A teenage fun-pack version of a David Lynch movie, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Writer/director Richard Kelly does it well. He learned the right lessons about the kind of ambiguity that gets an audience buzzing about what the hell they just saw—and that makes them want to see it again to spot more clues and foreshadowing. The people who love Donnie Darko REALLY love it. It’s a film that’s got “cult classic” written all over it. It bombed in theaters, partly because it depicts an airplane disaster that made American exhibitors nervous after 9/11. What followed though was one of the last big video store success stories, a film that caught on through word of mouth and became a popular rental. It’s a perfect fate for a film so fixated on the 1980s, when that sort of thing happened all of the time.
Kelly, by the way, nails the spirit of 1988 here. It’s neither false nor labored. Kelly was there. He’s a mere one year older than me (he made this film when he was 25, that son of a bitch) and, yeah, this is what homes and classrooms and autumn streets looked like back then. It’s another parallel with Lynch, who’s 1950s-early 1960s upbringing informs almost of all of his work. Lynch’s Bobby Vinton, Linda Scott, Elvis and troubled small town romances become Kelly’s Echo and the Bunnymen, Joy Division, Tears for Fears and fateful Halloween party night here.
Today, you have two different versions of the film to choose from, the original release and a 2004 Director’s Cut that restores music cues and adds in deleted scenes that Kelly didn’t have the clout in 2001 to get into theaters, mostly due to its two-hours-plus run time. To Kelly’s and 20th Century Fox’s credit, they’re good about keeping both cuts available so you can decide for yourself.
My own verdict (yes, I watched both of these fuckers): the original theatrical cut is better. It’s the most mysterious and it has a neat George Romero’s Martin quality, in that it keeps you curious as to whether Jake Gyllenhaal is REALLY out of his mind when he keeps seeing a guy in a bunny suit who tells him to do shady things for cryptic reasons. By contrast, the Director’s Cut reveals more of the game and becomes a clear piece of science-fiction, as opposed to the eerie horror/drama of the earlier release. It’s still a strong piece of work, admirable for its wild vision executed on a small budget, but it clears up a few too many dark clouds for me. And I’m a stormy weather kinda guy.
Followed by a sequel, S. Darko, that Richard Kelly had nothing to do with. I’m guessing that he sold off the sequel rights to some real weasels as part of his deal to get this film made. It happens. Approach the follow-up with caution.