Text card explaining the genealogy of the word ‘sicario’ The modern day usage of ‘Sicario’ means hitman. Establishing shot of a neighborhood in Arizona.Soldiers invade the domestic space. Kate (Emily Blunt) gets ready for the operation. A tank breaks in through the wall. and dust blows everywhere Kate (Emily Blunt) avoids getting shot and kills her assailant. Kate (Emily Blunt) is assisted by Reggie (Daniel Kaluuya) after her encounter. Reggie finds two bodies behind the wall. The film starts with the genealogy of the term “sicario”, a word that initially referred to zealots who killed for their values that now means assassin in Mexico. In other words, the word has transformed from a protector fighting for something to nothing more than a killer. Where does on term end and the other begin? How do they reconcile? These are the questions at the heart of Sicario.
An establishing shot reveals soldiers infiltrating a domestic neighborhood – the homeland has been infiltrated by an enemy hiding in plain sight and the protectors are on their way. Kate, the head of the operation, has her tank bulldoze through the house and then bests an assailant in a gun-fight leading to the individual’s death. However, his bullet ricochet reveals the house in question is nothing more than a mausoleum, filled to the brim with bodies. In other words, the domestic foundation has become the birthplace of the macabre.
The film starts by defining the term ‘sicario’: it was initially used to refer to zealots defending their homeland but means ‘hitman’ in the status quo. Though both interpretations of the word signify a killer, one is oriented around protecting ideals while the other seems to confirm a nihilistic kill-or-be-killed world where no values could persist. This dichotomy between the two meanings of the word represents the battleground Sicario takes place on as it explores what the transition between the terms signifies about the world in a paradigmatic sense.
The establishing shot starts from the vantage point of the idealistic interpretation of the word: a domestic view of a neighborhood in Arizona is interrupted as a group of soldiers, defenders of the homeland, creep into frame while the late Jóhann Jóhannsson’s palpable score reverberates like a droning heartbeat in the background, adding to the feeling of tension. The leader of the group, Kate (Emily Blunt), sits in a tank ready for breach before the vehicle breaks into a house, scattering dust all over the area. She gets down to investigate the residence with her squad but is suddenly caught off guard by a armed resident in the house. She evades his bullet and manages to kill him. The sound calms down. It seems like the dust has settled.
However, his bullet, despite missing her, opens another wound that proves to be even more devastating . The wall, broken in by the impact of the shot, reveals a series of bagged up corpses hiding within – a simple hostage retrieval becomes a mortifying entry into the macabre.
Kate (Emily Blunt) goes outside to vomit. Reggie (Daniel Kaluuya) goes outside to vomit. Officers find a padded cell. A close-up of one of the hidden corpses. The hut blows up. Kate (Emily Blunt) is caught in the debris. A severed arm appears. Kate (Emily Blunt) tries to wash the blood of the day off of her. Kate (Emily Blunt) looks into her clouded image, unable to fully see herself. Just when Kate thinks the situation has settled, an explosion is triggered and the dust which had finally settled is thrown up in bloody aplomb. Kate walks through the hellscape and sees a severed hand for her troubles. At home, she desperately tries to wash the filth of the obscene events out of her body and mind, but as she stares into her self image, it’s clear that her image of the world has already started to change.
Kate immediately goes outside to vomit. Being a soldier doesn’t entail being unaffected by such senseless violence, and the brutality of the situation shakes Kate and her crew. She’s asked by personnel on how to document the situation given its severity. Kate insists that the records reveal everything; transparency is more necessary than ever.
While she tries to get an accurate count on the number of bodies in the house, a group of officers outside find a padlocked door in a shed and try and open it. The cuts and expectations established previously lead the viewer to think it’s more bodies hidden away, but the intense heartbeat track comes back signaling shifting times. Suddenly, the shed explodes.
Debris and dust scatter everywhere, obfuscating the frame, and Kate is once again lost in the fog of the situation, unable to see anything besides the carnage. The domestic area turned mausoleum has now become the site of an explosion – suburbia rendered into a site of gratuitous violence. In her efforts to preserve the rule of law, Kate finds herself soaked with so much blood that she can’t seem to scrub it all off in the shower. As she looks into a clouded reflection of herself in her bathroom mirror, it’s clear her more idealistic worldview has been delivered a tremendous blow.
Kate’s superiors speak to Matt (Josh Brolin) about her qualifications. Kate (Emily Blunt) addresses Matt (Josh Brolin) and her superiors. Kate notices that Matt is wearing flip-flops.Kate is offered an opportunity to deal with the people “really responsible” for the violence she saw by an man, initially framed as imposing and mysterious, named Matt. After questioning Kate and informing of her of his mission, she volunteers for his task force and leaves the area, emboldened to achieve her mission. However, as she leaves she notices Matt’s attire is completely distinct from everyone else. He’s in shorts and flip-flops as opposed to a suit and boots. The disjunct between personality, mission, and appearance all serve to highlight the way image is modulated and not defined. The question becomes why Matt is presenting himself in this way and the answer has to do with the themes the film tries to develop.
The next day comes. Kate and her partner on the force, Reggie (Daniel Kaluuya), wait outside of a glass-paned room as their superiors discuss the previous day’s mission. A man speaks to the group with the camera positioned to his back. His framing suggests importance and a sense of mystery. He asks about Kate and Reggie’s respective backgrounds, approving of Kate’s but rejecting Reggie upon hearing about his legal education. The group calls Kate in and introduces her to the man of the hour, Matt (Josh Brolin).
First, he asks her about her relationship and child status. He’s abrupt and straight to the point. She responds she’s both divorced and childless. He tells her he’s hunting the cartels behind the bodies and bombings. She expresses interest. Her superior, Forsing (Jeffrey Donovan) tells her that joining such a task-force requires volunteering for the position. She asks Matt if they’ll be able to hold the people who committed the acts responsible. He guarantees that they’ll be able to deal with the masterminds behind the operation itself.
She agrees with no hesitation and her journey begins. However, as she leaves the room, she notices that the charming, yet serious Matt, shrouded in mystery, is wearing flip-flops in sharp contrast to everyone else in the room wearing business professional clothing – another indication that appearances are not to be trusted. Images are always imbued with an purpose and can’t be taken at face value.
Establishing shot of Nogales, Mexico. Silvio (Maximiliano Hernández) is woken by his son. Silvio (Maximiliano Hernández) puts on his police uniform and walks his son to the soccer field. The film cuts to Mexico and establishes another domestic hub; this time the subjects are Silvio, a cop, and his wife and son. Though seemingly a respite, the turn to a house in the wake of the destruction of another house along with the invocation of Mexico and cartel violence is anxiety inducing because it serves as the nexus point of multiple points of concern. It may be peaceful for now, but the story has confirmed that this will be a site of turmoil later. The family’s journey here is a counterpoint to Kate’s own journey.
The film cuts to a neighborhood in Nogales, Mexico. A young boy wakes up his father, Silvio(Maximiliano Hernández), to ask him to play soccer. Silvio gets up, eats breakfast while getting a nice helping of side-eye from his wife, puts on his police uniform, and then proceeds to take his son out on a walk. This adjunct narrative is a sense of normalcy that gives the viewer a reprieve from the violence; however, its presence immediately generates a sense of unease. The opening’s mention of Mexico in relation to sicario qua assassin, the eruption of violence in the American residence, the focus on cartel violence, and Silvio’s status as police officer transform a seemingly benign scene and moment into one that threatens to become catastrophic.
Reggie is sent home while Kate (Emily Blunt) is allowed to proceed. Kate (Emily Blunt) sees an unknown man(Benicio del Toro) near the plane along with Matt(Josh Brolin).The plane flies over a mountain whose size engulfs it. The route to Kate’s first mission sets up the twists and turns to come. Despite being legally permitted, Reggie, the lawyer, is turned away at the gates. When Kate gets to the airplane, she meets another mysterious figure who she was unaware of. Then when she’s on the plane, this figure, Alejandro, reveals that the location of the mission is not in the United States but is in Mexico instead. As the plane makes it’s way to its destination, its shadow is swallowed by the wild canvas of the mountains – a premonition of things to come and a confirmation that Kate is going to be engulfed by the task at hand.
Back in the United Sates, Reggie drives Kate to her first day on Matt’s team. She’s told she’s going to El Paso with them on some preliminary task-work. However, upon getting to the gate, Reggie is denied access and the uncertainty about the situation increases. The emissary of the law is not allowed to pry his eyes upon this supposedly legal execution of justice. He’s forced to leave as Kate continues forward.
As she gets closer to the plane, another man, with his head turned around as to disguise his visage, appears at the plane’s tail. Matt comes out to greet Kate letting her know that the wayward man is Alejandro (Benicio del Toro) – another unexpected surprise. The trio get on the plane and Alejandro asks Kate if she’s ever been to Juárez; the shoe fully drops and the pretenses dissipate as Kate realizes that the mission she’s signed up for is far more expansive than she could have imagined.
While the nature of where Sicario mysteries lead is fairly by the books, the way its cinematically rendered gives it a poignancy that elevates the film into something special. Screenwriter Taylor Sheridan’s script is propulsive and juggles multiple storylines, giving director Denis Villenevue the ability to flex his muscles and leave his mark of the genre. Instead of focusing on the mystery, Villenevue repeatedly turns the viewer’s attention to the dichotomy introduced at the film’s start by utilizing parallels in characters and groups to demonstrate the way the terms and the manner by which they’re used to categorize can rapidly shift .
There’s an implied distinction between between killing while oriented towards an ideal that stands for something greater than oneself and killing for the sake of something material, like wealth. The former position is one that’s idealistic and moves towards a vision of a “just” world. The latter is one that’s nihilistic and treats the world of winner-take-all. Or is that really the case? Are the two ideas separate or do they bleed into one another? Could one assassinate as an ideal or choose to assassinate in order to move towards an ideal? Villeneuve allows these questions to fester by taking the parallel’s Sheridan’s script sets up between the cartel and the US government, the Mexican police force and the American police force, and so on, and forces the viewer to play a horrifying game of compare and contrast.
One act of violence by one side is met by a seemingly equal atrocious act on the other. A “good” character postures and makes a comment on a “bad” character but then takes action that seems just as egregious. Villeneuve chooses to showcase the “immoral” bouts of violence in more explicit detail and withhold the brutality within the “ethical” instances of violence. He gives just enough information for the viewer to imagine how a scene would progress given both the context clues and the explicit parallels, forcing the audience to come to their own conclusions regarding the mechanics and ethics underpinning certain bouts of brutality. The subjective process of imagining the violence generates an uncomfortable proximity to the situation and forces us to deal with the contradictions in values.
This move also generates an empathetic connection with Kate who is thrust into the same world of twists, turns, and moments of depravity and forced to find stable footing in spite of it all. The first act sets up Kate as resourceful, honest, and passionate. She dodges a bullet, kills an assailant, takes control of her group, and wants to achieve justice – an ideal protagonist to root for. However, the moment she volunteers to achieve her ethical vision, she’s forced into a world where friend and foe mean very little, and the boundaries between what the “good” and “evil” are doing is suspect. Thus, an action of violence which may be immediately justified as necessary can be questioned because the viewer experiences it with Kate; she’s a moral barometer that lets us traverse the hazy backdrop the film plays against.
Sicario’s genre peers would usually feature a character like Alejandro or Matt as the lead – a burly man of mystery ready to whatever it takes to get the job done. However, the choice to have the lead be a highly capable woman with her morals intact in a sea of men and violence provides a vantage point that gives the otherwise gratuitous moments of sheer visceral terror a counterpoint that has heft. She’s not a damsel in distress, and she’s not some battle-hardened veteran looking for a fight; she’s just a competent soldier looking to do the right thing in circumstances that go against everything she’s been taught to accept. Blunt exemplifies this by constantly modulating between a soldier capable of holding her own and someone way out of their depth being racked by panic. She’s the perfect vehicle for both her character and the moral fiber of the film. By building up her competency and then slowly revealing its limits within a brutal, new environment, the film is able to push forward new ground on a story and make what would otherwise be cliché’s into uncomfortable moments to unpackage.
In fact, it’s because Kate is presented as competent in the context of what she’s signed up to do that otherwise passive scenes on her part are absolutely dread inducing. For example, as opposed to a conventional car chase scene with professionals chasing after one another, a traffic jam scene where assailants can be in any car and the protagonist is a fish out of water is much more dreadful. Because Kate is established as capable, the film is able to emphasize just how unforgiving the reality of the cartel violence and dealing with them can be; the rules of war don’t do anything in guerilla situations. Thus, her position gives impetus not only to the primary questions of the film but allow the visceral moments to have genuine stakes associated with them.
Put together with the parallel storylines and the near-perfect pacing of the narrative, Sicario certainly merits a comparison to the Coen brothers’ masterpiece, No Country For Old Men, a neo-Western following multiple characters who hunt and are being hunted by one another. Like No Country, Sicario presents a dark vision of an age without values, where the values of older days have seemingly faded away to the gusts of apathy and violence. While Sicario may not be as ambitious in terms of its narrative construction and direction, it certainly evokes a similar feeling of wandering through a foreign land where sense and reason have vacated the premises.
However, Sicario does match No Country when it comes to its visuals. Serving as director of photography on both films, Roger Deakins gives Villeneuve’s vision the room it needs to breath and fully take hold. Dust in the air, shadowy environments, and ever-present sources of reflection reveal the complexity inherent in seemingly straight-forward situations by introducing a visual opacity which accentuates the themes. Nothing is what it seems and it’s within the shadows cast by projections that the “truth” can be ascertained; there’s a space between words and the paradigms they operate within.
Consequently, this makes Sicario a must-see experience for any fan of cinema ranging from the casual fan looking for an exciting time to the cinephile looking for something heftier to sink their teeth into. While veterans of cartel thrillers might be less surprised by plot twists, the sheer culmination of skill including, but not limited to, Deakins camera work, the late Jóhann Jóhannsson’s adrenaline-pumping propulsive score, Blunt’s humanistic yet confident performance, and of course, Villeneuve’s brilliant ability to put all these elements together makes this an experience no one should miss. If nothing else, the final few moments of the film exemplify how dedication to craft can elevate even a small movement into a grand gesture.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Sicario is the rare movie that offers a totally engrossing time from start to finish across different types of moviegoers. With its propulsive narrative, fantastic acting, bloody and well-executed set-pieces, and its dark and foreboding score, the experience stays entertaining the whole time. However, it’s use of Emily Blunt in the role of the main character gives the movie a humanity and a vantage point that transforms it into a meditation on violence and the reality of the rule of law. It’s heady without being alienating and even more engaging as a result.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) sits in his car as his mother’s voice drones over.
Helen (Sarah Gadon) sits in the shadows, clearly pregnant.
The words “Chaos is order yet undeciphered,” shows up on the screen.
Anthony (Jake Gyllenhall) opens up the fantasy room/ room of fantasy.
Hordes of men watch women perform sex acts.
Anthony (Jake Gyllenhaal) puts 8 fingers around his face like a spider.
A woman disrobes and becomes nude in the background as Jake gets ready to watch her foreground.
A tarantula crawls out from a platter.
The mirror image of a nude woman walks around the spider.
A woman’s’ silhouette stands against the light.
The woman positions her heel over the spider in menacing fashion.
The opening of the movie sees a yellow, musty looking city haunted by foreboding strings. A young man, Adam, sits in his car dejectedly as a voicemail from his mother drones on and on. A pregnant woman shows up during this monologue – two seemingly different mothers but one is seen and one is shown. The words “Chaos is order yet undeciphered” show up on screen confirming that this pattern isn’t a coincidence. Another man who looks like Adam walks down a hallway and opens up a door to a fantasy room with women engaging in sexual acts. There’s a huge crowd of men eagerly watching. The showstopper event the women build towards is having one woman strip down and then threaten to crush a tarantula from underneath her heel.
The camera tracks left over a muddied yellow cityscape while composers Bensi and Jurrinan’s eerie and foreboding score plays; discordant strings turn into synth-like drones that get under the skin. A beep emerges; the voicemail message accompanying it feels less intrusion and more accompaniment to the score – the soundscape is unified in its discordant elements. A woman’s voice (Isabella Rossellini) can be heard. She talks to her son and thanks him for showing him her new apartment. She mentions concern over his living conditions and asks for him to call back while the camera cuts to Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal), her son, sitting in a musty car. His eyes reflected in the car’s rear-view mirror show an inertia – he looks unenthused and out of it. The mother’s words gain some power as her son’s disposition indicates a lack of vitality.
She tells him she loves him and the film cuts to a pregnant woman, Helen, who sits basked in a yellow haze of light and shadow. Another mother in response to the son. A pattern established, but what does it mean? The screen turns black as if in response and the following words appear on the screen in yellow font: “”Chaos is order yet undeciphered.” This is Enemy’s calling card; the story is a puzzle that entices the viewer to engage in dialogue. Patterns are present and meanings are given but their connections aren’t immediately apparent. Thus, order is only present for those willing to decipher – a great way to prime the viewer to not only pay attention but to stay invested to even the most minor of details.
The words fade into a black background out which a pair of hands appear in close view. We cut to a wider shot and see a man who looks like Adam but exudes a more confident presence along with another man walking down a dimly lit hallway where the yellow lights emit a sickly feeling in the area. This “potential” Adam[1]I use potential in quotes here because the nature of which character this is isn’t made definite and is certainly meant to be presented as up for interpretation at the start. For my full … Continue reading opens the door and enters the room as the unnerving score gets more intrusive and for good reason. It turns out that the characters have entered a dimly lit room filled with smoke and mirrors where hordes of men gather around women performing sexual acts. This mise-en-scène gives the setting a surreal feeling – the perverse room feels apart from a “normal” world. The women’s moans and squeals of enjoyment accentuate the unease generated by the score – the sounds of ecstasy take on the sign of omen as they become infected by the score.
Suddenly, two women adorned in a silky robes and long heels comes out and the crowd’s attention becomes focused. Their initial “holy” appearance, at least comparatively, and the way they command the energy of the room evokes the feeling of sacred ritual – the climax approaches. One of the women carries a covered tray which she places in the center of the room. Meanwhile the other one disrobes in the background as the “potential” Adam places his fingers over his face, almost as if trying to cover it, and leaves room only for his eyes to peer through – four fingers on each side of his face wrapping around from the bottom-up. The tray is picked up and a spider walks out from the center of it. However, as it tries to get away, it’s followed by the now fully disrobed women who follows it around the table. Her pursuit is shown via the reflection of the table – a mirror image.
Eventually she corners and stands menacingly over the creature, revealed only by her silhouette. She places her robe over the spider as if about to crush the creature while the room watches with baited breath. Is this what the men came to see? A nude woman threatening to kill a spider? A leg positioned over a creature possessing 8 legs? We cut back to the “potential” Adam in the same position as before. Now the 8 fingers reaching around his face form part of an inverted image: a spider made of hands reaching around the face in contrast to the feet reaching to the spider proper.
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) teaches about patterns.
“Webs” are present in the city’s architecture.
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) puts his hands on his face while grading.
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) is asked if he watches movies. He is turned away.
Mary (Mélanie Laurent) tries to get Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) to come to bed with her.
Mary(Mélanie Laurent) walks away from Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal).
Mary (Mélanie Laurent) and Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) are separated in the darkness of the apartment.
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) watches the movie.
Mary (Mélanie Laurent) is fast asleep as Adam watches the movie.
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) finishes the movie.
Adam tries to have sex with Mary but she rejects him.
Mary (Mélanie Laurent) tells Adam she’ll talk to him later.
Adam teaches his class about patterns of control and how dictatorships control societies. His life is a series of patterns and his city is filled with webs and lines – cable lines, telephone lines, and the like. His day to day life consists of going to work, coming back home, grading papers, and then going to bed with his girlfriend Mary. However, the pattern breaks when a coworker accosts Adam and recommends a movie for him to watch. The conversation with the co-worker and the the movie proper are both deviations from the pattern and mark the start of Enemy’s wild ride. Adam becomes so engrossed in the movie that he neglects Mary, causes her to leave, and pushes his journey in unknown trajectory.
We see a view of the city again before the film cuts to Adam teaching a college classroom. He starts his lecture on control by stating that: “Every dictatorship has one obsession. And that’s it. So, in Ancient Rome, they gave the people bread and circuses. They kept the populace busy with entertainment, but other dictatorships use other strategies to control ideas. How do they do that? Lower education. They limit culture. Censor information. They censor any means of individual expression. And it’s important to remember this, that this is a pattern that repeats itself throughout history. ” He finishes his lecture and the students leave.
He gets on a bus that traverses the city via cable transport that travels along lines that extend from building to building like a web of control. The spider’s influence is everywhere it seems. Adam gets into his disheveled looking apartment where he exists in lethargic state. His dissatisfaction is apparent as he expresses frustration in the movement of his hands while grading his students’ papers. He brings his hands up to his face as if to pray right as his girlfriend, Mary (Mélanie Laurent), shows up. She attempts to converse with him, but he refuses to answer. Instead, he focuses on just engaging in sex with her.
Then, the pattern repeats. He’s back in his classroom, giving the same lecture as above, gets on the web-linked train, grades papers at home, has sex with Mary and back to it again. He’s stuck in a loop that leaves him out of joint. Finally, the pattern breaks. As Adam sits in the teacher’s lounge, one of his co-workers asks him whether or not he goes to the movies and if he’s a “movie guy”. Adam indicates he doesn’t go out a lot and doesn’t like movies. This would also make sense given his lecture content – entertainment is a strategy used to control people so he stays away from it.
His coworker persists and mentions that one can watch a movie at home and that renting can work just as good as going out theatres. In response to this persistence, Adam requests a recommendation for something cheerful to which his coworker recommends Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way” The odd title initially strikes both us and Adam as a philosophical statement until he clarifies the flick is a local film which Adam should check out. Thus, the initial pattern is disrupted. A desire has presented itself within the inert world of Adam’s.
He comes back home after having rented the movie. As he dejectedly rests his head against his right palm, Mary appears and tries to coax him into coming to bed with her even mentioning how “drunk” she is. She plays with his face and tries to awaken something sensual in him but he’s unmoved. In one fluid movement, the camera tracks horizontally Mary as she leaves Adam alone, receding into the darkness and leaving the light on him. He finishes the last paper and opens up his laptop to start and finish the movie. Once again, the camera moves horizontally, demonstrating the passing of time and location. The movie is done and Mary is fast asleep. Adam gets up and looks perturbed, but tries to distract himself by having sex with sleeping Mary. He gets on top of her, but the time is passed and she’s no longer interested. She asks him to stop, gets out of bed, and changes. He asks what’s wrong and she lets him know she’ll call tomorrow. The pattern has now fully broken down and with it comes the first signs of horror.
A bellboy makes his way to help a guest.
The bellboy picks up the guests bag.
Another woman in the lobby who’s courting a man wearing a spider-web decorated tie gets agitated when she sees the guest walking.
The guest turns around to court a man and the bellboy is revealed to be Adam’s double (Jake Gyllenhaal)
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) wakes up after his disturbing dream.
Adam sees his laptop flickering as though possessed by something else.
Adam (Jake Gyllenhaal) re-winds the movie.
Adam finds the scene of his doppelgänger (Jake Gyllenhaal).
The nightmare sequence interrupts the movie just as jarringly for Adam as it does the viewer, coming into the fray with thunderous aplomb as the score booms. A woman with a black hat checks into a hotel and gets help from a young lobby boy wearing a hat. The boy picks up her bags and walks her through the hotel. Another woman wearing a yellow hat is courting a man with a web-patterned tie. She stares at the woman in the black hat as though scared of losing her suitor. However, the woman in the black hat continues on and eventually attracts another man. It’s at this point the lobby boy is revealed to be none other than Adam’s double. Adam wakes up in shock to go and confirm his fears. His laptop waits on his chair menacingly in the on position, as if telling him that the cat is now out of the bag. Adam re-watches the movie and confirms his worries.
The score becomes intimidating as it starts to pound as pattern of the film fully breaks down – now the screen has transported the viewer to within the Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way. This is Adam’s’ dream and his unconscious, now stirred out of the monotony of his “everyday”, presents the dream to move Adam.
A woman in a red dress and black hat stands at a hotel’s reception and is received by two staff without hats. One of the men calls a bell boy with a red hat to help the woman with her two bags. He retrieves two bags from the floor and follows the woman along. As the two walk, a group of men and women sitting close-by stare at the black-hatted woman. A woman wearing a yellow hat courting a man wearing a red-tie with a spider-web pattern on it is terrified at the presence of this woman in the black hat who continues to walk along. The bell boy and woman then run into another man with a hat, who takes his hat off, and then proceeds to talk with the woman. It’s at this point that bell boy’s face is finally revealed and the visage looks exactly like Adam sans a beard. The dream breaks – the realization has been made.
Adam wakes up in dread and slowly walks out of his bedroom to see his laptop, still on, waiting in his chair as if taunting him to peer closer. He picks up the computer and starts to fast forward, pause, and scan Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way for the disturbance he saw in his dream – the presence of his doppelgänger.
Fittingly, upon finding his “repetition”, he begins his next lecture on something new – Hegel. Adam explains that Hegel claimed that “the greatest world events happen twice” and then Karl Marx added that “the first time it was tragedy, and the second time it was a farce.” Taken together, the statements mean that the repetition of an original event, confirms it not merely as contingency but as necessary. In other words, it’s the instantiation of a pattern – chaos which becomes ordered through a repetition which confirms a “truth” established previously. If this is the case, then what patterns does Adam’s movie actor doppelgänger reveal about his patterns – his “truth”? Adam becomes obsessed with finding out precisely that and thus, Enemy can proceed with gusto.
With its doppelgänger set-up, surrealistic set-pieces, and expressed interest in acting as a puzzle to the viewer, it’s no surprise that Enemy falls in a line of films that includes the likes of: Persona, Fight Club, Lost Highway. Like these films, Enemy employs a dream-like logic in its construction to guide the viewer through a matrix of desire and fantasy in such fashion as to engender a desire in the viewer to delve deeper. For all the answers director Denis Villeneuve withholds, he never leaves the viewer feeling frustrated that only “nonsense” is occurring.
He does this by both employing segments of the film absent of Adam and his duplicate to help establish baselines that the audience can use to decipher what can or cannot be the case and also by priming the audience to pay attention to patterns, some easily discernible and others more hidden. Thus, Enemy becomes whatever the audience makes of it – it’s a game that constantly plays back giving the film and enigmatic pulse that gnaws at the viewers curiosity. There’s always another movement, another scene, another pattern waiting to be found to make sense of what came before. Consequently, the mysteries of the film feel solid enough to grasp, so the viewer can traverse strands of Enemy’s web even if they can’t see the web in its entirety.
Because Villeneuve meticulously stages the film in parallel movements, both within scenes and between them, there’s always a constant series of moving answers and questions. As new patterns are formed, new questions can be raised which opens previous and future scenes up to more nuanced interpretations. This is all purposeful, as evidenced by a scene that occurs midway in the film that quite literally represents a particular breakpoint in the film – it’s proof of the intention driving every one of the film’s decisions. Even if one can’t immediately notice each point and it’s counterpoint, it’s doppelgänger so to speak, they can certainly feel it in the structure of the film which reinforces and builds upon symbols and feelings at a subconscious level, priming the audience one way or another.
In particular, this parallel movement sets the viewer up for moments of genuine psychological fear. Patterns induce a level of comfort and the disruption of those patterns creates a level of anxiety. As evidenced by the intrusion of the film within the film, the seemingly random interruption of a “normal occurrence” jolts ones senses. Because the film clues the viewer to notice the patterns, the moments of deviations, the farces to come, are horrific.
Furthermore, the constant presence of the spider and its web in the mise-en-scène evokes the unease of the opening scene of sexual violence while creating webs of meaning between groupings of ideas. The music that accompanies it stays a constant force throughout the film, punctuating every moment with its anxiety inducing drone. There’s never a moment of respite as the senses are assaulted with an impending sense that something obscene is happening. In particular, Villenevue’s dedication to the sickly yellow lighting and color choice accentuates the feeling of misery the characters seem to be experiencing. The color lets the shadows of the dark “shine” through against the yellow, letting the feeling of the unknown pervade in moments of unease. The result is a psychological horror that uses its surrealistic base not just as a method of presenting unnerving images but as a method of probing the viewer’s unconsciousness to pick up on the undercurrents of terror lying just beneath the veneer of the apparent narrative. It’s precisely because of this that the ending of the film hits as hard and shocks as much as it does. It’s a finale that fully crystallizes the tensions and sense of unease that the film spends most of its run-time building, simultaneously tying the strands of the film together while disorienting the viewer.
At the heart of this disorienting feeling is Jake Gyllenhaal, who plays both Adam and his double within the film. Both characters occupy almost every scene, and their intermingling journey serves as the source of the narrative’s momentum. Having one actor play two characters is hard enough, but Villenevue’s story requires that the duo be similar enough to provoke the feeling of unease at the idea of a duplicate, but at the same time be different enough so that the viewer is easily able to identify which character is present in which scene. Jarring cuts which feature jumps between the characters would be wholly incomprehensible if not for Gyllenhaal’s ability to push the smallest subtleties in the characters’ dispositions to help the audience keep track of what storyline is headed in which direction. The genius of the performance lies not in just the distinctions, but the manner in which those performances give birth to even more performances – acts within acts as the two selves vie for control of the situation. Gyllenhaal has to walk a tight rope to let the nuances of Enemy settle and disturb and because he does so, in what I think is his career best performance, he lets the movie rise to its potential.
Currently, Enemy sports the lowest audience and critic scores on both Rotten Tomatoes [2]Denis Villeneuve. Rotten Tomatoes. (n.d.). Retrieved September 25, 2021, from https://www.rottentomatoes.com/celebrity/denis-villeneuve. and Metacritic [3]Denis Villeneuve. Metacritic. (n.d.). Retrieved September 25, 2021, from https://www.metacritic.com/person/denis-villeneuve.. This makes sense when comparing the film to his most popular outputs, Arrival and Sicario, which both feature energetic narratives where there’s a constant sense of propulsion driving everything towards a certain point. Enemy is very much the opposite, choosing instead to assault the audience with patterns whose boundaries bleed into and out of one another. Instead of presenting a straight-forward journey, Enemy presents a closed loop circling around a mystery it beckons the audience towards solving. Forthose viewers that prefer fully comprehensive narratives that need less discernment on their part, Villenevue’s surreal adventure might prove to be too frustrating an experience to find satisfaction in. However, those viewers looking for a cerebral experience should accept Enemy’s invitation to find order in chaos and take the plunge into the spider’s web of meaning.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Enemy is one part tense psychological horror and another part a puzzle challenging the viewer to put the pieces together. Fans of Villeneuve’s more straightforward ventures à la Sicario might be put off by the matrix of patterns that is Enemy, but those who enjoy his technical style and dedication to creating immersive worlds will definitely appreciate, if not love, this more opaque demonstration of his craft.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Chris Hemsworth as Thor Tom Hiddleston as Loki Anthony Hopkins as Odin Idris Elba as Heimdall Colm Feore as Laufey Natalie Portman as Jane Foster Stellan Skarsgård as Erik Selvig
Thor (Chris Hemsworth), God of Thunder and son of Odin (Anthony Perkins), is banished by his father and stripped of his mighty hammer Mjöllnir for having attempted an invasion of the Frost Giant’s home of Jotunheim in retaliation to the giant’s interruption of his own crowning ceremony. Now instead of being the next king, he is cast aside from his home of Asgard; his purpose is now lost and none of his friends are are able to stop Odin’s judgement. Heimdall (Idris Elba), both Thor’s friend and the guardian of the bifröst , a bridge capable of transporting anyone to any location, is forced to send the power God of thunder away. Thus, Thor is transported to the planet of Earth, where he immediately makes contact with Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), a young astrophysicist who had been following weather fluctuations, which unbeknownst to her had been tied to the use of bifröst.
The narrative is ambitious; on one hand it’s an attempt to tell the tale of Thor’s succession with epic familial stakes and on another hand it’s an attempt to meld the fantastical worlds present in the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe) with the scientific excursions demonstrated so far in Iron Manand The Incredible Hulkin order to create a bridge to more complex directions. Unfortunately, that ambition can’t make up for the film’s inability to meld the worlds of Asgard and the Earth off one another in a fluid and mutually beneficial manner. Instead of helping one another, the halves of the movie feel disjointed with another and often times feel like they’re intruding – like they belong in different films.
Establishing shot of Jane and company in Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.
Jane (Natalie Portman) hits Thor (Chris Hemsworth) with her car.
Odin gives a voiceover as the film cuts to Tonsberg,Norway.
The order of the opening sequence is an odd choice that demonstrates the key problem with Thor – it’s inability to meld the human and fantasy storylines in a cohesive and engaging manner.
For example, the start of the movie opens on Jane looking for signs of her phenomena. She gets evidence, gets excited, and then drives towards the event where she ends up hitting Thor with her car. She asks where he came from at which point the film cuts to a voice-over by Odin in 965 A.D. where he goes over and explains the history of mankind. The viewer stays with Odin and Asgard for close to 30 minutes before cutting back to Jane and her crash with Thor, which is treated as a comedic moment. The epic intensity and impact of Thor’s exile immediately becomes the butt of a joke and the rest of the story follows; moments of intensity in the Asgardian moments trade off with comedic, fish out of water human moments which makes it impossible for emotional resonance to take hold at any important moments. This dichotomy is most pronounced in Patrick Doyle’s score which flips from seemingly epic to screw-ball comedy whenever the Asgardian plot threads meet up with the human ones.
Alas, the pitiful characterization of anyone not named Thor and Loki (Tom Hiddleston) hardly helps; the hollow Asgardian and human entourages that are meant to be foils for one another and Thor’s allies only serve to waste screen-time that could have been better spent. That’s the key reason why Iron Man, which also starts with its hero in a low point before cutting back to how he got there, is able to get the audience invested in what’s to come; everyone’s relationship to Tony Stark is established and we get a good sense of who he is, why he is the way he is, and how the people close to him deal with his personality quirks. Thor on the other hand does nothing like this for its titular character. Thor’s closest friends get no development: it’s impossible to tell them apart from one another let alone how they matter to Thor. Likewise, how Thor came to be his pompous and belligerent self and managed to inspire so much faith from those around him is less so explained and more just asserted.
This lack of grounding makes Thor’s subsequent meeting with Jane and her allies less relevant. Instead of being able to serve as ways to humanize Thor and help him grow into a hero worthy of redemption, thereby combining the two halves of the story, they seemingly transport him to a whole other narrative instead. Instead of epic, we get a meet-cute that reduces Thor, the God of Thunder, to a walking set of goofy abs and transforms Jane, an scientist devoted to her research, to a woman smitten by schoolgirl love. It’s precisely because these two worlds don’t line up with each other thematically that the movie then has to waste additional time introducing a whole other villain and sub-plot to help Thor get from point A to point B.
Imagine if the opening of the film started with Odin’s monologue about the history of Asgard and the 9 realms. We could see Thor, the warriors Three (Ray Stevenson, Tadanobu Asano, Josh Dallas), Lady Sif(Jaimie Alexander), and Loki go around and engage in battles through the realms which would give director Kenneth Branagh an opportunity to distinguish the characters from one another. Thor’s headstrong and impulsive nature could be better established along with the nature of his relationships to his entourage. Each battle would require Heimdall to open the bifröst whose energy signature would be tracked by Jane. At these moments, the movie could have cut momentarily towards Jane trying to tie the nature of the events together becoming more and more fanatically attached to it.
This would make Thor and Jane’s collision with one another and their subsequent relationship would be more believable. Jane’s differences from his usual group would be pronounced and her enthusiasm in following him would stem not from his status as a hunk but rather as living proof of her research. Furthermore, many of the latter sequences of characters explaining their motivations could be removed because hopefully those details would be fleshed out in the opening Asgard section. As the film is now, these additional bits of exposition are needed to flesh out the stakes and move the story along. Removing them would make a leaner and more cohesive overall narrative.
Thor (Chris Hemsworth) is captured by Coulson’s men.
Heimdall (Idris Elba) sees Thor’s capture.
Heimdall (Idris Elba) sees all events occurring within the 9 realms.
Branagh uses this movement once and refers to it via the character’s dialogue multiple times. I wish he stuck more to showing and utilized Heimdall’s ability to piece together plot threads to move from the Asgardian to the Earth plotlines in thematic fashion. It would make for a more visually interesting story, establish Heimdall’s power, enable the “twist” in the story better by giving it more room to grow off screen in justifiable fashion, and potentially open up the ending to more wonderous possibilities. Instead, we just get teased with a one-of that barely scratches the surface.
Frustratingly, Branagh demonstrates that he’s more than capable of interweaving between the two storylines in neat movements when he wants, but he chooses not to when it would be opportune. Heimdall, given his role as watcher of the bridge, is shown to be able to pay attention to any event happening in the nine realms. As such, certain scenes reveal that Heimdall is actually seeing them which helps the movie switch from Asgard to human and back with each. However, Branagh rarely uses the Heimdall transition technique. Instead, of utilizing the gatekeeper as a way to swap between parallel plot techniques and introduce a common visual motif, the movie is more than satisfied mentioning and using Heimdall’s skill a few times and then dropping it.
Jane (Natalie Portman) looks at the space phenomena.
Odin (Anthony Hopkins) looks at Laufey.
Selvig ( Stellan Skarsgård ) talks to Coulson.
As a horror fan, I love canted angles, but even within horror they have an established purpose to make them feel more important. Thor lacks that purpose and tosses in canted angles in every type of shot whether it be Odin engaging in war or Professor Selvig talking to Agent Coulson. This is one of the many visual issues with the film that rob its grandiose moments of the impact they would need to feel lasting.
This inconsistency in use extends to all the visual flourishes on display. At one moment Branagh will have the camera swoop from the top of Asgard to the bottom in one fluid moment, while at other moments he’ll just cut without abandon to showcase character reactions. Like previously mentioned, canted angles are on full display from start to finish. However, the choice of which scenes are shot with the tilted angles seems completely at random, rendering their selection confusing. Multiple moments will feature the change in angle and a switch back to normal for no other reason than someone fancied them. Consequently, the discord from the visual and audio swaps makes the incongruity between the Asgardian and human storylines all the more palpable. It’s all one big jumbling mess.
Therefore, while Thor isn’t quite the wreckage The Incredible Hulk is, it’s a far cry from the precise and slicked out Iron Man. It provides a plot that has points that are competently expected on their own, but it never once provides the momentum or composition capable of letting those points build off and complement one another. The end result is a grab-bag of decent points swimming around a pool of mainly bland and unmemorable scenes that teases a great film filled with familiar drama and romance but rarely delivers anywhere close on its potential.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Thor is a series of interesting ideas that fail to meld into a story that can sustain interest for longer than single scenes. The script gives the actors few moments to sell the gravitas of what’s happening – a feeling which is further undermined by the film’s own inability in determining whether or not it wants to be a serious epic of a cutesy rom-com. The end result is a film that lacks any staying power after the fact.
Rating
5.9/10
Grade
D+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
It’s hard to believe that a storyline involving a psychic monster capable of brutally murdering scientists, inept help from the relevant authorities, a woman who has psychic visions of a black-robed murderer who contorts and viciously slices apart its victims, and meticulously crafted murder set pieces is the basis of a James Wan horror movie when it feels like something plucked out of Dario Argento’s giallo playbook, in particular his fever dream film, Phenomena. In other words, the movie is a showcase of spectacle; the point is not the narrative but the audio-visual journey. Extravagance matters more than plot, which functions more as a vehicle for Wan to canvas off of. He’s always been a stylistic director, but Malignant showcases the height of his visual prowess; it’s an absolute treat to behold.
The movie starts with a small taste of things to come as the walls of a institutional facility are drenched with blood. Dr. Florence Weaver (Jacqueline McKenzie) escorts a group, which includes an officer with a gun, towards a room where people are flung out with bloody aplomb. She instructs them to shoot the patient, Gabriel, who is causing all the issues. The group suffers heavy casualties, but the nature of Gabriel along with his powers is left to the viewer’s imagination as the film cuts to twenty-eight years later.
A woman, Madison (Annabelle Wallis ), argues with her husband, Derek (Jake Abel) over the nature of her pregnancies, which seem to always terminate in miscarriages. He viciously attacks her for inability to conceive and beats her against the wall, causing the back of her head to bleed. Madison locks the door to keep safe from her husband, but then nighttime comes and a shadowy assassin makes its presence known. Its form is just a shadow creeping, and Wan teases the audience slowly with its presence before letting the violence continue; the husband is stabbed with no hesitation before Madison herself is thrown on the floor.
She wakes up at the hospital where she reunites with her sister, Sydney (Maddie Hasson). We learn that the siblings haven’t had contact with one another due to Derek’s controlling nature; he stopped Madison from reaching out. Thus, the black-coated figures first kill marks the end of the estrangement between Madison and her sibling and the start of her journey to move past and overcome her trauma at the hands of abuse.
However, later at night, Madison realizes that after this attack she’s now linked to the black-coated figure and can see the murders committed by the figure as they’re happening. These psychic drop-ins, which feel like the pensieve from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, feature the walls around our protagonist dissolving and reforming around her. Within crisp and fluid shots, Madison is transported from wherever she is to the scene of the next assault. Desperate to figure out the reason for this connection, she tasks Detectives Shaw (George Young) and Moss (Michole Briana White) along with Sydney in an race against time before the killer is allowed to strike again.
Wan said he wanted Malignant to be his take on giallo and the film more than delivers a set-up let lets him have fun. [1]Navarro, M. (2021, September 1). “My version OF GIALLO”: James wan lets us know what to expect from his new horror Movie ‘Malignant’ [Interview]. Bloody Disgusting! Retrieved … Continue readingThere’s a mysterious killer in possession of a distinctive weapon, brutal murders, a race to figure out the identity of the murderer, and law enforcement characters who are meant to help but who actively inhibit the protagonist while bumbling around. However, penchant of any great gialli, like the ones made by Argento and Bava, is to structure the violence with great care around fluid and dramatic camera moves which transform the macabre into the sensational. Malignant nails all of this and more. The plot moves along at a pace that keeps the audience invested until a reveal 30 minutes before the ending which then ratchets the film into an utterly enthralling cinematic experience that any fan of sensual cinema should watch. It’s entirely unpredictable; even if you guess one element of the way events will unfold, the entirety of the combined threads is something that can only be described as Shymalanesque in the best possible way.
Wan, who has always been stylistically talented, is allowed to push the boundaries on his own patterns. While the movie starts slow with some of his trademark sequences, like a tense overhead tracking shot which follows the characters as they navigate a household à la The Conjuringand The Conjuring 2, it really starts to show its hand once Madison is allowed to “dissolve” into the psychic visions that she’s made to see. The transitions are as evocative as the murders which follow and serve a purpose in delineating the contours of Madison’s psyche. As the film continues and Madison is allowed to explore the connection, its visualization changes in ways to reflect the same.
However, what pushes Malignant over the edge is the vitality and fury by which Wan shoots some of the larger set-pieces, moments which blow out scenes from even movies, including even Wan’s own Aquaman. The camera is an assassin and follows the path of blood and carnage with surgical precession. Every blow is brutal. Every slice is sinister. Every moment is an extension of the dance of the fabulous blood-bath. He lets the impact of the ferocity sit with the audience as the frame sticks on the murders unbroken. There may be a lot of the stereotypical horror movie teasing with the slow set-ups and the disappearing shadows, but the pay-off is bloody, excessive, beautiful, and utterly worth every moment in wait – a carnivalesque celebration of blood and splatter.
The supernatural slasher often takes place in rooms lit by rich reds and glowing greens along with rooms dyed in shades of dark blue and pockets of darkness. Often times, the camera glides from one room to another, swinging between colors in a way to accentuate the visual momentum of the spectacle occurring. Even though some of the needle drop moments feel like they could have been timed to synch up with the emotional intensity of the film a bit better, most of Joseph Bishara’s electric score fulfills what it sets out to do – provide a companion to the visuals that can match their energy. Many of the tracks inject a head-bobbing energy that add a fiery intensity to the scenes. The combination of both elements creates dynamite film-making that serves as proof that some things have to be seen on the big screen to be experienced in their full glory.
While there are some plot issues here and there, the muscular film-making put on display by Wan is more than worth witnessing for fans of the genre and for those people looking for a off-the-walls story to have fun with. It’s more than just stylistic homage. Malignant is a celebration of sheer and utter excess in the best of ways. It’s the best of Wan’s artillery amplified to the next level – truly bravura filmmaking.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Since his horror debut with Saw, Wan has put out some of the most well-loved horror classics. Insidious galvanized a new-age of horror fans and The Conjuring confirmed that his arrival was no fluke. Malignant is a confirmation of the director’s potential and showcases some of the highest highs in his oeuvre as of yet.
Rating
9.0/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Edward Norton as Bruce Banner/The Hulk (Voice by Lou Ferrigno) Liv Tyler as Betty Ross William Hurt as General Ross Tim Roth as Emil Blonsky / Abomination
Bruce Banner (Edward Norton) tests his Gamma treatment on himself. Bruce transforms into the Hulk. He sees Betty (Liv Tyler) through the windows. The Hulk beats Betty (Liv Tyler) viciously, giving her serious injuries. Bruce (Edward Norton) touches Betty (Liv Tyler) tenderly. Bruce flashes back to fonder times with Betty (Liv Tyler).General Ross (William Hurt) looks at maps to locate Banner. Confidential information from Stark Industries is displayed. A metronome is shown. The camera pushes in on Betty (Liv Tyler) in her hospital bed. This montage qua vision fades as Bruce( Edward Norton) stops the metronome. Bruce (Edward Norton) has a count of the number of days between his incidents next to him. The opening montage is an narrative mess that informs the audience of very little if they don’t have context already on top of being a formal mess in the way it presents the sequence. The start of the sequence with the color tinting and longing shots of Betty would suggest that this is Bruce’s fragmented memory post incident, but shots of maps, General Ross, and confidential documents show up partway through. None of these elements are items that Bruce should be privy, so their inclusion makes it seem as though the montage is just a non-diegetic summation for the audience that has nothing to do with Bruce’s perspective. This confusion is exacerbated as the sequence ends with a push in on Betty which transforms into the ringing of the metronome that Bruce reaches out to push. It seems certain that this was his vision, but the confusion in form makes the rest of the movie harder to evaluate as a result. Case in point, the count next to him loses a lot of potential as a storytelling barometer and a way of getting the inside track of Bruce’s psyche. Instead, it just exists as a way to give the audience random updates.
The movie starts with a montage set to Craig Armstrong’s epic and triumphant score which almost tricks the viewer into thinking that the title sequence is doing something special. In reality, the 3-minute introduction sequence is a formal nightmare and makes the themes and ideas of the story hard to decipher at first. Instead of setting the film’s pace and giving it a unique voice, the introduction feels like a cheap way of getting to the “real” story.
First, the initial images of the montage make it feel like this recollection of memories is from Bruce Banner’s (Edward Norton) fragmented point-of-view. As such, the repetition of certain key scenes – namely Bruce’s partner, Betty (Liv Tyler) being injured after he transformed into the Hulk – should suggest Bruce’s pre-occupation. The scenes are even tinted in green suggesting they might be an effect of the Hulk’s influence on Banner’s brain.
However, at the halfway point of the introduction, scenes that are clearly not from Bruce’s point-of-view enter. For example, General Ross is seen looking for Bruce at one point and maps along with relevant documentation prop up on the screen to reinforce that Bruce is being hunted. Given that he’s on the run, it seems impossible that he’d be privy to this information which begs the question: why are these moments in the montage?
One could chalk it up to just quick storytelling, but the sequence ends in such a way as if to suggest that it is in fact Banner recalling his past. The montage ends as the camera pushes in on Betty’s injury before suddenly cutting to a metronome, an item featured in the montage intermittently at random moments, which Banner grabs and stops. He sits center frame and then a counter appears next to him indicating it’s been 158 days since his last “incident.” Is this counter his mental barometer now perhaps because days to him only exist if he’s not the Hulk or is it a mechanism of the movie to inform the audience of the time between transformations? Because of the sloppy nature of the montage, this determination is impossible make.
The second issue with the introduction is also an issue I expect a few readers to run into: the characters and events depicted in the montage require prior context to have any chance of being relevant to the viewer. Given that Ang Lee’s Hulk came out in 2003, it’s reasonable that Marvel and screen-writer Zak Pen wanted to avoid re-hashing the origin story and chose to truncate it; the issue is the emotional core of the story being told in The Incredible Hulk is contingent on understanding the Hulk’s origin. This issue is even more pronounced because even though The Incredible Hulk could work as a spiritual sequel to Lee’s film, there are enough differences in how Bruce gets and relates to his “Hulk” power that would justify time spent explaining the nuance to the audience.
It’s especially confusing how this movie got approved given how clear Iron Man, the first installment of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) , ended up being for audiences unfamiliar with the character. Coming right off the heels of one of the best super-hero movies was always going to be rough, but The Incredible Hulk doesn’t make the situation any easier for itself. The issue with the film isn’t even just the botched origin story. Unlike Marvel’s reboot of Spiderman in the form of Homecoming, which truncated the origin story which had been told twice before in the 21st century, The Incredible Hulk doesn’t try and tell a story that can ride its own coattails and get the audience invested with or without previous interest.
Betty (Liv Tyler) and Bruce (Edward Norton) reunite in the rain. Bruce (Edward Norton) laughs about putting on large purple pants that Betty (Liv Tyler) tries to get him to wear. Betty (Liv Tyler) and Bruce (Edward Norton ) argue about todo with a medal that belongs to a “her” that’s never specified. Even though it should be one of the driving forces of the film, Betty and Bruce’s relationship is anything but electric. Their scenes feature nothing but quips, meaningless banter, or references to events alluded to in the flashback montage at the start of the film that are never shown. Even after watching the film, I could not tell you why either character was in love with the other, the nature of what their relationship dynamic used to be, or why they were so willing to get back together after years of separation (especially in Betty’s case) . The movie constantly tells the audience that the couple is in love, but the duo never acts or moves in a way that suggests any real chemistry. This becomes a problem when the movie so obviously wants to rest its emotional heft on this thread and spends the screen-time on the couple that would be capable of achieving the same if done more rigorously.
For example, one of the primary driving forces behind Banner’s desire to control his Hulk state is his desire to eventually get back with Betty. This motivation is his primary purpose for any and all action within the story, outside of some vague ethical concerns about his research which are never explained. The movie tells us as much with the montage which features a moment where Banner flashbacks within the sequence qua memory recall to an even more intimate encounter with her.
Yet, when the couple finally get to talking and meeting with one another there’s absolutely no chemistry between them. Their conversations devolve to quips, useless chitter-chatter, and verbal reminders that they love each other. They’re seeing each for the first time in years and the director and screenwriter can’t think of any possible things they would want to mention to one another again? It feels more like they’re acquaintances running into one another than lovers who have been forcibly separated for years on end. The golden rule is to show and not tell, and The Incredible Hulk never shows; instead, it prefers to reiterate what was shown in the montage and use the shallow scaffolding created off those minute impressions to leverage interest in where the story goes. The couple loves each other because they love each other. The push just doesn’t work and the emotions are missing which makes caring during any of the tense sequences that much harder.
Just to give context, within 15 minutes Iron Man manages to explain its protagonist’s, Tony Stark’s motivations, relationships with key persons in the movie, primary character arc, and foreshadow the eventual final battle. In that same time frame, The Incredibly Hulk explains that Bruce has been trying to figure out to control his anger since his incident, that he thinks about Betty a lot, and then just gets to the first chase sequence in a series of many. Even by the end of the movie’s run-time, the amount of information learned doesn’t actually increase by a meaningful margin. The plot is nothing more than a vehicle to get Banner from point A to point B in the hopes for a Hulk transformation and fight.
The Hulk looks menacingly from the shadows. The Hulk looks agitated as the flames go off behind him and the water pelts. down. The Hulk sits with Betty (Liv Tyler) and is barely noticable from the background rocks. Despite showing visually arresting close-ups of the Hulk that emphasize his dangerous nature and dual personality in relation to Banner, the movie never manages to nail a fantastic long Hulk scene. The psychological divide between the angry, malicious looking Hulk and the calm and timid banner is never explored in the transformation or discussion of the phenomenon. The action and drama set-pieces that feature the Hulk often fail because the color contrast in them de-emphasizes the importance and presence of the Hulk. For example. when the Hulk is watching over Betty on the mountain ranges, he blends in with the rocks surrounding him. Even though the camera spends time on the duo, the image itself leaves very little impact.
Now, this approach would work if they either showcased the Hulk in such a way as to develop Bruce’s character and dynamic or, in a more visceral sense, just let their CGI monster go wild in dynamic action set pieces. Instead, Banner’s transformations are always marred by some other visual distraction and/or a color grading that makes it hard to distinguish his figure. He’s on the screen but doesn’t pop out and get to actually show off. Banner makes fun of the iconic purple pants his character normally wears in a meta-comedy moment, but the reason purple is a great color with the Hulk is because it lets his green shine.
This is made all the more frustrating because it’s clear that Leterrier wanted to go for a green aesthetic. Plenty of shots feature green in the set design; the issue is these greens make the contrast between Hulk and the environment even worse and end up crowding the hulking green mammoth out of the frames he should be a star in. There are a few moments where the camera lingers on a Hulk’s face in a close-up and we get to see beautiful contrasts in his face and a rich texture in the colors. Unfortunately, these moments are few and far in between; the movie usually showcases its showstopper poorly.
Thankfully, the movie spends a decent amount of time on developing Emil Blonsky(Tim Roth). We get to know him as a veteran player who takes the mission seriously and early conversations even set him as the soldier to Banner’s scientist. While the movie does very little with Banner’s scientist storyline, choosing both not to investigate why he would test the “Hulk experiment” on himself or what he wanted, it does go deeper into Blonsky’s motivations and ties his eventual transformations to his character’s’ motivations. It doesn’t matter that the character is shallow; Roth is so amped up about being cruel, militaristic, and bloodthirsty beyond reason that we can get behind his character. Woefully, the movie throws away this saving grace in the third act by replacing Roth with a CGI creature; one less performance capable of galvanizing interest in the fights to come.
Banner clicks on a simple Desktop application. He gets to a remote chat login screen where he puts in in no info. His message is automatically encrypted. The solution implemented to catch Banner is so simple that it reinforces just how lazy the messaging system was treated. One of the largest culprits of lazy storytelling comes from the way Banner communicates with Mr. Blue. It’s shown that he’s sending encrypted messages and is a sleuth who can avoid detection. However, his process of security and encryption is non-existent. He’s using the defaults on a machine that has a miracle software attached to it. The design of the application raises questions on how the government didn’t easily figure out what was happening. They easily demonstrate they can parse through every message and find a location, but we’re somehow expected to believe they couldn’t find a single mention of any issue over years of parsing that would lead back to Banner?
It’s not that the story doesn’t have interesting characters or that it can’t go towards more interesting storylines. It’s just that every story decision feels like the easiest path towards the next plot beat. Case in point, Banner communicates with a secret contact to find a cure to the “Hulk” problem. The way he gets to the contact platform is literally through clicking an application, getting to a chat screen with no place to put in long in information, and then “auto-encrypting” the chat. I don’t expect a complicated encryption process, but I expect the process to be at least be complicated enough for me to believe that the antagonists cannot easily access this information.
However, in this film, the government’s crack-job solution to the messaging platform that Banner has used for apparent YEARS is to put a simple parser out to search for the code names the two are using and then coming upon the duo almost instantly. If the introductory montage didn’t stress that Banner has been sleuthing around the government for years and that the government has been actively pursuing him as per Ross’s command, the laziness wouldn’t be so apparent. Unfortunately, this example of blatantly “rushing” towards the next plot point is one of many. A few can be handled. A litany makes for an unremarkable time. The end result is a skeleton of a espionage movie that never tries to surprise the audience.
Frustratingly, the movie has all the parts necessary to do something intriguing, but it constantly chooses to underutilize them in an attempt to deliver a product that’s “good enough.” It’s a shame because a few tweaks and the movie could have been a psychological navigation of the “Hulk” condition. The opening montage is an attempt at showing how the experiment has fractured Banner’s mind. Imagine if the movie then followed Banner as he tries to figure out a way to control it as opposed to trying to get some mumbo-jumbo cure that acts as nothing more than a MacGuffin. Additionally, the cutaways to distorted green visions, if handled with regards to Banner and the Hulk’s character arcs, could be moments of progression between them. Instead, they’re just quick visuals meant to demonstrate the presence of Banner’s condition – a fact we are well aware of.
Needless to say, the psychological angle was ready and available to dive into, even within the parameters of the script. Some of the movie’s best scenes involve the Hulk showcasing a darker, and more evil disposition. Close-ups of his face showcase an intensity that’s missing from Norton’s face. The movie could have very easily used this juxtaposition to explore even the simplest ideas of good and bad if not something more complex like the Hulk as representative of id and Banner as ego. Furthermore, the movie attempts to use fragmented green-tinted memory recollection sequences as a call-back to the opening montage and as an indication of Banner’s damaged mental state. However, just like the opening, these moments showcase images and details that tells the viewer absolutely nothing of relevance regarding Bruce’s connections or motivations. At the very least, if they presented a warped perspective of scenes, an altered perspective to Bruce’s, these moments could help develop Hulk as a character and juxtapose both sides of the green hero. Instead, the technique is used to just reinforce the same points we already know.
Sadly, there’s a severe lack of effort made at letting the characters and the actors shine through. It’s hard to blame Norton for not getting the audience invested in his character, when all he has to work with are jokes and long chase and walk sequences that are adorned with Armstrong’s rich and emotionally evocative score.
The film tries so hard to use the score to carry the weight of longer A-to-B sections, but Suspiria this movie is not; The Incredible Hulk lacks the grandiose compositions, cinematography, and editing needed to let Armstrong’s music be appreciated. The visuals are safe and milquetoast and drag down the rich and riveting score which is is never given any time to rest because any dead time has to be filled with it. Music is used used to propel all the emotional momentum in the film because the story proper doesn’t give the actors enough material to imbue their characters with passions that would get us to care about their tribulations. The score attempts to generate that momentum, but the lack of any help from any other cinematic element makes the mission impossible.
Alas, this is why The Incredible Hulk marks the low-point of the MCU. It’s a film that feels and actively shows its status as nothing more than a cog in the machine. There’s no flair in it’s presentation or composition which end up making the hollow and threadbare story look all the more lazy and shoddy when on display. The actors are given such little direction on what their characters motivations are or why those desires are they way the are and this lack of guidance carries over to the narrative which often feels like its being forcefully dragged from place to place. There are brief moments of joy, especially when the Hulk is allowed to be the star of the scene, but these moments are so brief that can’t be used to justify watching the entire movie. It’s a shame for fans of the green behemoth, but you’re better off watching later MCU installments ,Thor Ragnarok especially, or even Lee’s older Hulk for nuanced and/or visually interesting story beats.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Incredible Hulk is a movie that exists more to push the MCU along than anything else. Outside of Craig Armstrong’s score and a few neat shots, this chronicle of the green behemoth offers very little in terms of engaging content capable. The story is predictable, lazily told, and emotionally empty. Instead of focusing on the interesting psychological angles presented by the narrative, the movie is more than satisfied with giving just enough information to move to the next point until the whole journey is over.
Only MCU completionists or super fans of the Hulk should give this a watch.
Rating
4.3
Grade
F
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Ellen Burstyn as Chris MacNeil Linda Blair as Regan MacNeil Jason Miller as Father/Dr. Damien Karras Max von Sydow as Father Merrin Lee J. Cobb as Lieutenant Kinderman
Release Date
1973
Language(s)
English
Running Time
121 minutes
The title card comes in a deep red font surrounded by black. A black-and-white perspective on the sun rising. The fantasy fades and the hues of the sun overpower the frame.The opening sequence of The Exorcist marks the end of simplistic worldviews; order is broken and the world isn’t a clear cut black-and-white image anymore. The battle begins with a hellish intensity that must be overcome.
The film opens with a bright red title card as the Islamic call to prayer is heard in the background. A grayscale image of a desert is shown before its burning red, orange, and yellow hues dominate the screen. The simplicity of the black-and-white image gives way to a hellish haze that burns the natural environment around it. The world isn’t black-and-white and the battle between good and evil has begun.
Animals walk in the haze of the desert. People dig at a site. Location card indicates we’re in Northern Iraq. Father Merrin (Alex von Sydow) is framed between the legs of a young boy looking up. A series of establishing shots let us know we’re in a desert on a dig site somewhere in Northern Iraq. Despite being shot like a documentary, the establishing shots culminate in a picturesque frame where Father Merrin is trapped in between the legs of a young boy. It’s a sign of strenuous things to come, where he’ll be be starting at a lower vantage point.
We see a series of establishing shots – animals walking through a haze and workers digging up a site – before a location card shows up informing us that we’re in Northern Iraq. The presentation makes us feel like we’re watching a documentary. Eventually the camera comes upon and follows a young boy at the site who runs through the grounds. He stops and we see the subject of his search, an older archaeologist and priest named Father Merrin (Max von Sydow), positioned between his legs looking up. The child informs the priest that that something of interest has been dug up.
Despite the fact that the compositions and camera movements are done in a naturalistic, unassuming manner, director William Friedkin is still able to fill the film with evocative frames like this one to set up the narrative. Merrin is trapped by the child and the announcement. He looks up from a lower position suggesting that what’s to come will be a struggle for him, one in which he will be lowered. The fact that the one giving him the message and demarcating him is a child is not a coincidence; it’s just one small demonstration of one The Exorcist’s major strengths: the ability to portray events in documentary like fashion while retaining full control on what each frame entails in a thematic sense. This is how Friedkin transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) finds the Medal of St.Joseph.Merrin (Max von Sydow) finds a sculpture of Pazuzu’s head. A lone bird flies through the sun covered frame. Merrin’s (Max von Sydow) hands tremble as he takes his medication. Merrin (Max von Sydow) sees a blacksmith tending to burning fire. The blacksmith looks at Merrin. One of his eyes is clouded in shades of gray.Father Merrin finds both a medal of St.Joseph and a sculpt of Pazuzu’s’, a demon-God, head. This double finding of a sign of good luck and a sign of bad luck will be repeated as a motif throughout the film. After finding both items, we see the sun dominate the frame for a split second as a bird flies through the frame – this creature will show up later. The experience disgruntles Merrin so much that even a simple encounter with a blacksmith becomes elevated.
Merrin walks through the desert towards the location of the aforementioned discovery and finds a medal of St.Joseph. The medal is out of place in the environment, both geographically and chronologically, calling to question how and why it’s present in the area. The film even calls attention to the discrepancy by having the characters mention that such an artifact doesn’t belong in the area. After puzzling over the medal, Merrin starts to dig and comes upon a sculpting. The sound of the wind gets stronger as he brushes the dust off the figure revealing it to be a statue of Pazuzu. [1] While Pazuzu is never mentioned explicitly, it’s clear from the material and discussion on the film that the figure is of Pazuzu. As he stares at the ominous looking head, the sound of buzzing flies becomes more intense.
Once again, the hellish haze of the sun takes control of the screen; this time its presence is brief while it burns not just the desert like before but also a large building in the background; the flames have made their way to civilization. A single bird flies through the frame; the conflict has started to move. The scene dissipates and we cut back to Merrin sitting in a crowded area. It’s clear he’s perturbed by his encounter with Pazuzu as his hands tremble fumbling with his medicine. From the way his eyes glaze out, we know he’s not taking in any of his surroundings; his mind is focused entirely on the presence of malevolence. He gets up and walks through the city before coming upon a blacksmith. The intensity of the flames from their work feels off-putting as they remind us of the intensity of the sun. A simple encounter becomes nefarious as our mind puts the visual cues together; a sub-conscious fear is being laid out.
Insert shot of the clock’s chime. Insert shot of the clock.Insert shot of a recovered statue head. Merrin (Max von Sydow) catalogues his finding. Merrin (Max von Sydow) picks up the Medal of St.Joseph. The clock goes on behind him. Merrin (Max von Sydow) looks at the Medal of St. Joseph. Merrin (Max von Sydow) looks at the head of Pazuzu while being informed it’s a ward against evil. Merrin (Max von Sydow) notices the clock behind him has stopped. Friedkin hides subliminal clues in this establishing montage; seemingly benign insert shots become triggers for a scare in the making. By clueing us in to look at the clocks, not from one but two separate angles, Friedkin manages to get our subconscious hyper-focsed on the clock. This is why it stopping hits as hard. The fact that it happens after a repetition of the double finding motif – Merrin touches both the medal and statue again – helps both techniques reinforce one another. This is how the film weaves psychic chains.
We see another set of establishing shots – a clock chime, a clock head, recovered statues – before revealing Merrin documenting his dig findings. He picks up the medal and looks at it for a brief moment before picking up the head. Another worker in the building notes that the head is a figure of “Evil against Evil.” This mention is not without purpose; Pazuzu is both a demon associated with the evils of the air and a God invoked by people to protect against other more malicious forces. [2]Near eastern antiquities : Mesopotamia. Statuette of the demon Pazuzu with an inscription – Near Eastern Antiquities | Louvre Museum. (n.d.). … Continue reading Thus, we have a symbol of God from a different area juxtaposed against the symbol of a God-Demon from a more local culture being discovered by a Father who is deadly terrified of the latter.
Immediately, the clock behind Merrin stops and our anxieties rise along with him. Because Friedkin disguised the clock parts as part of the establishing shot, our minds were primed to pay attention to the clock without being immediately aware of it. This makes its eventual stoppage more effective because it’s something we’re already thinking about. Friedkin shows us the clock multiple times in a non-innocuous manner, so he conditions us even further to recognize its disparity as off-putting. Combining this with the juxtaposition of the findings amplifies our unease, transforming a small clock pause into a moment of utter panic.
Merrin (Max von Sydow) walks past a group of Muslims praying. A woman looks down at Merrin from above. Merrin (Max von Sydow) walks past two women who are veiled. Merrin (Max von Sydow) is almost hit by a carriage. Even though nothing should be going wrong, we’re primed for the worst to happen. Every point of God is met with a counter-point of bad luck, so after Merrin walks past Muslims praying, we’re expecting something go awry. He walks past a woman looking down on him, just like the child did earlier, which starts the trepidation. After he walks past two women, we’re not even surprised that he’s almost run over. The film constantly generates expectations because of how it repeats itself.
Merrin leaves the establishment as a group of Muslims start to pray – a callback to the call for prayer at the start of the film. Despite being a man of faith, he makes no notice of the group and walks past them. It’s a continuation of the juxtaposition between the figures; orientations towards religions constantly mix and swap in this battle for and of faith. While the anxiety ridden priest makes his way around a corner, the camera cuts to a woman who seems him from up above looking down. The shot itself is nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s inclusion in an already tense movement makes us scared for the elderly priest. The last time someone was looking down on him, the child giving the announcement, he was met with a dark presence.
We cut from the women back down to Merrin who stares down at the ground as he walks past two women. Within seconds of passing them, he is almost ran over by a carriage which approaches from a darkened tunnel. Is this Pazuzu or is it just Merrin’s pre-occupation?
Merrin (Max von Sydow) looks up as a shadow comes over him and a gust of wind threatens to blow off his hat. A statue of Pazuzu is revealed to be above, with the burning sun behind it. Pazuzu and Merrin (Max von Sydow) stare off. A man is revealed to be behind Merrin. Dogs fight in the desert. The camera zooms in on Pazuzu. Pazuzu and Merrin (Max von Sydow) are engaged in battle. Pazuzu and Merrin’s (Max von Sydow) battle dissolves into the red heat of the sun. The heat of the sun covers everything. The heat of the sun dissolves into the cool looking cityscape. The city is revealed to be Georgetown. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) hears some animal noises and goes to investigate. A black-and-white image of her daughter is positioned next to her bed. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) puts on an orange robe and goes to investigate the source of the noise. Regan (Linda Blair) wears yellow pajamas. The window to Regan’s room is open and a gust comes in. The confrontation between Merrin and Pazuzu sets the stage for everything to come and marks one of the greatest movie introductions. The wind and sound of animals are established to be antagonistic forces as their presence makes way while Merrin realizes he’s being stared down on by Pazuzu. Merrin has been set lower by the boy, woman above, and now finally, the demon-God before him. We already know the battle will be brutal. A man behind Merrin reminds us that the entity of Pazuzu is not one of pure evil; Merrin is reacting strongly but a local doesn’t move. The film is establishing sources of ambiguity.
At the same time, the battle dissolves into the harsh sun, tying the battle between Merrin and Pazuzu to the universal breaking of black-and-white morals. This further dissolves into Georgetown, which is bathed in a cool blue. The battle has changed locations.
As Chris moves from her black-and-white photograph of Reagan to Reagan herself, we notice that the mother-daughter duo pair are wearing the colors of the sun. Another movement of black-and-white breaking to the intensity of the solar spectrum. At the same time, the gusts of wind break through Reagan’s window. Another repetition.
An answer is given. Merrin walks down to the dig site and a gust of wind blows threatening to take his hat off. His face is cast in shadows as he looks up. The camera cuts to a statue of Pazuzu looking down upon him, the blinding hot sun appearing right behind the figure. Finally, the confrontation has come to a head. The sounds of dogs fighting and the gusts of wind rage over the soundscape as the two combatants take their stances. The two figures stand apart from each other, Merrin positioned lower looking up, as the scene dissolves into the burning bright sun – a confirmation that the days of a black-and-white world are over. This burning environment dissolves to an establishing shot of Georgetown; the arena of the battle has shifted grounds from Iraq to Washington D.C.
The camera moves from the city to the bedroom of a large mansion. We see Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) writing notes on her bed. On her nightstand is a large black-and-white portrait of her daughter, Regan (Linda Blair). Chris hears loud animal noises coming from her attic and gets up to investigate. She puts on an orange nightgown before checking on Regan, who happens to be asleep in yellow pajamas. The window in Regan’s bedroom is wide open and gusts of wind are blowing through. A black-and-white image that gives way to orange and yellow, gusts of wind, and animal noises are all signs that the conflict we saw in the opening act has made its way here. Once again, Friedkin has managed to tell us what’s going to happen with just the most subtle of elements, using the repetition of visual and auditory cues to highlight the parallels between the evil happenings between both locations.
Extras playing students on the film hold up signs in protests against the Vietnam War, which was hugely unpopular and televised at the time. Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller) laughs in the background as he watches Chris and Burke squabble. The sub-text of the Vietnam war is present but the reasoning for why is never given to the audience. Instead, we’re made aware of its odd placement in the film and then made to laugh at it as to let it float away, to the recesses of our subconscious.
The next day comes and we cut to a film materialized within the film; it turns out Chris is a famous movie actor and is on set filming a movie about the Vietnamese war. Extras on set hold up signs indicative of the counter-culture at the time. The Vietnam war was raging and was immensely unpopular to many college aged students at the time. The war was famous for being the first “televised war” and media reporting at the time made it infamous at large. [3]Spector, R. H. (2016, April 27). The Vietnam War and the Media. Encyclopædia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/The-Vietnam-War-and-the-media-2051426.. In particular, it was a time associated with the hippie movement – a group who was known for its opposition to consumerist bourgeois culture and Christianity. [4]Quinn, D. (2019, August 21). The mixed legacy of the 60s hippie movement. The Irish Catholic. https://www.irishcatholic.com/the-mixed-legacy-of-the-60s-hippie-movement/. It’s place in a film about supernatural evil feels out of place. However, this strangeness is called to attention by a crew member who asks the in-movie director, Burke Dennings, if “this scene [is] really essential” and if “[Dennings could] consider on whether or not [the film] can do without it?” Chris then follows up and asks Dennings to explain the student’s motivations for tearing the building down. In both cases, no real answer is given, but the mention of a purpose entices us to give the scene more attention than we would; immediately, we become aware that what we’re about to see has a purpose which allows the sub-text to become imprinted on our psyches.
Dennings ignores the crew member and responds to Chris’s question by reiterating her role. He tells her that as a “teacher at the college, [she] doesn’t want the building torn down.” In exasperation this non-answer , Chris exclaims, “C’mon I can read for Christ’s sake.” – the first verbal mention of Christ in the film – and continues her search for a purpose to the scene. Dennings is still unable to provide a reason and jokes around with Chris about the situation – diffusing it and providing entertainment for the throng of people who have come around the shoot to watch it in action. In the audience is a priest adorned in black, Damien Karras (Jason Miller), who smiles along in excitement at the proceedings. The joke diffuses us as well as it does the proxy audience within the film, causing us to drop our guard again; the lingering questions disappear, leaving only their spectral vestiges behind to accumulate in the the recesses of the mind.
Chris (Ellen Burstyn) mentions God as she tells the students to calm down. The camera picks up on Damien (Jason Miller) as he leaves the crowd. Damien (Jason Miller) leaves as Chris mentions that change has to occur within the system. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) walks past a yellow door as the wind blows Autumn leaves past her. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) walks past a red door as the wind blows Autumn leaves past her. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) smiles at children in Halloween costumes running past her. Chris walks past two Nuns, one of whom is carrying a rosary. Chris ( Ellen Burstyn) sees Damien (Jason Miller) consoling another priest but can’t make out the conversation due to the loud noise of wind displacement. The filming scene does a great job establishing that Chris and Damien’s paths have and will continue to intertwine almost as if fate is pushing them together. We start with Chris, hop to Damien in a crowd of faces, then cut back to Chris who eventually runs back into Damien. It’s a poetic movement; they can’t meet till the time is right.
Chris’s journey back is also a double of Merrin’s journey in Iraq. She walks past red and yellow (the sun), goes past kids in costumes (a symbol of evil against evil) and nuns holding a crucifix (a symbol of the Lord and two veiled women), while the wind blows and “Tubular Bells” play. We know she, like Merrin ,will have to deal with the forces of evil.
Our attention focuses on the scene itself as it begins. Chris, now in character, walks up to the top of the school and tells the students to stop their protests. Once again, she verbally mentions “God” in her exclamations while telling the crowd of extras around her that if they “wanna effect any change [they”] have to do it within the system.” The irony of a wealthy atheist actress playing a teacher working against the counterculture movement while invoking “God” and “the system” is so astoundingly blatant that the fact that Friedkin was able to disguise each element by only subtly drawing a viewer’s attention to it, while simultaneously not compromising the structure of the film proper is proof enough of how textured The Exorcist is at cultivating multifaceted themes. As Chris’s monologue comes to a close, the camera zooms in on a crowd of faces before finding and following the young priest, Karras, as he makes his way to the Church.
The in-movie scene ends and Chris walks back from the set to her mansion. The red, orange, and yellow Autumn leaves around her blow as the wind blows them around her. The iconic theme music, “Tubular Bells” plays, a confirmation to the audience that the sings they’re seeing are a confirmation of the evil that has come to lay siege to the MacNeils. Chris walks by a series of doors, the first of which is yellow and the last of which is red. Children, symbols of innocence, dressed in Halloween costumes run by her. The tradition of wearing costumes on holiday started namely to protect people from evil spirits. Costumes were meant to disguise oneself from evil. Wearing the monsters protected one from monsters – evil against evil. It’s fitting then that the innocent Regan, soon to be possessed, is being affected by Pazuzu of all entities.
Unlike the innocent depictions of costumes on these children, Chris will be forced to deal with the real thing; just like in Iraq, the conflict has started and Chris, just like Father Merrin, will have to come face to face with her nightmares. On the other side of the street, two nun’s walk by. Their presence does not make the sinister soundscape abate. This scene is done in parallel to Merrin’s own walk in the opening; both parties walk by women in veils as evil pursues. Eventually, Chris come to the Church’s gates and sees Father Karras. He starts to talk but both us and Chris are unable to hear as the soundscape is once again interrupted by the sound of the winds. Chris and Karras have not met yet but the seeds for their encounter have been planted.
With this, all the key players have been introduced and The Exorcist can truly begin as Regan MacNeil finds herself in a series of supernatural events that force her mother and self into action in a race to save their lives. The above description of the first 16 minutes is only scratching the surface of the intricate and deeply enigmatic story lying at the heart of the film. Hypnotic suggestions loom around every corner as the movie cuts between sequences in thematic fashion. Consequently, the story’s rythm always feel constant so we’re none the wiser to how much time has passed in between scenes. It’s from these “gaps” that Friedkin puts the mysteries of the film behind. Just like the medal Merrin finds at the start, The Exorcist is littered with minor oddities like repetitions of certain quips and details in the mise en scène like the cover of a magazine that are brought to attention and then pushed to the periphery only to pop up later in the strangest of ways.
Strange cuts and displacements offer an answer one way, while the nature of the narrative suggests others. Based on how a viewer interprets one event, they color the way other events proceed; each of these decisions, culminates in how one processes the ending and subsequently the themes of the movie. Each little detail is placed there with a purpose, waiting to be deciphered in the matrix of meaning afforded by the rich subtext the film employs. The end result is a movie with an infinite permutations of meanings, each justified by an orientation grounded in the film itself.
For example is the film, like Stephen King suggests, about “the entire youth explosion that took place in the late sixties and early seventies”? [5] King, S. (2010). Danse macabre. Gallery.The film-making scene in-movie would certainly be evidence to suggest as much. Or is the film about the way we demonize the Other? The use of Pazuzu as opposed to directly invoking the Devil from the start is a choice made for a reason. These are only a few of the questions the movie allows us to ponder. Every detail, no matter how small it is, presents with it another layer of themes by which to interpret the primary conflict and a set of questions along with them. It’s not an exaggeration to say that one could watch the movie on repeat and come to a different conclusion each time.
Regan (Linda Blair) is shaken by her blue bed while dressed in yellow pajamas. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) talks to Dr. Klein (Barton Heyman) in a blue hallway. Lt. Kidnerman (Lee J. Cobb) accosts Damien (Jason Miller) in front of blue seats.I have to applaud the efforts in production design to ensure such a consistent color scheme. One only has to pause at a important enough juncture to see the scenes bursting in either blues, oranges, reds, and/or yellows depending on the nature of the scene. Whether it be in the architecture or the clothing, the relevant colors are there when they need to be and frequent enough to not feel like coincidence.
This is due, in no small part, to the way Friedkin repeats motifs, making the connections between seemingly disparate moments seem clear if one is looking. The colors red, yellow, and orange are first introduced at the start of the film and represent the spiritual battle. Whenever the colors prop up in the mise en scène, like in the color of the doorways or the characters clothing, we can already tell something is afoot. This is the color of the fight. In contrast, blues envelop the screen whenever a party is attempting to work against the malicious entities. It makes sense from a color theory perspective; in contrast to the heat feeling generated by the sun’s gradient, the cool and calm feeling of the blues feel like a natural response. Likewise, wind makes its presence apparent preceding scenes of terror, reinforcing Pazuzu’s dominion and area of reach. Animal noises like growls and barks creep into the soundscape reminding us of the buzz of the flies and the fighting of the dogs in Iraq while “Tubular Bells” all but confirms the sinister is going to happen when it turns up.
Damien (Jason Miller) tells Tom (Thomas Bermingham) that he, Damien, has lost his faith. Chris (Ellen Burstyn) hears animal noises from above. Ellen (Chris Burstyn) bathes Regan (Linda Blair) after the latter’s incident. The darkness crowds around them as the light gets further away. The fact that Friedkin could get some of the shots he did with the style of filmmaking he was pursuing is testament to his genius. The use of harsh shadows, smoke, and distant sources of light let him give all his images a distinct texture while enabling thematically rich visual storytelling.
Furthermore, the film’s lighting and use of shadows hearkens back to German Expressionism movement, and to an effect the noir movement which was deeply influenced by the former movement. Smoke fills many frames, emanating from cigarettes constantly being lit and the freezing cold temperatures of the increasingly chilly gusts of wind, giving them a more textured and gritty look. Lighting is harsh and often shows the dark nooks and corners in characters faces. Shadows encroach on characters visually demonstrating the influence of evil on their lives. Likewise, divinity comes in the form of bright lights which often show up near the spiritually inclined characters.
By sticking to a mostly unassuming style, Friedkin is able to employ all the above stylistic flourishes, call attention to them momentarily, and then sweep that attention under the rug in favor of something else. The end result is a hypnotic film that creeps under the skin without notice. Suggestions become patterns which become motifs that inform how one proceeds down the mine. Our mind is conditioned to associate certain triggers with evil and others with good, ultimately giving the viewer full reign in determining what the film really means.
The documentary like severity by which the subject matter is treated is the reason this subsequent engagement is so powerful and potentially cathartic. Because everything leading up to the supernatural phenomena is so grounded, the inclusion of such events is given a real power. Every single actor, from the main to the side cast, deals with the events of the film with a cold sense of realism forcing us to do the same. While I could spend at least a few paragraphs detailing the meticulous performances on display, I mainly want to draw attention at how well the film humanizes our leads and gets us to care about their well-being. In particular, the mother-daughter relationship between Chris and Regan, played by Ellen Burstyn and Linda Blair respectively, is sweet and endearing; their love is palpable. Blair presents her soon-to-be possessed character as innocent, whimsical, and child-like.
This is why her flip to cruel and off-kilter hits so hard; it feels impossible to believe that such a sweet little girl could transform into something so much more sinister. There’s no respite from the macabre cruelty put on display. One isn’t allowed to escape from the violence or allowed to cast it aside; instead, they’re forced to sit and marinate with it, imbuing it with their own personal subjective tendencies. It’s no wonder then that the film elicited such strong reactions when it was released with some more sensitive members fainting in theatres. [6]Vanderbilt, M. (2017, August 23). Audiences had some intense reactions to the exorcist in 1973. The A.V. Club. … Continue reading The movie tapped into the cultural zeitgeist at the time and pricks on a litany of unconscious fears and desires ranging from generational to cultural that are bound to generate strong responses even now and it does all that while remaining a conventionally frightening movie that doesn’t cheap up on the spectacle of the scares.
There’s a reason The Exorcist is often the first name mentioned in discussions regarding the greatest horror films of all time[7]I’m in the camp of critic Mark Kermode who regards The Exorcist as the greatest film of all time. I’m not at that level, but I have the film in my top 30 of all time and it constantly … Continue reading At one level it is as spiritual of an experience as a film by Dreyer or Bergman and then on another level it’s use of spectacle is of the greatest variety providing chills so deep and unsettling that they still serve as a benchmark, along with John Carpenter’s The Thing, on how to utilize practical effects to make horror as real as possible. It is a film that understands true terror lies hidden in the unconscious, so it employs psychological ands subliminal tricks to prime our minds and feelings for the nightmares to follow, but it doesn’t forget that the audience has come to be scared, so it pays off all the tension with the most depraved and upsetting images it can. It’s one of the crown jewels of cinema and is proof the medium’s power at truly probing the corners of one’s mind. Friedkin puts it best in his intro to the film: ” Over the years, I think most people take out of The Exorcist what they bring to it. If you believe the world is a dark and evil place, then The Exorcist will reinforce that. But if you believe that there is a force for good that combats and eventually triumphs over evil, then you will be taking out of the film what we tried to put into it.” [8] William Friedkin’s Introduction to The Exorcist. Warner Brothers. (1973) The Exorcist.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Exorcist is one of the greatest works of cinema, let alone horror cinema, serving spiritual lessons along with nightmares in equal amount. It is a film that treats every frame as an opportunity to set up subliminal scares, demonstrating that the best results require the most delicate of touches. By lulling the audience to the film’s hypnotic, but elliptical, rhythm, Friedkin forces every viewer to engage in a subjective tango with his mangum opus thereby ensuring that no two viewing experiences are totally alike. Multiple events in the film require the viewer to imagine their own scenes of terror in order to get a “whole” perspective on what transpires. If you give yourself wholly to it, The Exorcist will take you on an unbelievable journey that only the cream of the crop of cinema can dare to venture. The choice is yours.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
The camera pushes in towards the window qua frame. Louise (Amy Adams) happily looks down at her daughter.Louise (Amy Adams) looks down as Hannah plays in the background.Louise (Amy Adams) looks down at her daughter.Hannah (Abigail Pniowsky) tells her mom she loves her. Hannah (Julia Scarlett Dan) tells her mom she hates her. Louise (Amy Adams) cries for her dying daughter. Louise (Amy Adams) walks down a hallway which arcs and has no defined end or beginning. The opening of the movie demonstrates the fragility and temporary nature of life. We see Louise give birth, raise, and lose her daughter Hannah all within a few minutes of run-time. Match-cuts are used to jump between the past and present, demonstrating the way people change over time; Hannah goes from love to hate over the course of years, but we process it over the span of a few seconds. Thus, the weight of even a single moment is impressed upon us. The montage ends with Louise walking aimlessly, setting us up perfectly for the narrative to come.
The camera slowly tracks down and forward towards a window staring out at an ocean view while “On the Nature of Daylight” by Max Richter plays in the background. The song evokes feelings of melancholy and beauty and sets the mood for what’s to come. The window is a frame; a center point that demarcates an area while presenting. As the camera goes towards this frame we hear a voiceover by our still unseen protagonist, Louise, who explains that “Memory is a strange thing. It doesn’t work like I thought it did. We are so bound by time, by its order.”
We cut from the frame to Louise (Amy Adams) and her daughter, Hannah. We see Hannah as a child, being delivered into Louise arms. We cut again and see Louise playing with a slightly older Hannah (Jadyn Malone). Hannah plays in the background as her mom watches from the foreground. We match cut to Louise looking down on her daughter who says “I love you.” We match cut to an older Hannah who now says “I hate you.” Finally, we cut to a hospital where we see Louise crying over a deceased Hannah. Louise walks down an seemingly never-ending arcing hospital hallway as the music comes to an end. Louise’s narration continues as she notes that, “… I’m not so sure I believe in beginnings and endings. There are days that define your story beyond your life, like they day they arrived.”
Louise (Amy Adams) stands in front of her whiteboard qua frame. Louise (Amy Adams) reveals the television hidden behind the whiteboard.; a new frame opens up. Louise (Amy Adams) reacts to the news. Frames are important for the film, both as a visual motif and key driver of the themes of the film: being able to “take control” of the frame. Louise is always framed in a way that suggests her passivity; she’s behind the frame and doesn’t pay it much mind unless forced to. This opening sequence not only sets up the dominant “frames” in Louise’s life, but also places us firmly in her point-of-view as all our information is filtered through what she sees and hears. Even after she finally watches the news about aliens, we only get to see her reaction as opposed to the content. She’s our “frame” for approaching the film, determining the parameters by which we interpret the information.
Accordingly, the movie shifts to “present” time, to a Louise who seems oblivious to the world around her. She walks along as throngs of people around her crowd around televisions. Her energy levels are muted compared to the frenzy around her. She makes her way to the college classroom she teaches linguistics in and notices a severe lack of students. She gets ready to write on the large white board, a canvas in the center of the screen framing things, much like the window in her house.
The students who are present are distracted by their phones ask Louise to put on the television. She acquiesces and reveals a hidden television behind the whiteboard behind her. This television serves as a new central frame – a plane that provides an interpretative jumping off point. For the first time, Louise is focused on the news, and the camera reinforces this by only showing us her reaction; the content of the news report is not shown. We learn, along with her, that alien objects have landed in multiple locations around the world.
Louise (Amy Adams) goes to the window qua frame. Louise (Amy Adams) turns away from the window after her mom asks her how she’s feeling. Louise (Amy Adams) tries to flip channels away from the news regarding the aliens. The news shows pandemonium and fear happening en masse due to the aliens invasion. Louise (Amy Adams) is unable to “control” her frame, instead being trapped by whatever view it shows her. She can’t get past her funk, refusing to move past it in any meaningful way. She tries to change the channel (both literally and metaphorically) but is unable to. All the while, the world she tries to ignore is bursting at its seams with fear and chaos.
She drives back home and talks to her mom on the phone. She walks towards the center window while her mom mentions some conspiracy fueled news regarding the aliens which Louise says to ignore. She asks how Louise is doing; a fitting question given both Hannah’s death and Louise’s comparatively muted energy levels. Louise responds, “About the same.”
The camera changes positions in response, going from behind Louise to her side. Her unenthused state limits possibilities, something which is driven through as we watch her flipping through television channels in a desperate attempt to find anything not mentioning the aliens. She falls asleep having found no such escape; all the while, the channels, in contrast to Louise’s lack of concern, showcase mass panic and fear happening around the world. It’s only the next day, when she gets to a fully empty classroom, that Louise finally decides to tune in to the alien news the rest of the world has been binging since first contact.
The camera tracks towards Louise. A single window frame is shown. Louise (Amy Adams) slowly comes into view from behind the wall. Multiple window frames are shown. Louise (Amy Adams) comes into view. The window frames surround Louise.Louise (Amy Adams) is caught off guard by Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker) while she researches the aliens. To demonstrate the way the “alien problem” is creeping up on Louise, Villeneuve has the camera slowly track along a wall into Louise’s room. It’s like the problem is literally creeping up on her from the shadows. The window frames around her are a continuation of the motif ; her frame of reference is about to change completely. Once the problem has caught up to her, as indicated by the full-view of her character, she’s immediately called to action by Colonel Weber who shows up behind her.
The camera tracks in slowly, creeping in on Louise before finally dawning on her, like the news she’s avoided up to now. Her office is adorned with a host of window frames – a continuation of the visual motif. Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker) walks into her office and interrupts her while she catches up. He mentions that her previous translation work in Farsi helped the military with some insurgents, so he thought it prudent to have her translate recordings of the aliens “communicating”. She responds that her efforts certainly did help the Colonel in eradicating the insurgents – knowledge turned into violence – before claiming that she won’t be able to translate without first seeing the creatures. Weber refuses and threatens to leave before being told by Louise that his potential linguistic replacement for her, Danvers, is unable to do the task. Louise challenges Weber to ask Danvers for the Sanskrit word for “war” to confirm her claims.
Unfortunately for Danvers, Louise is right on the money. While his translation defines the word as “an argument”, Louise correctly defines it as a “desire for more cows.” ; an innocuous desire interpreted as violence. Weber thus acquiesces to her demands to see the aliens; you need the best translator if you have any shot of making sense of an otherworldly language. She is introduced to her soon-to-be partner, Ian (Jeremy Renner), and flies with him and Weber to the flying spaceship; an oblong shaped semi-egg shape whose size absolutely dwarfs the military set-up underneath it.
The researchers go to the bottom of the UFO. The researchers are lifted up into the UFO. Two of the researchers jump off the platform to engage in the ship’s new gravitational pull. The researchers are oriented in different directions due to the pull of gravity. As the researchers approach the aliens, the camera flips upside down. They’re entering a new domain. The researchers approach the “frame” the aliens reside behind. Villenevenue doesn’t use a lot of CGI, but the few special effects set-pieces he does employ are visually fantastic. The journey the researchers take to get on the UFO itself is trippy to say the least. As they jump off the platform, it becomes apparent that the ship has multiple gravitational pulls. This is demonstrated in the fantastic scenes showing the researchers jumping from “one plane” of gravity to another. As they walk towards the aliens, the camera flips upside down to highlight the magnitude of their steps; they’re crossing the threshold to new frontiers.
After being brought up to speed and procedure, her and Ian are sent into the ship to complete their first mission. The two of them get on a rising platform and are pushed up to the very base of the ship which opens to them. They jump off this base to a wall going perpendicular to it, seemingly breaking the rules of gravity. They make their way to the domain of the aliens; the camera flips upside down marking the moment where they officially enter the boundary to a new domain. Ian and Louise come to face with a large cinematic-feeling frame; a large grey canvas which calls to mind Louise’s window, her whiteboard, and the television screen. Face to face with this newest frame, she’s tasked with figuring out the aliens’ purpose on Earth before global war breaks out.
Despite featuring a “save the Earth from extinction” plotline featuring extra-terrestrials, director Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival positions itself closer to science fiction films like Contact and La Jetee as opposed to Independence Day. The focus of the story is about the intimate way human’s experience their day-to-day while grappling with the dice rolls that life doll’s out in seemingly random fashion. This is why we start the movie experiencing Louise’s happiness and her grief. We see a life come into fruition, grow, and then pass all within a few minutes. We’re hit with a range of emotions evidenced most explicitly in Hannah going from “loving” to “hating” her mother. Like Louise mentions in her opening monologue, life is a series of moments, held together in the frames of our memory ready to be processed. These moments with her daughter stick out and demonstrate to us that intensity, not duration, lends moments their meaning.
Even when the movie moves on the “main” storyline, we’re held away from it. We’re put into Louise’s point of view from start to finish, experiencing her grief with her, and then moving forward in dejected fashion. The story happens organically around us, but we’re only given bits and pieces of information. We’re forced to learn with Louise and because of that we adopt her point of view as our own; she is our frame. This is a technique Villeneuve previously employed in his previous film, Sicario, to help set the audience up for the unexpected. We get so wrapped up in our protagonist’s headspace that the world of the movie catches us off guard in the same it does to them. All the pieces of this surprise are shown to us in plain sight, but we’re focused on what Louise sees: a possibility for dialogue.
Arrival is a meditation on syntax and the way that its encapsulation of content changes meaning. In other words, it’s focused on delving into the “how” of language as much as it is the “what” of language. This is why the movie spends so much of its visual capital on frames; what frame do all of us use more than language? The words we use to express ourselves are made up of characters, and each character represents a sound. These sounds only make sense because of the rules we all agree to follow. The process of determining a syntax and providing translation serves as the main narrative focus which follows Louise and her colleagues as they attempt to frame the aliens’ language in such a way as to avoid war.
Louise represents the side of openness and approaches the aliens as partners in a search for truth. Meanwhile the people and organizations around her approach the aliens as, “an enemy who is wrong, who is armful, and whose very existence constitutes a threat.”[1] Foucault, Michel. “Polemics, Politics and Problematizations.” Interview by P. Rabinow, May 1984, In Essential Works of Foucault Vol. 1. The New Press, 1998. Every interaction Louise has with the aliens is met with skepticism from outside parties who seem set in their determinations of what’s going on. Thus, the race to determine the proper syntax becomes a battleground between Louise and everyone around her to establish the dominant meaning; the stereotypical sci-fi battle we’ve been conditioned to expect transforms into a language game between an interlocutor and a polemicist .
Her journey towards discovering the syntax is marked by a similar inner journey to dealing with the death of her daughter. As the movie progresses, it cuts to memories of Hannah and Louise; moments framed in time. These moments take on an initial meaning that changes as Louise is able to frame them in a new way. Moments of despair turn into moments of learning; memories transform into potentials for something new turning from traumatic to joyous. These transformations are given weight by Joe Walker’s’ fantastic editing. The match cuts which are used to demonstrate Louise flashing to memories of her daughter back to the present become varied in rhythm. Sometimes the cut is immediate. Sometimes the cut feels like something Satoshi Kon would do; event A happens, we cut to event B before A finishes that reframes A, and then we cut to the conclusion of A. This change in rhythm is directly tied to Louise’s external journey, discovering the language of the aliens, and her internal journey, finding purpose in her life despite Hannah’s passing, demonstrating true synergy between content and form. These strands all come together in a truly sublime fashion by the film’s end.
The lynchpin holding these strands together is the star of the film, Amy Adams, whose performance gives the movie its emotional heft. The way she gets lost in her thoughts gives the match cut edits from past to present and back again a heft; we can feel her consciousness shifting gears as she’s forced to overcome her turmoil. Despite acting against CGI aliens, her sense of engagement makes them feel real. We become attached to the aliens because her character is so enthusiastic about trying to understand them. This investment is what makes the cerebral nature of the film works; we care and are invested in our main character, so we want her to succeed even the parameters of her battle are in a different domain than what we’re used to. Because she’s invested in understanding the aliens, we are as well, which helps us stay engaged even in the slower portions of the movie.
While the movie isn’t as action-packed as some of its contemporaries, that doesn’t mean that its visually distinct. Villeneuve has just moved the focus from being so action-oriented to something more mystical and “other-worldly.” Instead of space lasers or explosions, we get chambers which shift gravity (and show multiple gravitational pulls at once) and wispy clouds of ink which are transformed into alien orthography. The result is a cerebral film which challenges and invites the audience into examining the power of each and every moment. It’s a movie that delves into the human condition in a way that hearkens back to the best of science-fiction , using an encounter with aliens to deconstruct what it means to live a fully realized life.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Arrival is a movie that uses the event of an alien first-contact as a jumping off point to examine the way people try and give meaning to their lives. Villeneuve’s direction, Heisserer’s script, and Adams’s acting come together in the form of a gripping cerebral narrative that is as engaging as its typical action-fare counterparts while retaining the inquisitive and thought-provoking elements of the very best of the science-fiction genre. By choosing to focus on the task of translating alien language as opposed to just engaging in some “epic” confrontation with them, Arrival forces us to confront the mysteries within ourselves as we tackle the mysteries of the extraterrestrials that come from beyond.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Teresa Wright as Charlie Newton Joseph Cotten as Uncle Charlie Henry Travers as Joseph Newton Patricia Collinge as Emma Newton Charles Bates as Roger Newton Edna May Wonacott as Ann Newton Hume Cronyn as Herb Macdonald Carey as Detective Jack Graham Wallace Ford as Detective Fred Saunders
The “Merry Widow Waltz” plays as the title sequence goes on.
The waltz refrain dissolves to a view of the Pulaski Skyway.
Two detectives, Graham (Macdonald Carey) and Saunders (Ford) look across for a missing subject.
The opening sets up the waltz that will serve as the movie’s key refrain, set to pop up at the key moments of the film. It’s from this scene that we dissolve into the view of two detectives looking for a subject.
The title card opens on a shot of couples waltzing to the “Merry Widow Waltz”. A waltz is characterized as being a triple time[1]A rhythym characterized by three beats to a bar,so it makes sense that this shot of the couples dancing will be be used 3 more times during the film’s run-time, each occasion marking one of 3 pivotal movements in the narrative: the start of the mystery, the mystery’s reveal, and the final conclusion. This shot dissolves to a view of two detectives eating underneath the Pulaski Skyway in New Jersey. The object of these men’s investigation is unknown.
Children play on the street.
A canted angle shot of a building.
A canted angle shot of a window.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) lies in bed.
Uncle Charlie’s money lays on the floor.
A landlady (Constance Purdy) babies Uncle Charlie and looks after him.
The establishing shot of children playing on the street suggest innocence, but this idea gives way quickly as we cut to canted angles closer to our subject. He lies on a bed surrounded with money, suggesting both his wealth and lack of concern with it. In spite of not knowing him anymore than as a tenant, the landlady treats him like a child and takes care of him. Despite having a “canted” interior, Uncle Charlie has a childlike presentation that immediately makes him endearing.
We cut to children playing in a street – an image of innocence. This tranquility is broken by the next shots: canted images of a doorway followed by a window – a darkness hiding under the innocence. We go to a shot of a young man sleeping in a room. The camera pans to a stack of bills next to him and underneath; he has a lot of money but doesn’t care about it. The door to his room opens. A motherly figure enters and informs that him that two of his “friends” showed up and asked for him. It’s clear from the conversation that this woman has no previous relation to the young man but she dotes on him regardless, treating him like one of the children playing outside. He informs her that the two man who inquired after him have never met him before despite being “friends”. Our censors go off at the oddity but hers do not.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) pretends to sleep as the blinds are closed.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) looks out at the police men.
Uncle Charlie has the vantage position advantage on the detectives.
Uncle Charlie walks past the detectives with no concern.
The cops are unable to find Uncle Charlie.
Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) stares down at the cops knowing that he can best them.
Uncle Charlie only reveals his true colors in the dark, coming to life only once the shades are fully shut. He stares down at the detectives from a vantage point which positions him above them; position means everything in this movie of influence. Certain in his status, Uncle Charlie walks past both detectives. He confirms they don’t know him and that he’s capable of outwitting them, gaining an advantageous vantage point all over again. He starts and ends on top.
Instead, she moves towards the blinds and closes them, insisting that the young strange man get some rest. The darkness envelops the mans face as he pretends to sleep before awaking – a denizen of the shadows react to move. He peers out the window and looks down on the two men who wait for him at the corner. This is a common motif Hitchcock employs to demonstrate power: the one who stands on the high ground comes out on top. The young man moves brazenly past the two detectives demonstrating to us that he is: 1. absolutely unafraid of his pursuers 2. the detectives looking for him don’t know what he looks like. They give chase to him but he gets away. The camera pans from the confused detectives who stumble on the ground up towards the young man who watches them from the upper floor of a nearby building; once again, he’s on top.
He goes to make a telegram to extended family of his in Santa Rosa, California. We learn his name is Charlie (Joseph Cotten) [2]I will be referring to him as Uncle Charlie for the rest of the review to make disambiguation easier. We learn that he’s an uncle. But we don’t learn why the detectives are pursuing him.
The traffic cop (Earle S. Dewey) stands as a symbol of the idyllic American life.
The cop (Early S. Dewey) dissolves into the Newton house. They are the “All-American” family.
A canted angle shot of the back entrance of a house.
Charlie (Theresa Wright) lies in the same position as her Uncle Charlie.
The introduction to Santa Rosa positions it and the Newton household as representative of the mythic peaceful suburban Americana. However, the parallel use of canted angles along with Charlie emulating her uncle’s position makes it certain that their stories are going to collide. The city and suburbia will clash it out to reveal the truth.
We cut from the wanted man on the run to the city of Santa Rosa. A cop monitors the traffic. This is a lawful place; an idyllic American city. The cop dissolves into a shot of a house. Like the transition from the children to the canted entrance to Uncle Charlie the transition from the cop to the house also shows a building in disarray. We cut from a canted back entrance of a house to a young woman, Charlie (Teresa Wright), in the same position we found Uncle Charlie in. Charlie explains to her dad, Joseph (Henry Travers), that she’s tired of her family who seems to be in a rut, especially her mother, Emma ( Patricia Collinge),who she feels is overworked and underappreciated. Desperate for a “miracle” she goes off to send a telegram to the family’s favorite uncle and her namesake, Uncle Charlie, hoping that he can shake things up at the Newton household.
Emma (Patricia Collinge) is trapped by Roger (Charles Bates) and Ann (Edna May Wonacott) who accost her from both sides.
After getting a call from her brother, Uncle Charlie, Emma (Patricia Collinge) is framed in a new light. She her own space from Roger (Charles Bates) and Ann (Edna May Wonacott)
Emma, like Charlie mentions, is overworked and underappreciated. As she takes a phone call regarding Uncle Charlie’s message, she’s harassed from both sides by her younger children. They incessantly talk and intrude into their mothers sense of space. It’s only when she realizes that her younger brother is coming into town that her sense of self returns. The camera arcs around the walls columns to frame her in a new independent light; her identity is being restored.
At the same time Charlie, a telephone comes in for the Newtons. The call is picked up by Emma who tries to take the call while being accosted by her younger children, Ann (Edna May Wonacott) and Roger(Charles Bates ). The two children “surround” Emma on both sides. However, as soon as the caller mentions to Emma that her brother, Uncle Charlie has sent a telegram informing the Newton’s that he’s going to be visiting them , the camera pans to a new view of Emma; this time she’s “free” and is framed in a new light. It’s clear that Uncle Charlie means the world to his sister.
Charlie (Teresa Wright) walks home excited that her uncle is coming.
Charlie (Teresa Wright) dissolves into the ominous train which carries her uncle.
The train shoots out soot and makes loud noises. It’s a disruptive force.
Charlie excitedly believes that her uncle will bring fulfill her dreams. Little does she know that all he brings is nightmares. As she goes off excitedly, she dissolves into the ominous feeling train which is going off in the same direction. The images “collide” into each other, just like the worlds of Uncle Charlie and Charlie are about to.
Meanwhile, Charlie makes her way to the telegram store where she learns the same information her mother had. She happily exclaims that her Uncle and her have a psychic connection with one another. As she makes her way home, the shot dissolves to a train going off in the same direction. The noise and smoke plume from the train serve as harbingers of the darkness to come. On the train, we learn that Uncle Charlie is “sick”, apparently so much so that no one on the machine has seen him. Uncle Charlie limps out of the train with the assistance of others but straightens up (un)surprisingly quickly upon seeing his family, namely Charlie, running towards him.
Immediately it’s understandable why the family loves him so. He regales Emma upon seeing her causing her to burst with joy. At dinner he presents every member of the family with gifts. Charlie initially refuses but acquiesces after her uncle places the ring on her right right finger. This placement is not a coincidence; if the left hand’s ringer finger marks a legal marriage, the right hand’s ring finger marks an alliance to prohibited.
Charlie notes that the ring is engraved with a couples initials but enjoys the mystery. Her uncle does not share the sentiment and comments he didn’t know it was marked; his face breaks into horror and the the shot dissolves to our first of the three “waltz” refrains; the “Merry Widow Waltz” mystery is finally afoot. This is made explicit as the camera cuts to Joseph talking to his friend Herb (Hume Cronyn) about their shared interest: murder mysteries their machinations. With all the key players finally introduced – the detectives, Uncle Charlie, Charlie, the rest of the Newton family, and Herb – Hitchcock’s thriller can begin with gusto.
Shadow of a Doubt is a story which examines the idyllic American fantasy and it’s nightmarish underside. In many ways the movie is a precursor to David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, seeking to explore the way two seemingly opposite worlds interact with and feed into the others construction. This is why our introduction to both worlds is so stylized. While Uncle Charlie’s world is one of darkness, Charlie’s is one where there is belief in the rule of law. The ring given to Charlie[3] Speaking of Blue Velvet, Charlie finding the ring is analogous to Jeffrey finding the detached ear. It’s the start of the journey into the mystery world. What do the initials mean? represents the choice, both metaphorically and literally, she has to make, one where she chooses to marry the fantasy of order and legality or the fantasy of chaos and disregard for law.
This battle for dominant fantasy is reflected in the architecture of the Newton residence, which has both a front and back entrance and which serves as the primary environment the movie takes place in. The front entrance is the domain of the idyllic fantasy, while the back entrance is the domain of the nightmare. Connecting these entrances is the stairway which automatically positions people higher or lower than another. Thus, the “everyday” American house becomes the battlefield for the direction of its soul. As Charlie and her uncle learn more about one another, they swap positions; the cat and mouse game flipping on its head as each party vies for the “top” of the stairs. Eventually the intensity of the battle bleeds out to the city proper, as the characters venture to new locale which reinforce the dichotomy between the two worlds.
This movie, for me, is the first of Hitchcock’s masterpieces combining both his sensibilities as the “master of suspense” with an immaculate use of technique to get his themes across in as many ways as possible. From the opening to the final shot, there is not a single wasted camera movement or out-of-place shot. Multiple scenes demonstrate changes in character disposition purely through changes in lighting long before making those changes noted through dialogue. If my long-winded analysis of the opening 20 minutes above wasn’t proof enough, one only has to look at any scene’s ending image to figure out what the point of that scene was; that’s how methodical the direction is. Every minute detail has at least one counterpoint that is meant to draw contrast in order to constantly draw our attention to story’s thematic question. However, none of these moments are ever done for their own sake; every detail supports multiple narrative threads. What seems to be the point of one scene transforms into the set-up for an even more elaborate plot in the next, giving the movie a fully immersive and connected feeling in spite of plot details that would otherwise immediately draw ire. Instead of questioning the story, one is completely captured by it, desperate to figure out where its end will lead. In fact, Hitchcock intentionally uses ellipses in the story by not fully explaining certain plot threads to force us to imagine scenes in the movie without seeing them; that’s cinematic mastery.
Even if one isn’t captured by the way Hitchcock deconstructs the American fantasy, one certainly can’t help but be caught up by the propulsive energy of the narrative which is in large part helped by commanding performances by both Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotton. Both of their characters have to do a juggling act between personas, light and dark, while showing cracks in their personas depending on what the story calls for. There are multiple scenes involving the two of them as they go from scared to received to enthralled and so on without ever skipping a beat. They play off one another believably like partners in a waltz as their worlds bleed into each others.
The end result is a film that effectively demonstrates the fragility of our notions of peace and the dirty processes that result in the successful deployment of such ideas (think Nolan’s The Dark Knight ) without ever treating itself like an epic. By subtly incorporating the themes and driving ideas behind them in and around every small detail, Hitchcock manages to give the questions he’s asking a more universal feeling; their presence can literally be felt in every movement of the movie. In spite of this, the movie never feels overly “showy”, choosing instead to lull the audience into its rhythm until they’re glued to the screen to the very end.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Shadow of a Doubt is a a thrill ride from start to finish, showcasing some of the finest craft and most impeccable storytelling. Even the smallest moment has meaning in this film-noir qua deconstruction of the American dream. Over 40 years before Lynch’s own masterpiece, Blue Velvet, Hitchcock’s work does much of the traversing between the two fantasies of American life: the beautiful dream and the terrible nightmare. And even now it’s just as powerful a watch.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Robert Downey Jr.as Tony Stark Terrence Howard as James “Rhodey” Rhodes Gwyneth Paltrow as Virginia “Pepper” Potts Jeff Bridges as Obadiah Stane Shaun Toubas as Yinsen
AC/DC’s “Back in Black” plays from Tony’s personal radio which looks out of place in the tank.
Tony sees one of his company’s missiles land next to him.
Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) is punctured by the blast shrapnel as the blinding sun hovers over him.
The sun fades to a blinding light source.
Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) is captured by the 10 Rings.
The opening of the movie establishes that we’re in a desert. The tank convoy seems to be subsumed by the environment around it. This imposing environment is disrupted as we cut to the tank Tony is in. His personal boombox blasts rock music in protests against the silent environment as he likewise tries to coax the nervous soldiers around him into becoming more jovial. This fun is immediately shattered as Tony is grievously injured by one of his own missiles. He wakes up from his injury captured by a terrorist group at which point the movie cuts to 36 hours in the past.
We start in media res as Tony Stark( Robert Downey Jr.) , a billionaire inventor and weapons manufacturer, tries to ease the tension in a tank full nervous soldiers. His jovial and comedic décor feels as out of place in the vehicle as the presence of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” does playing in the soundscape of a barren wasteland (from a diegetic source at that: Tony’s personal radio); a rock and roll persona and sound trying to make their impact felt in a war-torn environment seems the perfect analogy for the story to come.
Tony’s presence breaks through to the soldiers who finally feel at ease with his celebrity behavior. A soldier asks to take a picture and puts up a peace sign to which Tony comments that it’s because of peace that he’s still in business; weapons in war are needed for eventual tranquility. The soldier puts up the peace sign for the picture at which point the convoy is ambushed, the soldiers are killed, and Tony experiences firsthand the devastation of his own weapons as one of his missiles lands near him, explodes, and sends shrapnel straight into his chest. A peace achieved through war imploding as peace breaks to war. Poetic.
The screen dissolves from the blinding hot sun Tony stares at while bleeding out to a lighting fixture. We cut to Tony being held hostage in a cave by terrorist figures. The title card drops and we go back in time 36 hours to when Tony was living the life we’d expect of a “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”. He misses a conference in his honor in lieu of gambling with groupies. He deflects criticism of his war profiteering with quips and flirtatious machinations. Any serious matter meets him and turns into something fun-filled and fantastic instead, but we know how his story will eventually go.
While the structure of the opening isn’t as ambitious as something like Nolan’s Batman Begins (which also starts in media res), but extends the layering of different timelines to more effectively demonstrate its protagonists core traits and paths forward for growth, it does a good enough job of keeping the audience enthused and invested in Tony’s journey. We know how Tony’s character traits have led him to where he is and as such can better appreciate and focus on his development through the film. It’s at this point we return to Tony in his current situation, trapped by a terrorist group who demands he make them the same weapons that he sells the United States.
Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) poses with a solider who puts up a peace sign.
Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) puts up a peace sign while being rescued.
The peace sign transforms from a hollow symbol that Tony references as being the end goal of his military inventions to being the driving force motivating him to remove his weapons from the wrong hands. The sign previously held by the soldier becomes more personal to Tony; he’s now authentically pursuing peace.
With the help of another trapped scientist, Yinsen (Shaun Toubas), Tony manages to create and escape in an armored suit attached with a variety of weapons. It’s in this “iron man” suit that he escapes from the compound after setting it to flames. After an trek in the desert, he is found by the military. He puts up the peace sign again – the first time since he put it up jokingly with the soldier earlier- with a real understanding of the dark side of the price paid to achieve it and newfound mission : removing his companies weapons from the hands of criminals and terrorists.
Even though the story’s beats feels well-trodden now, they still manage to remain unique and captivating in an sea of Iron Man copy-cats (many of which are done by Marvel themselves). In some part, this is due to Iron Man’s successful lifting story elements from – and I don’t mean to beat a dead horse here – Batman Begins, which is in many ways the archetypal super-hero origin story. Executing the flashback start, a protagonist struggling to maintain a balance between their sense of duty and their humanity, and an antagonist set-up that operates on multiple layers in a way that’s compelling would already make Iron Man a fantastic mimicry with an interesting enough set of themes (namely the duplicity of the military industrial complex), but what pushes and sets it apart from both Batman Begins is its absolute commitment to making the human part of the story real. No character, from Tony’s friends to the man himself, comes off overly serious (Batman Begins) or overly campy (Batman & Robin). Instead each of them feels grounded and genuine, both in the way they carry themselves and the way they deal with Tony’s subsequent decisions.
It’s surprising then, to learn that the movie followed a very bare-bones script and required the actors and directorJon Favreau to improvise many scenes on the day of [1] Woerner, M. (2015, December 16). Jeff bridges Admits Iron Man movie had no script. Gizmodo. https://gizmodo.com/jeff-bridges-admits-iron-man-movie-had-no-script-5417310. You wouldn’t be able to infer based on the fluidity and cohesiveness that the actors are interacting with little planning which is a mark of praise for everyone involved. The end result is a movie where all the characters interact and come off of one another in a smooth non-manufactured way. The quips we’re used to now in Marvel movies feel far more authentic here because they naturally arise from the situation as opposed to feeling like an attempt at controlling our emotional response to the situation. It helps that in comparison to Tony almost every other character is quip-less which makes Tony’s zingers more prominent and distinct in comparison to the dialogue happening around him. The result is a movie where almost every character is one we can believe if not get behind allowing us to suspend our disbelief at the comic-book extremities and sip the superhero smoothie with ease.
In particular, the relationship between Tony and his secretary/love-interest, Pepper (Gwyneth Paltrow) propels the movie in a way that previous entries in the super-hero genre have felt lacking. The friendship between the two is established in the first flashback and lets us know that they have a long and storied history with each other and are aware of each others mannerisms. It’s clear there might be something there, but we know it won’t work because of Tony’s traits; he’s egoistical, unable to remember basic things (like Pepper’s birthday), and is focused on fully enjoying and embracing his status as billionaire playboy. The subtle nuances in their interactions are a result of both Downey Jr.’s and Paltrow’s fantastic ability to play off another – their chemistry feels palpable. The sense of progression he works on pursuing his new goals and begins to change, Pepper (and us the audience) and his relationship serves as a kind of barometer on his character growth.
Additionally, Tony’s growth is characterized by his suit in a literal sense. At the start of the movie, he is impaled by shards from a stolen missile of his. The weapon he made to stand for peace thus threatens to take that very peace away from him in every way. These shards are held at bay with an arc reactor he makes with Yinsen. This shining bright circle in the middle of Tony’s chest is the heart of his suit, powering the machine, is necessary in keeping his literal heart beating, and is the start of his first real human interaction in the form of Yinsen thereby representing a more metaphorical heart. He goes through a few reactor changes; each scene involving them is matched with a similar movement in his character – the fact that Pepper is so intimately involved with this motif in particular adds to Tony’s humanity as well, ultimately giving the movie it’s staying power in a sea of superhero movies.
Unfortunately, the thing holding the movie back from the highest echelon of the genre is how safe the movie plays with some of the unique elements it introduces. The start of the movie primes us to get ready for a rock infused score that coincides with Tony’s aura at the moment. I kept hoping that the music would continue as a motif; something like a different style of rock for different moods and progressions would have been interesting. Instead, the rock music is used sporadically and we hear a generic feeling score in the background [2]This shocked me given the composer is Ramin Djawadi whose Game of Thrones score I absolutely adore. I wish he could have captured more of the badass, independent, rocker vibe we get from the actual … Continue reading Likewise, the propulsive energy and clever plot development that defines the majority of the movie comes to a bit of a hiccup near the climax when the story decides to capitulate to cliché that it had no need to give in to. It’s not that the final clash is horrible or unsatisfying; there are clever callbacks littered through this sequence and the way it concludes is neat in the context of certain motifs. It just feels like it betrays possible clever ways out in favor of an option that’s totally unnecessary.
It’s a testament to the cast and crew that even over a decade into the Marvel franchise, Iron Man stands up as one of the better movies responsible for laying down an effective formula that the studio has been using in it’s movies ever since. The action scenes and many of the more “quiet”[3] By quiet, I mean the slower suit transformation sequences that feature less action but still look awesome. digital effects scene still have that same wonderous (and now as time has passed, endearing) effect years later because their aim is to create the same propulsive feeling found in comic books proper. While it may no longer be as “shiny” as it once was, Iron Man is still a movie you can put on and have a great time with.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Iron Man is proof that some gambles are worth taking. Though the movie started as an un-scripted grab-bag of ideas, the end result is anything but – feeling as slick as the Iron Man suit Tony Stark adorns. By focusing on creating an immersive and lived-in world from the geopolitical discussions to the nuanced way characters work off one another, Favreau and his team managed to create one of the most “humane” super movies. It may not be as flashy as some of the best in the genre, but it’s staying power stems from the heart feeling it generates. It’s simply a great time.
Rating
8.6/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Dev Patel as Sir Gawain Ralph Ineson as the Green Knight Alicia Vikander as Lady / Esel Joel Edgerton as Lord Sarita Choudhury as Morgan Le Fay Sean Harris as King Arthur Kate Dickie as Queen Guinevere
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
The movie starts on our young knight-to-be Gawain (Dev Patel) waking up in a brothel partaking in booze and making merry with women. It’s clear from his appearance and familiarity with the surrounding that this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. In direct contrast to our expectations, the nephew of the great King Arthur (Sean Harris) seems anything but coming off more like a loser getting by on the name of his family – lazing around in hedonistic fashion as opposed to doing anything suggesting knightly values.
He comes home to his mother, Morgan Le Fay (Sarita Choudhury) where he’s admonished for his unkempt behavior, cleaned, and then sent to to feast with King Arthur and Queen Guinevere (Kate Dickie) and the members of the round table. At first he sits afar from the king and partakes in the splendor of the feast but is then summoned by Arthur to approach the place closest to the royal couple. It’s here where Arthur asks his Gawain to tell the couple Gawain’s tale. Gawain’s expression sours as he responds he has no tale to tell at which point he’s interrupted by Guinevere who reminds him that he’s still more than capable of engaging on journeys to experience and then provide such tails. As if to answer her claim, the room darkens and a large figure, the Green Knight (Ralph Ineson) approaches. He asks the crowd around him if there’s a knight willing to play a beheading game with him. Gawain uncharacteristically accepts the “call to adventure” and lops off the figure’s head. The Green Knight reveals that he’s very much alive while grabbing his lopped head and tells Gawain to meet him at one year’s time to receive a similar blow.
A year slowly passes in the town. Gawain drinks and frets at the prospect of having his head chopped off; unlike the knight, he can’t grow his head back. He is championed by the city who finally views him as aligning with the knightly virtues he’s expected to align with while dreading having to act good on what those virtues entail. This duality is reflected in a puppet performance that we (and the town) get to see on repeat – a microcosm of the larger story – that shows Gawain lopping off the Green Knight’s head, gaining honor, and then losing his own head and dying. In fact, Gawain is literally forced onto his journey by Arthur. Thus, the story begins.
The setup, due to it’s nature as adaptation of the poem, aligns perfectly with the “hero’s journey”. Gawain starts off in his “normal” world as a vagrant getting by on his family’s name. He is “called to adventure” by the Green Knight. Based on the structure of the journey (and the poem proper), Gawain would meets a mentor/helper who guides them through problems until eventually he has to come to terms with the issue himself. They he would be “reborn” and come back to his original realm changed. However, as Gawain proceeds on his adventure it becomes clear that director David Lowery has made some huge changes to both the story and the nature of the hero’s journey itself. He runs into mentors of sorts, but each encounter with them feels more like an impediment than anything, making it unclear who is ally and who is foe.
Each character he runs into – a young boy (Barry Keoghan), a headless ghost (Erin Kellyman), a horde of giants, a fox, an overly accommodating Lord ( Joel Edgerton ) and Lady ( Alicia Vikander) – presents a scenario that is both analogous to Gawain’s own fear of the outcome of the beheading game whilst simultaneously representing one of the five virtues of knighthood: chastity, courtesy, friendship, generosity, and piety. Every scenario presents Gawain a choice he can make – a duality that is represented not only in vibrant symbolic color shifts (red to green) but also in methodologically slow paced scenes which literally demonstrate Gawain’s contemplation of what the future holds. For example, early on in his journey, Gawain is left for dead. The camera starts on him and slowly arcs around one way before coming back on him dead – the fate that awaits him if he doesn’t act – before arcing all the way in the opposite direction to show him in his original position. This constant repetition not only reinforces that death is always in the background as a finality but also makes it abundantly clear that honor is always a choice and a choice that one has to undergo by themselves.
While this goes against both expectation and the poem itself, that doesn’t mean that Lowery’s adaptation is inauthentic. It’s precisely in the way that it deconstructs knighthood shines that it is then allowed to appreciate the importance of the virtues. The adaptation functions more like a dialogue between Lowery, the poem, the nature of knighthood, and the audience proper. What the virtues represent and the way they’re handled in the poem proper are questionable in some parts, namely the ending (something I agree with). The adaptation challenges these moments by examining them under the framework of what the virtues would actually entail in an attempt to determine what a true knightly journey for Gawain would actually entail.
However, the consequence of what these moments actually mean are up to the interpretation of the viewer. The movie is littered with sprawls of text that seemed ripped from the poem and plastered into the world of the movie – a combination of the diegetic and non-diegetic elements. At one point, Gawain’s name shows up on the screen in rapid fashion and font styles like something out of Climax’s multiple title drops. These textual intrusions become something else when Gawain eventually runs into a Lady who informs him that she likes to collect texts and modify them in places she thinks could use work. Thus, the adaptations’ changes can be seen as a direct response to the source work itself while also suggesting the world of the movie is one of constant interpretation. The intentional ellipses in meaning aren’t meant to confuse as much as meant to draw the audience into conversation on what honorable action would mean in that situation. The movie pushes this to the extreme by ending the story near halfway point of the traditional hero’s journey, inviting the audience to come up with their own ending.
In many ways, the narrative shares a similarity to Bergman’s The Seventh Seal which follows a knight, Antonius, looking for meaning in a world filled with suffering and God’s apparent silence. As he goes from spectacle to spectacle, he tries to gleam some kind of meaning from God. Here, Gawain is not considered with the silence of God as much as he is with the ambiguity on what it means to be a true knight. Like Antonius, he goes from scene to scene trying to determine what an honorable knight would do and like Antonius he never receives any kind of confirmation that what he’s done is in accordance with this ideal.
For those of you looking for a straightforward narrative that follows the traditional beats, this may be a deal-breaker. However, to those looking for an immersive experience that’s fully drenched in the mysteries and splendor of Arthurian mythos there’s rarely been something quite as ambitious and joyous to experience. Even just ignoring the visual spectacle- beautiful color grading and scene construction which emphasizes contrasts and themes combined Lowery’s slow unwavering long shots – and the score which feels mystical and rustic (any score with chanting has a good chance of sounding epic), the host of Easter Eggs and nods to the legends of the Round Table make this a must watch. Lowery never draws overt attention to any of these details but naturally incorporates them to make the world feel lived and textured. The world is magical and mysterious so many events and situations just happen with no given explanation letting the audience draw their own conclusions on who’s doing what and why. The end result is we’re as disoriented as Gawain , going along his journey with him in the truest of senses. Now that’s bringing a story to life.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Green Knight perfectly encapsulates the themes, mysteries, and sense of allure Arthurian mythos inspires in its deconstruction of the poem of Gawain and the Green Knight. This is a movie that challenges and invites the audience to parse meaning at every moment, refusing to offer any easy way out to some predetermined answer. Anyone who likes engaging with movies as dialogue and/or wants to experience a lived in Arthurian visual and auditory vision owes it to themselves to check this out.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
