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There’s been a curious tendency lately for filmmakers to remake movies that weren’t all that great in the first place. With Willard, director Glen Morgan shows marked improvement over previous questionable green-lighted renovations, but still collapses into a spastic amalgamate of genres and emotions that ultimately damage an enjoyable horror romp.

Crispin Glover was born to play the role of Willard Stiles, a mama’s boy approaching middle age who works for his late father’s (portrayed by a portrait of former Willard Bruce Davison in the best opening credits in years) manipulative business partner (Full Metal Jacket’s R. Lee Ermey). Dominated and controlled by everyone from Ermey to his decrepit mother (Jackie Burroughs), Willard’s life begins to turn around only when he befriends a horde of rats living in his basement.

The premise is campy, but is initially handled with an ample dose of seriousness and self-reflexive fun. The grotesque nature of Mrs. Stiles, for one, is ridiculously over-the-top; and Willard’s relationship with the rats is never condescending but quite sympathetic to the bullied man-child.

Glover retains his distinct manner of speech, posture, and expression, but brilliantly infuses it with the juvenile frustration and tepid attitude that his character possesses. Although Willard admittedly runs rather close to Glover’s own personality, the transformation is there, especially as Willard’s conspiratorial ways begin to convert from the wide-eyed friendship he shares with a cute white rat named Socrates to the domineering, damaging relationship he has with an enormous rat named Ben.

And the rats! Despite a small budget and a rather fearless spirit behind it, Willard features some of the best special effects and production design to grace the screen in some time. Watch as the Stiles home continues to decay, or as up to 500 rats-real rats!-scurry across the floor, scouring for food. CGI effects are used sparingly, making the efforts of preeminent mouse master Boone Narr (Mouse Hunt, The Green Mile) all the more remarkable.

The first half of the movie rolls along, but soon it becomes apparent its missing a sort of central tonal pillar-as it closes, the film spirals out of control, culminating in a disappointing, forgettable ending that does little to quench the darker nature of the rest of the film. In its indecision to be a comedy, a B-movie, an honest horror film, or just a very bizarre drama, Willard loses considerable momentum and the interest of a wristwatch-aware audience. Director Morgan, who along with producer James Wong was largely responsible for the success of 'The X-Files,' is surprisingly assured in his directorial debut, but it feels like the material spun out of his control at the end-probably due to a rash of test screenings.

Still, it’s pleasant to see an independent-minded anomaly like Willard slip out from a major studio, especially during the dull March months. It’s also a pleasure to see an actor as underappreciated and misunderstood as Crispin Glover receive a long-overdue name above the title. Let’s just hope to God they decide against remaking Ben.

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