Unbreakable is disappointing precisely because it has so much promise. In fact, the first half (even two-thirds!) of the film is quite good. Bruce Willis plays David Dunne, a security guard who mysteriously survives a devastating train wreck. In fact, he is the only one who survives, walking away from the crash literally without a scratch. Samuel L. Jackson plays Elijah Price, seemingly Dunne's opposite. Price has a rare genetic disorder that renders his bones extremely fragile — so much so that simple falls that would leave most of us with some cuts and bruises literally shatter him.

After local media report on Dunne's miraculous survival, Price leaves him a note on his van; he wants to contact him in order to confirm a metaphysical theory. If Price is unusually weak and brittle, then maybe Dunne is his polar opposite: unusually strong and able to survive what would kill most of us. In fact, Price believes that Dunne may be a superhero!

Much of Unbreakable is a process of self-discovery. Dunne first doubts—then begins to investigate—the possibility that he is a sort of uebermensch. Furthermore, Price prods him to consider whether he has a purpose greater than himself, whether he is here to help the weak, fight evil, etc.

At this point, we begin to witness what may be a disturbing theme in Unbreakable — and perhaps in Shyamalan's worldview (though I know almost nothing of the latter). In a conversation with Dunne's wife, Price notes, "It's a mediocre time....People are starting to lose hope. It's hard for many to believe that extraordinary things live inside themselves as well as others." Price's interest (nay, obsession) with Dunne stems not just from a desire to find a superhero, but from a desire to break the grip of a perceived mediocrity that supposedly stifles the greatness living just underneath the surface of humanity.

This search for greatness, coupled with the superhero motif, can serve as a dangerous meme in social and political thought. Price presumes that everyone is like him, losing hope in a "mediocre" age, searching for a figure to rescue us, give us purpose, provide leadership. He seems to dismiss everyday life as a chore, even a distraction, from his quest for greatness. This devaluing of the banal, the average, the mediocre, can lead to cruel or stupid acts — after all, if the herd is just an impediment to greatness (and if greatness is the highest good), then eradicating a few steer is completely justified, even necessary. (At the end, we see that Price takes this line of reasoning to its logical conclusion.)

To be fair, Shyamalan backs away from Price's methods and offers a sort of corrective at the end. However, he doesn't back away from the notion of Dunne as a superhero, from the metaphysical bipolarity between Dunne and Price, and from the value of Dunne's newfound identity as an uebermensch. In fact, as Dunne starts to become accustomed to his superhero skin, the rest of his life (namely, his strained relationship with his wife and son) starts to fall into place.

There of course lies an unintended irony beneath all of this. In criticizing mediocrity, Shyamalan makes a mediocre film! I wrote earlier that the first half to two-thirds of the movie was actually quite good, and I stand by that claim. I would go so far as to say that Shyamalan presents an intriguing, philosophically sophisticated perspective regarding (of all things) comic books. However, when Dunne starts testing his superhero powers, the movie takes a turn for the silly. We no longer see a depressed man desperately seeking purpose and identity (and finding it!). Rather, Shyamalan turns Dunne into a silly, clumsy superhero caricature. Rather than raise the comic book to a new philosophical level for an audience that might be skeptical, Shyamalan ends up regressing to a wide-eyed, juvenile fascination with superheroes beating up the "bad guys," saving the weak and innocent, and mesmerizing a stupefied and gullible public ("Who was that masked man?").

Since it appears that The Sixth Sense was an aberration in a largely uninteresting (and overrated) career, Shyamalan perhaps should step back and take stock of the value of the banal, the mediocre, and the everyday — in other words, the lives that most of us lead. I've written elsewhere on the danger of "greatness" in a political context; that kind of sentiment can lead to the worst excesses, as political leaders take cruel, authoritarian measures to achieve collectivist glory. Yet, the search for greatness on an individual level can have negative consequences, as well. Besides the obvious moral danger of idolatry and self-aggrandizement, the search for greatness can leave one perpetually unsatisfied and frustrated. High expectations can lead to high disappointment, whereas low expectations, if met, can lead to satisfaction — and if exceeded, can even lead to happiness!

Thus, even though Shyamalan holds Price somewhat accountable at the end, he does not go far enough. He should have renounced completely Price's search for worldly, human-centered greatness and should have portrayed to the audience the value of the mediocre life. I suggest that Shyamalan lead by example, recognizing the mediocrity of his own work and stopping his incessant drive to be clever and "meaningful." Maybe he next should try his hand at a light romantic comedy, the pure embodiment of cinematic mediocrity.