Now one of the most anticipated directors every time out, M. Night Shamalamadingdong is predictable, no doubt about it, in finding a way to surprise audiences and entice us with bits and pieces of a plot adding up to something expected, yet unforeseen. It's as if he has this eerie calculator formulating the right amount of elements needed to put the audience on edge, then pull the chair out from under us.

If you want me to compare The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs and The Village, it’s not difficult to do so. There are traces of his previous three creepy movies here, which means the audience tenses up at the right moments, anticipates the unknown and waits for The Truth to be revealed. The Village doesn’t deliver any of those three traits with the near-perfection of the previous trio, but doesn’t entirely disappoint, either.

The Village is well made, looks good, sounds enchanting, the acting is superb and ultimately I land far in the affirmative for a recommendation. I can’t, however, say it’s a classic must-see that will draw millions, because there’s too much to made fun of, easily seen by the reaction of my movie-mates Scott, sis-in-law Jenn, her sister, Tippy and my bud, Steven, who arrived ten minutes late but nonetheless could catch the gist in no time. When the movie was over, we gathered in my gas-guzzling world-ending SUV and found plenty of things worthy of laughter, especially the look of the evil beasts terrorizing our protagonists.

If you haven’t seen the movie yet, you might scan the credits above and wonder, “Why is Bryce Dallas Howard listed before Joaquin Phoenix?” “And who the heck is she?”

First off, she’s Ron Howard’s daughter. Second, she does all the heavy lifting in this movie from the time we first meet her, consoling her broken-hearted big sister. You know how when 14-year-olds or the physically disabled are deep thinkers and adults brand them as “old souls”? I’m not one. I have a young, sniveling soul raging against the dying of the light. Howard’s Ivy Walker is an old soul. Howard isn’t blind in real life, and one wonders how a blind person could so easily run around the community, but perhaps it’s just a way to convey how well she knows everything and everyone in her surroundings, except The Truth.

	Reach out and touch some ... thing.

It’s necessary that Howard be outward and honest, because her love interest, Phoenix, doesn’t say much at all. Something new for Shyamalan, the love story is genuine and better than any Shyamalan has put out, a very sweet and driving force among serious emotional and psychological issues. Surprisingly, I wasn’t bitter at all that a dork like Phoenix could land a prize like Howard. I wanted my own blind girl. Where can I order one?

Elsewhere, Oscar winner Adrien Brody is on the cuckoo side of mentally unstable, but seen for the most part by the villagers to be innocent and cuddly. Sigourney Weaver has her own unrequited love with William Hurt to deal with, let alone being the mother to Joaquin, a brave young man who stirs the pot.

The base plot is, Who’s afraid of the Big Red Riding Hoodlum? Set in 1897 rural Pennsylvania, there are mythical creatures warning townspeople to stay away from the forbidden areas, keeping anyone from venturing out or in the community at their own peril.

Forbidden lines circling the village separate it from the forbidden forest, which contains forbidden berries the forbidden color of red. I would explain it, but that’s forbidden, too. No one leaves, no one enters, no one wonders what the heck is going on. The town elders all have a locked box, containing what? Recipes for cornbread? Confederate gold? Courtney Love’s drug stash? If you still believe that all is mythical, I also have significant proof that the Earth is not flat.

What people need to learn is that when you live in a community run by people who try their darndest to keep you immune from what is outside their borders, be it the Branch Davidians vs. the government or the Jim Jones cult vs. reality, you should probably second-guess your elders more often. Don’t drink the Kool-Aid!

Those We Don't Speak Of normally refers to the twists in director M. Night Shyamalan’s movies. If you give away the ending you’ve ruined the entire two hours. The Village people dare not mention the boogie men crawling around the woods, but it doesn’t take long for Shyamalan to show us what they look like, overgrown porcupines in red cloaks.

Since dialogue makes up the majority of scenes in the movie, one starts to notice the awkward script. Even if it’s supposed to be 1897, there’s no way people ever talked like that. In fact, even if someone were acting like they were in 1897 but lived in 2004, it should feel bizarre, unless they were a little daft and naive.

After the seizure-fest known as the action scenes in The Bourne Supremacy, I fully appreciate the cinematography. Shyamalan allows the camera to stay still for lengthy periods of time, and uses little, subtle movement when quick cuts would be used by the rest of the attention deficit MTV generation of Hollywood. M's (that's how he asked me to call him) way is easier to follow, which suits me best.

The movie is very uncommonly revealed after leading us on an alternate path to The Truth. Which is Out There. But no aliens are involved, I swear, nor are there dead people or superheroes in ponchos. And Those We Don’t Speak Of does not involve an evil wizard named Voldemort.

Unlike my brother Scott, I rather liked the twisted resolution. In part, this is because I jokingly said the other day what I wanted the spin to be, and in fact that is how Shyamalan went, too. I’m not sure if this makes me smarter or Shyamalan more pedestrian in his filmmaking.