Critic's Grade: A+

It's always a pleasure to sit down to a movie that strays from convention, and "One Hour Photo" is undoubtedly this year's most original, involving, and wholly realistic thriller. It is a story of loneliness, deception (both internal and external), and obsession that skewers the so-called logic and correctness of most American thrillers, and makes its own set of rules. Writer/director Mark Romanek proves this with his handling of his main character, an unpredictable emotional mess who is at once disturbing and, dare I say, worthy of our sympathy. When was the last time you saw such a tactic as this, caring for the antagonist?

The film stars Robin Williams in perhaps the best role of his career, as Sy Parrish, a photo lab technician who spends his waning days working at the local SavMart behind the counter of their one-hour photo processing department. On the outside, he is an everyday, ordinary retail associate who smiles brightly through his misery, is well-kempt and neatly dressed, and offers nothing but kindness to those he encounters.

On the inside, he is a man haunted by the atrocity of loneliness, one who seeks comfort in the consolation of thoughts, fantasies, and wishes, so much so that his own view on reality becomes but a distant element of his past. He seeks this amenity in the unsuspecting Yorkin family, composed of cheery, fashionable wife Nina (Connie Nielsen), hard-working yet distant husband Will (Michael Vartan), and their nine-year-old son, Jakob (Dylan Smith). He sees them as the picture of the American Dream, the portrait of happiness that he so desperately longs for to fill the void in his own existence.

Romanek introduces us into Sy's disturbing world with a subtlety that has long been absent from movies. He glimpses a single shot of a book purchased by Nina, then cutting to Sy's face, registering in our minds a quiet realization. He makes three sets of prints for the Yorkin photos instead of their requested two; the third prints become a part of an ongoing mosaic that covers his living room wall, illuminated by floodlights, the higher photos accessed by a stepstool and examined with a handheld microscope. In a "coincidental" lunchtime conversation with Nina, Sy goes so far as to say, "I might as well be Uncle Sy."

Quite disturbing, really, but more out of its reality than anything else. I'm sure there are many people in the real world who have at one time or another imagined themselves as being a part of another person's life. I, myself, have done such things in my youth, fantasizing about a life of which I was not a part; the problem with Sy is that he is no longer a youth, but a grown man who has known this sort of misery throughout his life. He seeks to bury himself in the artificial comfort of his own delusions, believing that his "family" is his sole source of acceptance and care.

What's even more unsettling is Sy's reaction to his world crumbling down around him. The second half of the film casts him into a series of events that threaten the nature of his relationship with the Yorkin family, and by extension, his fragile mental state. Once he makes the discovery of certain blemishes within the Yorkin's marriage, he begins to lose his grip on his reality, with disastrous results.

There are two surprising sides to the character of Sy, those being the psychological frailties of the character himself that I have previously mentioned, and the stupendous performance from Robin Williams, which is nothing short of Oscar-worthy. Williams, who shocked us with his sudden turn to drama in Christopher Nolan's "Insomnia," ups the ante with his incredibly quiet and suspenseful portrayal of a man haunted by himself. His ability to make the change from personas like that of an elderly English nanny and an adult version of Peter Pan, to the dark, gloomy state in which this character resides, makes him one of the great actors of all time.

Romanek uses Williams' quiet performance as a reference point for his suspense. The shocks and moments of burgeoning intensity are in no way cheap or forced, but come from the acting, the discomfort of knowing that Sy's psyche is a force to be reckoned with, and the equally temperamental cinematography, which features some of the best photography work and symbolism this side of Hitchcock's era. The setting is one of suffocation and depression; we see Sy's life in a manner that makes his escapes into his twisted fantasy seem more inviting with each passing moment.

Of the risks that the filmmakers take, the biggest resides with their choice to keep Sy in sync with the audience on an emotional level. We do receive quite a few chills in watching the development of this unstable character, but his situation is not wholeheartedly monstrous. Consider the film's finale, for example: he doesn't have the heart to do what we have been led to believe all psychologically-disturbed people are capable of, because despite his inhibitions and his anger over the threat of losing his "family," he still cares for them. Could Romanek and Williams possibly be asking us for our sympathy? Could this absolutely stunning portrait of loneliness and desperation be pleading with its audience to look at its character in a different, slightly favorable light? Not since "The Cell" has a movie taken such a risk in creating sympathy for its antagonist, and like that previous effort, it registers as a thought-provoking and intelligent move.

This is the first majorly gripping thriller to come along in years, an inspired piece of filmmaking that takes a risk, and comes out better for it. Loneliness has never been so disturbing, or so fascinating. "One Hour Photo" ranks with the likes of "Psycho" and "The Silence of the Lambs" as one of the all-time great movies.

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