protagonist jump.

For a film without an outrageous, blockbuster budget, the proper realisation of the period-setting should be considered a genuine achievement on a level of set and costume design. The family home feels authentic, the vintage cars are lovely to look at, and much of the budget has even gone to playing some classic tracks. All of this is illustrative of an attention to detail, as well as an intelligent use of budget, to enable some truly convincing world-building.

The Man In The White Van will be available on DVD & Digital from 29th September