[rating=2]

The virus suddenly seemed arbitrary when she saw Godzilla in her backyard

A Contaminated Feature…

In the wake of the success of such films as “28 Days (+Weeks) Later”, the “Resident Evil” trilogy, “I Am Legend”, “Cloverfield” and a trillion others – some good, some terrible – to come out and make another apocalyptic drama, where the threat is massive and unstoppable, seems to be a risky move, especially with literally no budget to supplement it. The novelty of those films’ relevance tends to quickly wear off, baring the so-called meat’n'bones that shape the film. Apart from the numerous nods to the current political chaos, the question is whether a film can stand on its own, with a strong plot to complement the dreary poignancy of post-9/11 imagery.
“Right at Your Door” cannot accomplish this. It tries hard, mind you, or rather insistently attempts to keep the tension level sky high using only dialogue between two people, trapped in a situation that first comes off as truly terrible and heart-wrenching, but gradually becomes more and more unbelievable as the film progresses.
It seems like just another typical L.A. day, when struggling musician Brad (the reliable Rory Cochrane) wakes up next to the sexy wealthy Lexi (Mary McCormack) (oooh, can you see the conflict building here?). She’s off to work; and then the film plunges right into its premise. Brad hears shocking reports on the radio about ‘dirty bombs’ going off in downtown L.A. His first priority is to get Lexi. The city emanating ominous black fumes in the background (hauntingly evoking 9/11), Brad races through the hilly neighborhood, trying to get through the panicking police.

At this point, the audience is hooked: the tension is palpable, the situation all-too-real. Those early scenes are directed and edited so well, it’s doubly disappointing to realize that the film’s momentum screeches to a halt once Brad returns home (about 15 mins into the film) to find a frightened man who’s rushed in from the chaotic streets, and together they begin to seal up the house. At this point it’s clear Brad ain’t getting out, and the action is going to be limited to indoors. When Lexi comes back through the rain of ash (an effective shot; one of the very few), coughing and spitting blood, Brad refuses to let her in, and the film hangs on their dialogue, spoken through a shield of firmly-taped plastic.
Richard Linklater did it in “Tape”, but Chris Gorak (art-director on films like “Fight Club” and “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”) is no Linklater – here the conversation between husband and wife fails at sustaining interest. It’s ‘been there, seen that’ territory. You can predict the characters’ actions (not that they do all that much to begin with). There are a few scenes that approach a mild level of suspense, most of them involving unresponsive dudes in masks questioning Brad through sealed doors, and the heart-wrenching (or more like tear-jerking) interactions between Brand and Lexi. If the outcome does come a bit unexpectedly, to call it satisfying would be a long stretch. It actually makes less and less sense the more you think about it afterwards.
So while “Right at Your Door” starts off on a high note, it literally disintegrates into low-budget drivel – cruel, shriek-y, depressing pseudo-artsy fair. It says nothing new about terrorism, or its effects, and what it does say is bleak and monotonous. A better director, say, Danny Boyle, may have turned this film into an edge-of-your-seat apocalyptic drama. As it is, “Right at Your Door”, like its dying female protagonist, should remain locked behind it.