Dramatic stuff to be sure, though far removed from the sort of nail-biting thriller narrative audiences have come to expect from the man-in-a-confined-space sub-genre (think: Ryan Reynolds in Buried, Colin Farrell in Phone Booth, etc.).
Most man-in-a-can titles wear out their welcome quickly, including “ Phone Booth ,” about a man trapped in you know what, and “ Buried ,” about a far less lucky guy buried alive in a coffin; in “Gravity,” Sandra Bullock switched cans often enough that the movie never felt oppressive.
Most people would think of something along the lines of “Phone Booth,” “Rear Window,” “or “12 Angry Men,” films that thrilled us with their suspenseful plots, making us sit on the edge of our seats in anticipation of what was going to happen next.
Has even that been taken from us? "Locke" belongs to a mini-trend of movies set in enclosed spaces (see "Phone Booth" with Colin Farrell and the coffin-set "Buried" with Ryan Reynolds), but more tellingly it continues the idea, seen in Cronenberg's " Cosmopolis ," that the car is no longer a refuge but an extension of the home and office, a mobile space that through wireless technology remains connected to the pressures of work and family.
Movies that take place in real time and/or confined spaces may sound like flimsy gimmicks — see: “Phone Booth,” “Buried” — but when they work, they can be supremely gripping.
"Phone Booth" and "Buried" are but two examples of thrillers with one character in an enclosed space but writer/director Steven Knight (writer "Dirty Pretty Things," "Eastern Promises"), his star Tom Hardy ("Warrior," "The Dark Knight Rises") and cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos ("Thor") have created such a compelling study of a man hanging onto his morals from within a pressure cooker it's as if they'd invented the genre.