In short, we are watching an old-fashioned exploitation flick-part of a depleted and degrading genre that not even M. Night Shyamalan, the writer and director of "Split," can redeem.
To all of the shocking developments of the last 12 months, we may now add yet one more: M. Night Shyamalan has made a good movie.
A rare, straight-up horror film from Shyamalan, Split is a thrilling reminder of what a technical master he can be.
Shyamalan demonstrates a mastery over the form of the mean and lean psycho-thriller, aided in no small party by the performances of McAvoy, Taylor-Joy and Buckley, and smooth-yet-unsettling camera work by cinematographer Michael Gioulakis.
Shyamalan juggles all these borrowed balls with grace and skill; it's only when he adds in some of his own that he falters.
Shyamalan is a one-trick pony who needs to find a new rodeo.
Shyamalan's popcorn picture is head-scramblingly strange - a chiller where both the bad guy and his victims are, well, victims.
Shyamalan has made the straightest thriller of his career, nearly free of the misguided detours and bonkers twists that made him famous. You wish it were messier.
It's a mystery that falls apart at the first touch.