Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on June 3, 2008, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
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Since The Signal is divided into three distinct sections (or “transmissions”) helmed by different writer/directors, one might expect that its DVD audio commentary would give each filmmaker the position of prominence during their respective chapters. Instead, David Bruckner, Jacob Gentry and Dan Bush explain at its start that they’ll be taking turns leaving the room during their own segments, leaving the other two to discuss them. All three were on set throughout shooting, they point out, and this approach will help avoid the self-indulgent or -congratulatory tone that can afflict such tracks. Truth be told, there’s still plenty of gushing going on, as Gentry and Bush verbally applaud how Bruckner built suspense out of bits and pieces they helped him shoot, Bruckner and Bush praise Gentry’s comedic chops, etc.
The compliments are largely earned, though; while the parts don’t seamlessly exist within the whole, they all contain their share of strong moments. If there’s an unavoidable quibble with The Signal, it’s that the very best stuff comes first, as Bruckner introduces the scenario of a strange electronic broadcast infiltrating every TV, phone, radio, etc. in the city of Terminus and driving almost everyone who sees/hears it to madness and murder. After it interrupts a New Year’s Eve airing of what appears to be a typical modern torture-horror flick (more on that later), we’re introduced to Ben (Justin Welborn), who’s in the midst of enjoying a late-night tryst with his married girlfriend Mya (Anessa Ramsey). There’s a quiet, inviting, naturalistic tone to their scenes together; then Mya sets out to return home to her husband Lewis (A.J. Bowen), and mania breaks loose.
The sequences at Mya’s apartment building, where one resident after another turns on their neighbors with whatever weapon they can get their hands on, is a blistering portrait of urban hell, with at least one sudden act of violence guaranteed to make you jump and/or cringe. In the midst of Mya’s flight from the mayhem, Gentry takes over for the movie’s midsection and the tone turns to jet-black comedy, as Lewis infiltrates a New Year’s party, with over-the-top and unpleasant results. Gentry delivers a number of sick laughs—as well as some of the movie’s most creative camerawork—but the sudden switch in tone jars (a credit, to be sure, to the played-straight power of Bruckner’s opener). Bush takes over for the final act, adopting a more existential tone as he reveals the ultimate fates of the trio of key players and arrives at an effectively chilly, low-key windup.
While The Signal’s mood leapfrogs, the visuals remain consistent (the trio served as each other’s cinematographers), and the disc’s 1.78:1 transfer is very fine, evocatively replicating the cool blue of Ben and Mya’s first scene, the grotty hues of the subsequent parking garage setpiece and all that follows, backed by unnerving Dolby Digital 5.1 sound. Given the wide range of locations, it’s startling to learn via the commentary that the whole thing was shot in only 13 days, and it becomes clear from the trio’s discussion just how carefully thought out The Signal was. Even so, each pair admits that there were moments of the other’s portion that they weren’t sure were going to work, only to be pleasantly surprised by the final result, and the creative and technical methods by which they pulled it all together are explored quite comprehensively.
The staging of a few key moments is documented in the 15-minute Inside Terminus making-of, an entertaining peek at how to stage a car crash without actually crashing the car, or a head-crushing gag via simple, yucky foodstuffs and a bit of digital compositing. Ramsey and Bruckner explore the former’s emotionally challenging role here, while co-stars Bowen, Welborn and Cheri Christian get to share their thoughts in the shorter The Signal Breakdown. A deleted-scenes section showcases only one sequence that was excised in its entirety—an encounter between the protagonists and a violent child—albeit in two different versions, neither of which really works. There’s also an extended variation of a confrontation between a bat-wielding Lewis and some friends that generates good tension, and could have easily been preserved in its entirety.
Each filmmaker is also represented by one of three Transmissions, i.e. webisodes that dramatize the Signal’s effects elsewhere in Terminus. Once again, Bruckner’s contribution, set in a TV station, is the best, though Bush’s (a tense exchange in a Wal•Mart-type store) and Gentry’s (a lost family’s experience on a highway) have their moments. Gentry is further represented by the 10-minute The Hap Hapgood Story, the aforementioned extreme-horror/’70s homage excerpted at the beginning of The Signal—which he made in 2003, before such things became fashionable, as part of a 48 Hour Film Festival. It’s a fairly effective little piece, suggesting that Gentry could have done well jumping on that bandwagon, had he not opted to take part in this more original project. Last but not least, the Signal itself is here to be played on your home set, with no way to fast-forward or chapter-skip to the end. Do you dare watch it all the way through and see what happens?
