Scott LeBrun It took filmmaker Robin Hardy over a dozen years to follow up his well loved cult flick "The Wicker Man". And judging by the results here, one might be inclined to think that he turned out to be a one-trick pony. Adapting the novel "Goosefoot", he spins the yarn of young Patricia Teeling (Moira Harris, a.k.a. Mrs. Gary Sinise), a simple Irish country lass who moves away from the family farm to work as a teacher in Dublin. She is aggressively romanced by American expatriate author Danny Sullivan (Timothy Bottoms, "The Last Picture Show", "The Paper Chase"). Meanwhile, a serial killer who clearly loves to hear themselves talk is phoning unfortunate young women, then murdering them."The Fantasist" is ultimately hurt by being overly silly and incredibly trite. It's set up way too obviously to create much suspense, or derive much pleasure from it. Also, Danny's attempts to be quirky and charming just come off as goofy a lot of the time. Bottoms is clearly having fun with this character, but Danny's shtick wears out its welcome early on. The story is plodding and doesn't offer much interest, but at least the distinctive Irish flavor helps to keep it watchable, along with decent work by Ms. Sinise, who's reasonably appealing. Christopher Cazenove ("Eye of the Needle", "A Knight's Tale") is pretty good as the inspector working the case, and the supporting cast (including John Kavanagh as Patricia's co-worker Robert Foxley and Mick Lally as the hearty Uncle Lar) is solid. Effective location shooting and the music by Stanislas Syrewicz further assist in making this as watchable as it is.For those interested, Ms. Sinise does do some nudity late in the film.Five out of 10.

Ali Catterall Director Robin Hardy's reputation rests almost exclusively on his 1973 cult classic, The Wicker Man. On the evidence of this, there it should stay. Wicker fans whose curiosity has been pricked should step quickly over The Fantasist as if it were a polystyrene pebble, for it holds no weight and will do them no good.Overgrown Catholic schoolgirl Patricia Teeling (Harris) takes on a teaching post in Dublin, against the misgivings of her suburban relatives. "We don't want you picking up their city ways up there!" Her vocation coincides with a series of murders, perpetrated on young women by a nuisance caller with an especially mellifluous delivery, and who possibly supplements his income penning homilies for Hallmark greeting cards. "I'm the light in your jade green eyes where the sun bursts through and turns our stone grey city into gold. I am the melting feeling in your tummy when you hear music so sublimely beautiful you want to cry." If his poetry (which makes the average Vogon's efforts seem like TS Eliot) doesn't polish them off, the old knife-between-the-shoulder-blades trick certainly will."The man of my dreams is an imaginative rock," Patricia tells her flatmate, and soon attracts three unsuitable suitors, one of whom might be the killer. Could it be beardy weirdy English master Robert Foxley (Kavanagh)? He gargles wine loudly in restaurants. Plus, he's got a silly beard. In fact, he looks just like one of those upside-down faces in optical illusion books. And his romantic small talk consists of stuff like "I knew you'd make a good mother, Patricia." That's not good.Love interest number two is her downstairs neighbour, the nervy American writer Danny Sullivan (Bottoms). He's married, so he's not a great catch. He also does a neat line in dirty phone calls in funny voices (to his wife, he claims). Then again, his wife is shortly bound for the chop. However, this doesn't stop our Pat hiding coins down her knickers so he can divine them with his rod (no euphemism intended). "I guess I just trust him," this latter-day Little Red Riding Hood tells suitor number three, Christopher Cazenove's Inspector McMyler, who keeps blown-up photos of the victims in his cottage, and wants to photograph Pat in the nude. Casual viewers will have figured out by now that Patty isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.This is a very silly film indeed; featuring grating overacting and a grating 1980s soundtrack, all tourist board Gaelic flutes and stabbing synths. Level 42 even make a cameo appearance performing the cheesiest white-funk since... well, Level 42 really are in a class of their own.Lacking a playwright of Anthony Shaffer's stature, the dialogue's in dire need of an editor (sample line: "Death tries its best to rival procrastination as a thief of time"). The cinematography's functional at best, while scenes cutting between the slaughter of a victim and the carving of a roast merely underscore the clunkiness.Most depressingly (in Hardy's hands) the film also panders to Vatican-friendly genre cliché, with Patricia's potential fate prompted through her burgeoning sexual liberation. Contrast this with the subversive Wicker Man, in which sex is portrayed as a guilt-free, joyous affair through which the protagonist could have saved himself, if only he'd actually had it.Here, the one fleetingly erotic scene is deftly undermined by the killer merrily using Patricia's bare buttocks as a pair of bongos. What a symphony he could have produced with Willow MacGregor, the landlord's daughter in The Wicker Man!

The_Void I saw this movie for one reason and one reason only and, probably like everyone else who has seen it, that reason is because the film is directed by Robin Hardy; the man behind the all-time cult classic 'The Wicker Man'. I honestly have no idea how a man behind such a great film as The Wicker Man could end up directing something as crap as this. The Fantasist does not have a very good reputation, and that's hardly surprising as this film is completely boring. It was thirteen years between the release of this film and Robin Hardy's classic, but I actually believe that shooting for The Fantasist began in 1974, only production was slow as the cast and crew kept on falling asleep during shooting! The film takes place in Ireland and follows an Irish woman who moves to Dublin. It's not long before she begins receiving obscene phone calls from a stranger, and (coincidently?) there also happens to be a killer on the loose known as 'The Phone Call Killer'. Most people in that situation would change their phone number, but our heroine is drawn to the mystery caller instead...The film starts off slowly but any hopes of it getting better are quickly dashed when it becomes quite clear that the pace is never going to pick up. This movie will grind you down; such is the sheer boredom on display. The film could be termed a slasher since people get sliced and diced, but it seems that Robin Hardy wanted it to be a bit more than just a slasher, and it's backfired horribly as there is no interest created around the central premise which absolutely kills it. Robin Hardy also had no luck in the casting department either as American actress Moira Harris fails to convince or generate any sympathy from the audience. The Wicker Man was a largely aesthetic affair with the picturesque island featuring strongly as well as the standout ending; but there's nothing like that here; all the locations are dreary and drab and that adds to the intense torture that is The Fantasist. Hardy probably wanted the movie to be a bit steamy and while there are brief flashes of nudity, the film certainly isn't sexy (though a sequence that sees the killer undress a girl with his knife is one of the few memorable moments). It all boils down to a stupid and predictable ending and overall, I would not recommend this rubbish even to hardcore fans of The Wicker Man.

Randall Phillip The plot jumps around a bit so you really don't understand the connections between various characters, and the movie is quite illogical at times. However, there are enough freaky moments to make this worth viewing. "What the Hell?!" popped into my mind many times- in a pleasurable way. The dialogue is great as well. If you want an interesting experience, bear with this VERY odd one.