After six years of film reviewing, I can usually decipher a movie’s formula relatively quickly, especially if it uses a conventional, grade-B serial killer formula, which—judging by its ads and trailers—is exactly what I expected Identity to follow. I am pleasantly surprised to admit that I was wrong; it proved my presumptions incorrect again and again. If being outsmarted by a serial killer flick will hurt your self-esteem, don’t go see it.

At first, Identity appears to be a simple serial killer flick—and, at its heart, it is…sort of, though arriving at its simplicity is no simply task. The ‘whodunit’ plot keeps us guessing, even charitably guiding our speculations; then it informs us that we’ve been guessing about the wrong things entirely, until, of course, the end, when we finally understand the answers were staring us in the face the whole time. If you’re confused now, just wait until you’re in the theater.

Identity, directed by James Mangold (Girl, Interrupted), is an ensemble thriller—you know the kind—where various strangers find themselves in the midst of a treacherous storm and stranded at a creepy locale while a mysterious presence brutally murders them one-by-one.

In this movie, bizarre coincidences force ten random people into an isolated motel in the middle of a desert, run by a creepy clerk (John Hawkes). A woman (Leila Kenzie) is badly injured, while her husband (John C. McGinely) and quiet young son (Bret Loehr) try to get help but cannot due to the weather conditions. A cop (Ray Liotta), who is transporting a killer (Jake Busey), offers little assistance, as his radio is not working. Also among the gathered is a hooker (Amanda Peet) on her way out of Las Vegas; a limo driver (John Cusack) who was driving a has-been movie star (Rebecca De Mornay) to Los Angeles; and two newlyweds (Clea DuVall and William Lee Scott) who are not happy about their marriage.

In the mean time, an 11^th hour hearing takes place for a condemned murderer (Pruitt Taylor Vince). The killer’s psychiatrist (Alfred Molina) has pulled a judge out of bed to overturn his own ruling. Initially, it seems like these parallel plots fit together evenly, but two-thirds of the way through, Identity reveals a twist that changes the film’s whole nature. This is not a conventional, grade B slasher flick; it’s a stunningly original mystery that offers fresh spin on an old genre.

In a film where there is precious little time for character development, finding the right actors is crucial. Michael Cooney’s (Jack Frost 2: Revenge of the Mutant Snowman) script develops the characters through their reactions to their surroundings—a difficult task for actors when they are secluded in small rooms for most of the movie. Luckily, Identity harbors an impressive cast. Although we form quick first impressions about these characters, we do like most of them (Although I have a feeling we like the actors more than the characters themselves.). Surprisingly, John Cusack is my only complaint. His blandness just doesn’t work; the other characters upstage him. Whether intentional or not, Cusack doesn’t make a remotely interesting protagonist here.

Ironically, Identity is being released the same week as Confidence, another brilliant film that defies the very genre to which it belongs, thanks almost entirely to an original, skillful screenplay. It’s refreshing to see this facet of filmmaking enjoy its moment in the spotlight during a time where actors and directors seem to be receiving all the glory. Identity and Confidence remind us that Hollywood owes more to screenwriters than it will ever want to admit.

Peek-A-Boo!