Posts Tagged psychological thriller
Year of Release: 2017 Directed by Darren Aronofsky. Starring Jennifer Lawrence, Javier Bardem, Ed Harris, and Michelle Pfeiffer.
“God therefore called man into existence, committing to him the craftsman’s task. Through his “artistic creativity” man appears more than ever “in the image of God,” and he accomplishes this task above all in shaping the wondrous “material” of his own humanity and then exercising creative dominion over the universe which surrounds him. With loving regard, the divine Artist passes on to the human artist a spark of his own surpassing wisdom, calling him to share in his creative power.” – Pope St. John Paul II in his 1999 Letter to Artists
The question at the heart of mother!, Darren Aronofsky’s latest bizarre fever dream heavily infused with Biblical allegories, is what happens when an artist abuses that power. Portrayed by Javier Bardem, the artist in question receives no name throughout the film, and he is clearly meant to serve as an archetype of something, but what that something is remains a mystery for much of the film. One thing that is clear throughout the film is that more than desiring to write great poetry, he longs for mass adulations from his adoring fans to the chagrin of his doting, supportive wife, the titular mother (Jennifer Lawrence).
Mother herself is another allegorical character, with touches of the Virgin Mary, Hestia, and Aphrodite, but she is primarily drawn from Gaia, or mother nature herself. Whatever combination of metaphors mother is meant to represent, Lawrence draws on them all effortlessly, creating a sympathetic character who never seems gullible or foolish for blindly going along with her husband or pouring all her energies into refurbishing their mysterious house, another process of creation and a sort of vocation that no one, including her creative genius husband, appreciates.
Aronofsky has said that his original idea for mother! was to convey a feeling of dread and helplessness as one watches their home destroyed, an allegory of mother earth’s helplessness in the face of environmental destruction That is an easy interpretation to see, especially considering the selfless giving of mother to her husband and the increasingly disturbing string of guests he parades through their home because they love his work. At the same time, if the invasion of the home is a parallel to humans destroying the earth, it also functions as an example of a self-centered artist allowing his wife’s handiwork to be abused and destroyed because he wants all fame and glory for himself, not much different from an abusive artist trying to usurp glory from God or misuse His creation.
As the destruction to the house crescendos in increasingly disturbing ways, it is impossible not to sympathize with mother as Aronofsky builds up to the horrific finale of his disorienting thrill ride. That sense of sympathy and compassion serves as a lament in the face of evil as we watch mother’s suffering. mother! may be a horror film, but it’s a profoundly sorrowful one. If the desire for fame can give birth to the ugliest of human behavior, idolatrous religious fervor fortifies those tendencies. mother! shies away from depicting neither.
The horror of human capacity for evil is made strikingly apparent by Aronofsky’s choice to saturate this film with Biblical allegories. The ones that feature into the finale are a jarring choice considering what happens, but that dissonance emphasizes the twofold horror of the artist who thinks he is God and of the inherent idolatry of adoring fans who placing their faith in works of art rather than allowing the art to remind them of something greater.
(Mild spoilers in the next paragraph, skip it if you wish to avoid them.)
The metaphorical nature of Javier Bardem’s poet has caused consternation among many Christian reviewers, and while he is certainly meant to be indicative of God the Father on some levels, he is just as much drawn from Pygmalion in Greek mythology with his doting trophy wife half his age, carefully concocted to be the ultimate fulfillment of every sexist fantasy regarding the subservient housekeeping wife whom the husband can ignore, whose existence seems due to a magical crystal he owns. He is also a highly incomplete portrait of God with his obsession of permitting people to do whatever they want provided they tell him he’s awesome. Mother is also representative of God with her sense of justice, the way she breathes life into the house, and the way she bears its burdens. If the poet represents a god where mercy has been divorced from justice, the abuse heaped upon mother results in a god where justice is divorced from mercy. Both are horrific alternatives, and the film depicts both.
It would be easy to dismiss mother! as an offensive and badly muddled allegory of religious themes, and indeed, many Christian reviewers have done just that. Furthermore, considering the damning way in which uniquely Catholic symbolism plays into the film’s climax, adding one more such condemnation to the fray would have been all too easy. However, to have done so would have been to ignore the thoughtful and complex way Aronofsky wrestles with the vocation of the artist and how that can be abused in a unique setting haunted by Biblical themes.
I believe the key to understanding mother! is to remember that it is not a straightforward allegory, but one that deliberately scrambles all its metaphors, much to the frustration of audiences. Alissa Wilkinson mentioned that Michelle Pfeiffer, in a scene stealing performance, is simultaneously an Eve and Serpent figure. That is the sort interpretation this film requires. Jacob and Esau are merged with Cain and Abel. The Nativity and the Passion are referenced almost simultaneously. And in a predictable, yet brilliant twist, Alpha and Omega symbolism bookends the film.
mother! is a grand, macabre symphony of big, bold, Mahlerian-scaled allegories that pummel the viewer through a psychological horror tale about creation, its destruction, and the artist’s vocation. The relentless pacing, disturbing and revolting plot twists, plethora of closeup shots, and the predictable yet nonetheless WTF ending all contribute to an atmosphere which will challenge even the most adventurous of viewers, causing many of them to abhor it. And for all those reasons, which create a perfect marriage of style and substance, I absolutely loved it.
Content Advisory: Disturbing graphic violence, including cannibalism, a scene of physical assault with fleeting nudity, a couple non-graphic sex scenes, a few harsh obscenities, and brief male nudity. MPAA rating: R
Suggested Audience: Adults with extreme discernment
Personal Recommendation: A
Year of release: 2017 Directed by Doug Liman. Starring Aaron Taylor-Johnson, John Cena, and Laith Nakli.
Two soldiers, a sniper, and a crumbling stone wall. As Scott Renshaw pointed out, this scenario basically writes and films itself, which makes the occasional stumbles all the more frustrating. Even with those stumbles, director Doug Liman (The Bourne Identity, Edge of Tomorrow) does a good job of milking this premise, crafting a tense thriller in which a cat and mouse game is set against the backdrop of the “won” Iraq War.
Criticism of the Iraq War and the notion that there could be any victory from that mess abounds throughout the film. The first title card tells us in 2007 the USA declared victory and the war was over, but the irony and dishonesty of that claim is highlighted by the opening shot of two soldiers camouflaged as they observe an oil pipeline where soldiers had been ambushed by an attack. Later, when the sniper hacks their radio signal, he asks them what they’re still doing in his country if the war is over. Finally, the closing shot will remain one of the most surprising conclusions of any film this year, and it strongly reinforces the notion that the Iraq War is unwinnable.
The film’s politics are unmistakable, but they are never heavy handed, and they provide added tension to the confrontation between Sgt. Isaac (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and the unseen sniper (Laith Nakli). Less successful is the backstory for Sgt. Isaac which is hinted at throughout the film, but when it’s made explicit in the last act, it comes across as a half-baked attempt at guilt and trauma which adds nothing to the psychological and physical standoff between the soldier and the sniper.
The other major misstep of the film is the scriptwriter Dwain Worrell’s decision to make the sniper a genius psychopath more knowledgeable than Hannibal Lecter who knows everything going on inside Isaac’s head, has orchestrated his plan to the last unexpected detail, and is fazed by literally nothing. Eventually, the characterization begins to approach caricature.
However, the cat and mouse game is largely successful due to the commitment of the actors and Liman’s skilled directing. At ninety minutes, the film moves along briskly even as it never changes location. I questioned the wisdom of a couple cuts to the sniper’s point of view – they really dissipated the tension – but otherwise, the editing brilliantly redirects our attention from the one soldier to the other, to the wall, to the corpses scattered around the pipeline, and to any possible location of the sniper. Liman knows precisely where to place the camera to achieve a balance between knowing what is happening and feeling just disoriented enough to share in the soldiers’ confusion and discomfort.
The Wall doesn’t make the most of its premise, but it gets enough out of it to be an engaging and thoughtful thriller with a worthwhile cross examination of the costs of invading Iraq, and Doug Liman proves his chops for directing action sequences once again.
Personal Recommendation: B-
Content Advisory: Frequent obscene language, intense violence, including brief but graphic images of bullet wounds.
Suggested Audience: Adults with discernment
Year of Release: 2014 Directed by Jennifer Kent. Starring Essie Davis, Noah Wiseman, and Tim Purcell.
The nearest point of comparison to The Babadook is Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining in that both are horror films which begins as films about a frightened, psychotic child then transitions to a film about a frightened, psychotic parent. I have seen a few critics call The Babadook superior to The Shining, and while I understand the reasoning behind that claim, (the transition from child to parent focus is more subtle and unnerving) I’m not sure I can go quite that far, although a second viewing may change my mind. However, I will give The Babadook this: it’s scarier than The Shining.
Amelia (Essie Davis) is a single mother, whose husband died nearly seven years ago as he was driving her to the hospital to deliver Samuel (Noah Wiseman). Amelia has never really accepted her husband’s passing, and while she occasionally visits her sister and stops to chat with her kind elderly neighbor, she has mostly shut herself and Sam alone in their house, with their main outside interactions being work and school.
Sam naturally does not fit in at school or among his peers. He is obsessed with monsters and loves telling stories that disturb not only other children but their parents as well. His favorite hobby is building weapons to fight the monsters. He smuggles those weapons to school in his backpack, and some of them would be extremely dangerous and painful if employed against a child. Amelia responds to the school’s concern by promising to have a serious talk with Sam, and when they suggest psychotic evaluation, she pulls him out of school with plans to find another one.
The setup is perfect for a horror film. Sam’s bratty behavior and obsession with outlandish tales of monsters make it so that almost no one would believe him if he really were in danger. Amelia’s desire to keep up appearances of normalcy, even as she increasingly isolates herself and her son so no one knows of their troubles, makes her foolish decisions believable and prevents any of them from being clichéd, stupid horror film choices, even when she copies one of Jack Torrence’s reckless actions in The Shining. Noah Wiseman is terrific at portraying a the terror of a child who *knows* that he and his mother are in danger from the monsters in the basement or in the closet as well as the determination of a child to protect himself and his mother. As Amelia, Essie Davis fluctuates perfectly among a deeply concerned mother, a neglectful and barely coping parent who expects her child just to behave on his own, and a mother exasperated by her son’s disobedient behavior.
The source of the horror stems from the tension between mother and son and the way it undermines the love that both of them ultimately have for one another. The Babadook is a character in a morbid children’s popup book, and it first appears when Amelia reads the book to Samuel before bedtime, unaware of the gruesome nature of the story. What was an effort for mother and son to bond gives birth to the thing that threatens to destroy them. When Sam begins insisting that he can see the Babadook and that they are in great danger from the monster which it is impossible to get rid of, the strain of such claims begins an escalation of sleepless nights, anger, resentment, and threats of violence which would be unsettling without the aid of a demonic presence. With the possibility of some unknown monster, it’s terrifying.
First time feature film director Jennifer Kent makes two great choices. She eschews trumped up special effects and gore, and creates an atmosphere of dread though suspense and suggestion, which she heightens with brilliant editing. Whenever a character is in jeopardy or frightened, the camera cuts to the next scene right before the resolution, leaving the outcome uncertain and starting a new conflict before the viewer can fully relax from the previous one. Kent also wisely avoids portraying the Babadook as a traditional scary monster which would make the audience jump on first sight, but then calmly sigh (and laugh) once they had seen it. I won’t spoil the minimalistic appearance, but it assists the menacing atmosphere of the film.
If I have any complaint at all about The Babadook, it is this: about an hour in I said to myself, “If this is going where I think it is, it’s going to need a twist.” It went where I thought, and it did have a twist, but I will need a second viewing to determine whether the twist is strong enough to work. I am inclined to say it is, because it cleverly ties together two earlier themes, and it reminds the viewer that:
Once you invite him in by reading his book,
There’s no getting rid of the Babadook.
Content Advisory: Much terror throughout, deeply disturbing scenes of violence between a parent and child, off-camera masturbation, and occasional rough language. Not rated; would be R.
Suggested Audience: Adults
Personal Recommendation: A
Year of Release: 1997 Directed by Satoshi Kon. Voices of Junko Iwao, Rika Matsumoto, Shinpachi Tsuji, and Emi Shinohara.
“Excuse me…who are you?” Mima Kirigoe (Junko Iwao) nervously repeats her only line as she prepares to shoot her first scene as a television actress. After a successful career as a Japanese pop idol, the young celebrity wants to expand her work to include more serious forms of entertainment. However, change is difficult, and due to obsessive fans and crippling self doubts Mima begins to question her profession and her identity as hallucinations that blur her television series with her personal life cause her perception of reality to start slipping away.
On the other hand, Mima’s hallucinations might not be projections of her uneasy subconscious. It is clear that a devoted fan is stalking her, the threats she has received are very real, as are the murders of those who exploit her vulnerability.
Then again, the police can find little connection between the murders, and by the time they happen, Mima is already so upset and self-conscious that she is sure everything is somehow connected to her. Regarding the obsessive fan, after the opening scene where he threatens a rioter trash talking Mima, no one notices him again. Mima is the only one who sees him loitering in the shadows everywhere she goes.
To compound Mima’s confusion and anxiety, a devoted fan has set up a webpage called “Mima’s Room,” which functions as an online diary of Mima’s daily activities. When she first discovers it, Mima is amused at how well one person knows her idiosyncrasies. However, as the online account deviates more and more from her daily activities as an actress, instead detailing her daily activities when she was a pop star, Mima begins to wonder which version of her life is real. To make things worse, Mima is discovering tangible proof in her apartment of the online account of her supposed activities, activities of which she has no memory.
The driving force behind Mima’s fear is a projection of her subconscious which criticizes every choice she makes, calling her a traitor to her real self. Mima is susceptible to these criticisms, because she does feel uneasy. She misses her friends with whom she used to perform, but more notably, the television executives are writing scenarios that are freakishly similar to her personal life, and they are exploiting her and trying to force her into racy situations that will boost ratings. The first appearance of Mima’s critical subconscious is synchronized with the arrival of a script that demands she film a rape scene. When Mima is tricked into a nude photo shoot, the subconscious informs her that she is no longer the real Mima and that the real Mima (the subconscious) will return to performing as a pop star while the actress fades into obscurity.
Until the very end, it remain unclear whether Mima is being driven insane by a dangerously obsessed fan, whether her own guilt is making her uneasy, or something else entirely. The depiction of this uncertainty and the possible surreal obfuscation of multiple mentalities is what Perfect Blue captures brilliantly. The editing effortlessly fluctuates between different realities, and towards the end, the film begins to show repetitions of the same event. One time it is depicted as it takes place in Mima’s television series, the other time it is within the nightmare of Mima’s subconscious. Each version concludes with Mima waking up in her apartment, distressed and confused, heightening the mystery of what is real and what is not.
Perfect Blue was released in 1997, and director Satoshi Kon makes excellent use of the novelty of the internet. The world wide web was a new phenomenon and obsession, and in the film it is used to manipulate Mima’s perception of reality as well as mirror her uncertainty as she begins a new career. Even five years later, that sensation would have been lost.
The film is also very culturally aware of other horror films, and there are references to two of the greatest psychological thrillers concerning split personalities and character transformations: The Silence of the Lambs and Psycho. The television series Mima is filmingconcerns a serial killer who skins his female victims so he can become a woman, like Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs. Another scene refers to a role that Jodie Foster played before The Silence of the Lambs. And the ending takes a page directly from Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 horror masterpiece.
Before his tragic death in 2010 at age 46 from pancreatic cancer, Satohsi Kon directed four feature length anime films and created one anime television show. Perfect Blue was the first of those, and it is an incredible achievement for a debut film, capturing a terrific sense of mystery and showcasing the danger of obsession that twists reality until it is almost unrecognizable.
Content Advisory: Graphic depiction of rape, full frontal nudity, several very gruesome murders, and an atmosphere of horror throughout. Not rated, would be NC-17 if it were live action.
Suggested Audience: Adults with discernment
Personal Recommendation: A
Year of Release: 1999 Directed Stanley Kubrick. Starring Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Madison Eginton, Sydney Pollack, Todd Field, Julienne Davis, Vinessa Shaw, Sky Dumont, Rade Sherbedgia, and Leelee Sobieski.
I realize Eyes Wide Shut is a controversial film among not only Christians but moviegoers of any belief. Stanley Kubrick’s final film is known for its graphic sexual content, and it is understandable that many viewers, especially Christians, would wish to steer clear of it. Kubrick’s final cut of the film even received an NC-17 rating, which the producers changed to an R after his death by digitally altering several sequences. However, when released on DVD, Kubrick’s initial cut of the film was restored as he had intended. Therefore, wouldn’t it have been safe to assume that this film, regardless of whatever artistic merits it had, crossed the line into pornography and off-limits to any discerning viewer?
I have admitted this before: I am a huge fan of Stanley Kubrick as a director, and I trust his artistic decisions. In his twelve previous films, he never degenerated into gratuitous content, and even the most raw and explicit content in those films served a purpose to the story and challenged the viewer to consider his preconceptions and reactions to the material.
While Eyes Wide Shut certainly contains content that would make many viewers uncomfortable, and would earn it accusations of being pornography from casual viewers, the context in which the sexuality is portrayed causes it to serve the exact opposite purpose of pornography. While it might be possible for a porn addict to use the sexual scenes for pornographic intent, by doing so he would be doing the very thing the film strongly condemns. Does it bother me that a porn addict could use the sex scenes in the opposite way of how they are intended? No, a drug addict could find a scene criticizing drug abuse to be a source of temptation. Everyone suffers from different temptations triggered in different ways. What each viewer is capable of watching is up to that viewer to determine. Eyes Wide Shut does not encourage any temptations, and it depicts unbridled lust as degrading and dehumanizing, which gives it a pass in my book. Kubrick also films the scenes in a creepy, surreal style that makes them anything but alluring.
If one substituted sex for violence and nudity for gore, Eyes Wide Shut could easily be analyzed as a horror film. And I think Kubrick’s final film is, in many ways, a horror film every bit as creepy and disturbing as his conventional horror film, The Shining, with the main difference being that instead of the protagonist becoming isolated and his family threatened due to a violent nightmare, the protagonist here becomes isolated and his family threatened due to a sexual nightmare.
The groundwork for Dr. Bill Harford’s (Tom Cruise) dangerous sexual odyssey is laid at the beginning of the movie when he and his wife Alice (Nicole Kidman) attend the Christmas party of their friend Victor (Sydney Pollack). While there, Bill is asked to give medical assistance to a naked prostitute who overdosed on cocaine. While he is occupied, a sleazy Hungarian (Sky du Mont) heavily hits on Alice asking her, “Why a beautiful woman who could have any man in the world would want to be married.” He expounds on his question, saying that marriage as an institution only exists because in former times women were afraid they would never have sex unless they tied the knot; now, such formalities are thankfully no longer required.
The Hungarian functions very similarly to the creepy old man who gives the unheeded warning and then disappears in a regular horror film. He is knowledgeable about a world of which the protagonists are unaware, but there is a disconcerting atmosphere about him, which should give the protagonists enough warning not to explore that world of his, but of course they do.
When Alice questions Bill about where he disappeared to at the party (he had last been seen flirting with two young, attractive women), she gleefully mentions her flirting with the Hungarian. Bill is not perturbed, because “women are faithful, but men are just like that (fantasizing about adultery, but never committing it), but he was not like that with those two girls.” Alice finds this rationale less than comforting, and as revenge proceeds to tell Bill about an affair she wished she had had a year ago. The news shocks him, and after completing a house call, Bill begins traveling down an increasingly twisted and sinister sexual nightmare of observation. Neither one of them ever consummates their lust, but their observations and fantasies have consequences every bit as dangerous as if they had. Standing in the midst of fire observing it is just as dangerous as playing with it.
Bill’s nighttime journey, which begins with solicitation from a prostitute, proceeds to underage prostitution, and it culminates with a bizarre, sinister orgy where all the participants are masked. The orgy is a total expression of sex divorced from marriage or any relationship, about which the Hungarian rhapsodized at the film’s beginning. Kubrick films the sequence with distant tracking shots, exaggerated angles, and interrupted zooms to highlight disturbing nature of the demonic ritual, which is every bit as unnerving as anything in Blue Velvet or The Silence of the Lambs. (Additionally, the final line of Eyes Wide Shut contains the same type of horrific yet darkly comic undertones as Lecter’s final line in The Silence of the Lambs.)
The color red plays a prominent role in Eyes Wide Shut, underscoring the danger of unrestrained desire and fantasy allowed to run amok. Bill’s first connection to the dangerous nighttime orgy is formed at the Christmas party when he helps the redheaded prostitute. That same prostitute later warns Bill of the serious danger he is in when he observes the orgy, which begins in a room with a vibrant red carpet, organized by a man in a bright red cloak. The marijuana induced argument about marital fidelity between Bill and Alice is framed against their mahogany bedpost. Bill first hears of the nighttime ritual from his friend Nick (Todd Field) after walking through a red hallway with red lights to enter a bar. When Bill is solicited by a prostitute, the red door to her apartment complex stands out against the drab building. When he arrives home, deeply perturbed, Alice wakes up from a nightmare in which she participated in an orgy as Bill observed. As she relates the dream, the camera focuses on the dark red bed sheets. To emphasize that Bill’s sexual adventures leave no one in his family safe, his and Alice’s daughter Helena (Madison Eginton) has red hair.
The red is inescapable, and it bleeds over into both fantasy and reality in almost every shot. The final explanation, which takes place next to a bright red pool table, only further mystifies the dark proceedings, causing the viewer to question what is real and what isn’t. The blurring of nightmare and reality is introduced in the opening scene as “Waltz 2” from Shostakovich’s Jazz Suite underscores the opening titles and then segues into source music as Bill and Alice prepare to leave for the Christmas party.
The entire film is deliberately paced like a surreal nightmare. When Bill and Alice realize that they need to wake up, they have recognized the horror, but the fantasy has saturated their lives, and consequently their proposed solution is a different facet of the same problem. If that doesn’t make Eyes Wide Shut a horror film, I don’t know what does.
At the very beginning before her parents leave, Helena asks if she can stay up until they come home. Alice tells her that would be too late. Once they leave, perhaps it already is.
Content Advisory: Many explicit sexual scenes, full-frontal nudity, child prostitution, some drug use, occasional profanity and obscenity. Unrated; was NC-17
Suggested Audience: Adults with extreme discernment.
Personal Recommendation: A+