Okay, I think I get the premise of the movie “The Box”. Guy comes to your house and says, “Push the button. You get a fat wad of cash. Somebody dies.” How do you get a feature film out of that? The automatic response should be “Get the hell out of my house, you giant freak.” Roll credits. That’s a short film, at best.
And even is you were a little on the sociopathic narcissist side and inclined to accept such offers, you’d say it any way in this movie, cause the guy with the box (ahem, smutty contradiction duly noted) is Frank Langella. When has any offer ever made by Frank Langella ever in the history of filmdom ever, ever turned out well? He’s the new Peter Cushing. Dracula. Boris Balkan. Nixon. Any of this ringing bells? He’s not playing a kindly old gentleman. If he offers you a piece of butterscotch candy, you say “No, thank you, Frank Langella. Believe I’ll pass on the hard candy and keep my soul, if it’s all the same to you. Get out of my house, you giant freak.” It’s a cinematic given.
The only thing that I can see that would stretch that plot to even a half hour is the chance to stare at the pretty, pretty James Marsden. But if he doesn’t sing, it would be a long half hour.
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isn't this an adaptation of an old Twilight Zone ep? I could swear I remember watching it decades ago - it was a good one but 22 min was plenty can't imagine stretching it tp 90+
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