12 IN A BOX Throw together bland black comedy, the dramatic sensibilities of a British tabloid and a plot vaguely recycled from Agatha Christie and you end up with John McKenzie’s 12 in a Box, the latest in a long tradition of European mansion movies. This iteration has a dozen relative strangers struggling to tolerate one another for 96 hours so they can win a huge sum of money. The movie is essentially an endless series of medium shots of one garishly decorated white room after another, giving it the look of a ’70s -era BBC architectural documentary but with the flat, featureless visual upgrade that only digital video could provide. While Jean Renoir and Robert Altman (among others) made their crowded mansions into fascinating characters with whom the human players interacted, McKenzie’s ugly setting reflects the banality of the people and the story within. The only member of the ensemble who manages to acquit himself of this jumbled mess is Brian Mitchell, a one-man Greek chorus, who espouses dry, distinctly British commentary on each asinine situation. A red, digital countdown timer counts down the story’s seemingly eternal 96 hours (and its 91 minutes of screen time). However, unlike the characters in the film (or this critic), you don’t have to enter this especially ugly box in the first place. (Music Hall) (John Wheeler)
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