M. Night Shyamalan has built what appears to be an infinitely promising career by writing and directing stories that take common premises of science fiction and bringing them down to earth (more specifically, down to Pennsylvania), 
making them matters of fact while hoping that when he pulls the cord and asks us to believe, we are right there with him. His task is a daunting one, because most of us are, by nature, skeptics and the hundreds of filmmakers who have attempted similar feats before him, have failed, with few exceptions. Mr. Shyamalan, the most dynamically original master storyteller to emerge in recent years (Mark Pellington and Paul Thomas Anderson are hot on his tail), has made three major commercial movies (the first two, 1992's Praying with Anger and 1998's Wide Awake are negligible) and we can break them down topically into three tried and true stand-bys of Sci-fi. In order of appearance: A “Ghost” story (The Sixth Sense), a “Superhero” movie (Unbreakable) and now with Signs, he handles the “Alien Invasion” film. Ghosts, Superheroes, and Aliens. Quickly, run through your head all the “Ghost” movies you have seen – some were pretty good (Ghost, What Lies Beneath, The Others) and some were pretty bad (Always, House on Haunted Hill, Heart Condition) and some were the best movie ever made according to rabbinical student Ben Skydell (Casper). Without hesitation, I can say that The Sixth Sense is unlike any “Ghost” movie ever made before it, and not only because of that wicked twist finale. Shyamalan has developed an entirely fresh method of storytelling – a combination of laboriously slow pacing, child phenom acting (All three movies have young boys who look and act alike – eerily mature), and dialogue spoken in somber tones of coarse straightforwardness to create a cinematic mosaic tiled in grays, and whites, but mostly, in blacks. Each scene is a small, self-important piece. We fade into a scene and the camera is just somewhere it has never been before, some lines are spoken, perhaps not a word is uttered – we see something – it bothers us deep in our stomach and we are not sure why – maybe we are about to figure it out – the scene fades away like a phantom. Each piece is constructed in this same manner and each piece has a purpose, because Shyamalan is always and without a doubt leading somewhere. The only question is: Are we following? Do we believe?
I found it amusing in an unsettling sense that America latched onto and embraced so readily The Sixth Sense (which was a real credit to our sophisticated taste) and yet when Unbreakable was released, a film in which Shyamalan proved resoundingly that he was for real; the reception was mixed. All of a sudden, the believers were at the office or stuck in elevators. “I mean, ghosts are one thing, but superheroes standing next to me at the check out line – not wearing costumes – not in a city with a fictional name, but in Philly – not with muscles bulging from regions unknown – not landing here from another planet or created by mutation or a tormented vigilante, but simply a man who is biologically gifted from a higher power and therefore destined to stop a biologically cursed man