Who knew plagiarism could be so dangerous? Clearly not writer Mort Rainey (Johnny Depp), who, at the beginning of David Koepp's neat, little thriller Secret Window, is accosted by drawling hick John Shooter (John Turturro) with the accusation that he stole a short story from Shooter. Mort has spent the last six months holed up in a cabin in upstate New York, hiding from his estranged wife Amy (Maria Bello), who has taken up with a new man (Timothy Hutton) and is pressing Mort to sign divorce papers. He's depressed, lonely and creatively blocked, and the last thing he needs is some crackpot showing up on his doorstep accusing him of being a thief.
It's not exactly the typical beginning for a thriller, copyright infringement generally not considered as the basis for riveting cinema. But writer-director Koepp, working from a Stephen King novella, makes Mort's predicament and its escalating consequences scary and engrossing. As Shooter becomes more and more belligerent, murdering Mort's blind, old dog and threatening Amy, Mort brings in a private detective (Charles S. Dutton) and becomes increasingly unhinged, questioning his own perceptions of the events that go on around him.
Koepp is one of the most in-demand screenwriters in Hollywood, the pen behind blockbusters like Panic Room, Spider-Man and Jurassic Park, and he knows how to craft a story. His past directorial efforts, The Trigger Effect and Stir of Echoes, were similarly tight and efficient thrillers, and here, his direction is every bit as good as his writing. He's helped tremendously by a great performance from Depp, who, as in Pirates of the Caribbean, is clearly slumming but having a great time. Although the plot is really just a mish mash of stalker clichés, with a twist ending that's not exactly revelatory, Depp imbues Mort with such humor and pathos that you really feel for him, and Koepp's script is livelier in the dialogue than it is in the plotting. Turturro plays more broadly, acting like the sinister version of his O Brother, Where Art Thou? character, but provides a decent counterbalance to Depp's grounded portrayal.
It's a little tiresome that King keeps writing stories about writers whose stories take over their lives, but Secret Window somehow makes that struggle universal. Mort is a guy suffering from all sorts of guilt, from his broken marriage to an actual act of plagiarism in his past, and he shields himself with a veneer of sarcasm and indifference. Depp easily imparts Mort's insecurity, though, with simple facial tics and small gestures like the way he munches on chips. He also sports some truly epic bed-head as Mort awakens from his frequent naps, wrapped in a worn bathrobe, interested only in shutting out the rest of the world.
The film's final act, once the twist is revealed, doesn't do justice to Depp's performance, nor to the complexities Koepp set up for Mort, but it's forgivable in the context of what is essentially just a thriller. Koepp has made a career out of elevating basic thrillers from simple entertainment to something more rewarding, and Depp naturally elevates any of his projects. That Secret Window could have been more unconventionally satisfying is a small complaint. Taken within its genre, it's a terrifically fun ride.