Sam Raimi, fresh off his dramatic success with A Simple Plan, ventured into genre territory once more with The Gift. Coupled with an impressive cast headlined by Cate Blanchett and a screenplay penned by the acclaimed duo Billy Bob Thornton and Tom Epperson, known for One False Move, The Gift (The.gift.2000) seemed poised for greatness. However, despite the strong performances and Raimi’s atmospheric direction, the film ultimately falls short due to a screenplay that doesn’t quite live up to its potential. While Raimi and the actors deliver commendable work, the underdeveloped narrative prevents The Gift from becoming the truly compelling thriller it aspired to be.
Raimi masterfully establishes a quintessential Southern Gothic atmosphere from the outset. We are introduced to Annie Wilson (Blanchett), a psychic making ends meet as a fortune teller in a small town in Georgia. She’s also a widowed mother of three, navigating life after the death of her husband. The narrative tension begins to rise when Annie advises Valerie (Hilary Swank), a woman enduring domestic abuse, to leave her volatile husband, Donnie (Keanu Reeves). Donnie, predictably, takes exception to Annie’s interference. Subsequently, the local police, struggling to find leads in the disappearance of Jessica (Katie Holmes), a wealthy young woman, turn to Annie for her psychic abilities. As Annie delves into the mystery, she experiences increasingly disturbing visions, placing her own life in considerable danger.
While the premise might sound like standard television thriller fare, Raimi and the cast initially succeed in masking the material’s inherent thinness. The director paints a vivid picture of the Deep South setting without resorting to stereotypes or condescending portrayals of the characters. The actors, in turn, deliver generally strong performances. Blanchett flawlessly embodies Annie as a woman trying to earn a living with a “gift” that is both a blessing and a curse in her community. Swank maximizes her screen time with a compelling portrayal of a battered wife, and Reeves, in a surprisingly effective and against-type performance, is genuinely menacing as the abusive Donnie. Holmes offers a believable transformation from her Dawson’s Creek persona to a more provocative character as Jessica. Greg Kinnear plays Jessica’s fiancé, whose attention shifts towards Annie after Jessica vanishes, and Giovanni Ribisi portrays Buddy, a troubled young man Annie attempts to assist.
One of the script’s more predictable aspects is the nature of Buddy’s troubles, and unfortunately, it’s not an isolated instance of predictability. Although the central storyline maintains a degree of intrigue, it lacks the embellishments of surprise and depth necessary to elevate it beyond the ordinary. Annie’s relationship with the town and her lingering grief over her husband’s death—a loss she foresaw in a vision—are touched upon but remain underdeveloped. The town’s skepticism towards her gift is mostly conveyed through offscreen shouts of “Witch!” The film briefly sparks interest when, after an apparent arrest in Jessica’s case, it raises questions about the reliability of clairvoyance as the sole “witness” in legal proceedings. The courtroom scenes, featuring Michael Jeter as a slimy defense attorney grilling Annie, stand out as a highlight, showcasing a moment of sharp writing and performance.
However, the film ultimately loses its way in the final act. It doesn’t require extraordinary insight to foresee that the initially presented villain might not be the actual culprit. For many viewers, the climax’s resolution will likely become apparent well before it unfolds. The concluding moments attempt to introduce a mythic dimension to the narrative with a revelation about one of the characters. Yet, within the realistic context established earlier, this twist feels jarring and confusing rather than profound. Furthermore, the horror elements devolve into clichés: cheap jump scares with frightening faces, hazy flashbacks, and characters inexplicably bumping into each other in open spaces. While such techniques might be expected, or at least tolerated, from a less experienced horror director, they are particularly disappointing from Raimi, especially considering the genuine suspense he cultivates in the initial parts of The Gift (the.gift.2000).
One might argue that these conventional horror tropes are Raimi’s attempt to inject energy into the script’s weak final act. Overall, The Gift demonstrates Raimi’s continued respect for the genre, even as he has tempered the dynamic camera work that defined his Evil Dead films. His transition to directing Spider-Man was highly anticipated at the time, and there was hope that he would continue to explore supernatural themes, albeit with stronger narrative foundations than what was provided in The Gift. In conclusion, The Gift (the.gift.2000) is a film with promising elements—strong performances and Raimi’s direction—undermined by a screenplay that ultimately fails to deliver on its initial promise.
