Somewhere along the way between a village and an alien invasion, the new age Alfred Hitchcock and ominous cinematic soothsayer M. Night Shyamalan became arrogant. After he made The Sixth Sense a Best Picture contender in 1999, and followed this success up with some modest achievements and a cast of dream Hollywood actors to work with, Shyamalan thought he could do no wrong. After all, when you work with such talented actors as Bruce Willis, Mel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix and Adrien Brody the real challenge is to make something absolutely unwatchable and ridiculous. Well, M. Night Shyamalan lives up to that dare in Lady In The Water, and has audaciously passed off a metaphysical farce as some sort of grand meditation of human mortality and ambition.

The story starts out simple enough with a woman named Story. She is a strange looking young woman from another world; that is, the people under the water who wish to communicate with people on land. She wants return home to assume her rightful place but every time she makes an effort she is savagely attacked by hideous creatures who don't want her to return home. Is the story behind Lady In The Water tied to an ancient legend, thus somehow lending credence to its believability, ala The Da Vinci Code? It doesn't matter. Fact or fiction, the legend is ludicrous.

Paul Giamatti on the other hand proves his raw talent throughout the film. Frankly, the man deserves an Oscar for making this B movie splash something close to home. Giamatti plays Cleveland Heep the superintendent of an apartment complex, and as usual, plays his character as an everyday "loser" the audience can't help but root for. I admit I did have my doubts as to the actor's ability to carry a film and to deliver a strong male presence; sure, he demonstrated talent in American Splendor and Sideways but I wasn't sure if he really had the celebrity inside him. But Giamatti is truly the most amazing feature about Lady In The Water. He inhibits his role with enthusiasm and confidence, even while adding a stuttering tick to his character's voice. Can we blame him for chewing a little scenery? Heck, it won Robert Deniro and Sean Penn all kinds of Oscar nominations.

M. Night Shyamalan on the other hand, not only proves his talent, he flings it at us like monkey-poo. (Can a critic legally use the phrase monkey-poo?) I believe everybody in show business concedes the directing ability of Shyamalan. Lady In The Water is nothing short of a visual and aural masterpiece. Suspense is created in nearly every single scene and even a sprinkler system being set off can give you quite a scare. He directs all of his movies with a touch of Hitchcock and dab of Kubrick. In terms of visual story telling he could easily rival Steven Spielberg as the best working director today.

The sad fact remains, however, that Lady In The Water lives or dies by its story and the story is a ludicrous mess of farcical happenings and self-conscious teasing. There are many touches of quirky humor in the story, such as the "art critic" played nicely by the always dignified Bob Balaban, who deserves a real movie someday. Shyamalan is so impressed with his own ability he seems to revel in explaining to us what his story means and just how well it transcends the horror genre. He breaks the fourth wall numerous times, having his characters explain their motivation, explain the importance of noticing minor details in the beginning, and even predict their own death according to the "rules" of typical genre pieces. In this case there's no need for Shyamalan to bash us over the head with his wit and reveal the secrets of how to write good horror as if he were breaking the magician's code.

I did detect a little bit of satirical commentary in the various plot twists involving the tenants. Each tenant at some point in the movie seems to misinterpret the mythology of the "Narf" which leads to plenty of false alarms and more farcical moments poking fun at unfulfilled prophecies and organized religion. This leads to little more than comic calamity, nothing so spiritual or horrifying other than mankind's own gullibility.

After we're asked to swallow all of this gullibility and snickering criticism, we're then reminded of the fact that this really is a woman from another world and we each have a destiny to fulfill. Like that other pretentious summer bore-fest, The Da Vinci Code, this movie makes the mistake of filling in major screen time with of oodles and oodles of mind-numbing, supposedly historical dialogue as interpreted by idiots. It doesn't film well, not like a suspense movie or a black-humored adventure--more like a technical support call for Yahoo Internet that's fixing to go escalated. (Actually, Paul Giamatti does spend an inordinate amount of time requesting help on a phone) Come on now, Manoj. You had to be goofing on us 50% of this "movie", which is really just an assemblage of nonsensical scenes, facetious acting, (which Paul was too noble to attempt) and some weird computer graphics. The whole movie centered around the word "Narf." Somewhere the mouse Pinky from the old Animaniacs show must be laughing it up.

I'm convinced, not that the brilliant director failed by making a very misguided film; rather, that he really stuck it to his audience by marketing a sitcom as some sort of spiritual awakening--or worse yet, a suspense movie. As soon as Shyamalan humbles himself by returning to relevant story-telling, he will achieve his destiny as a master of cinema and somewhere a little boy will be inspired by his work and grow up to change the world. Get it? One corny joke deserves another. Grade: C-