Drive (2011) Review

Directed by uncompromising Danish auteur Nicolas Winding Refn, Drive is the best of several “art” films to achieve mainstream status in the past few years. Looking set to become a cult classic, Drive is already developing a strong following. So what’s all the fuss about?

In a somewhat formulaic plot, Ryan Gosling plays an unnamed protagonist, working as a Hollywood stuntman by day whilst moonlighting as a getaway driver. A loner, Gosling harbours a secret love for neighbour Irene (Carey Mulligan), whose husband is being hassled by the mob. To protect Irene, Gosling – against his better judgement - offers to help her husband. Naturally not everything goes to plan…

It should be noted that Drive simply has to be watched on Blu-ray. Never has L.A looked so slick. The helicopter shots of the neon drenched cityscape are stunning. Sun soaked Los Angeles is brought to life in a way never seen before. This is pulp movie making at its absolute finest.

Without doubt, this is Goslings film, from start to finish. His is a minimalist performance of subtle brilliance. Not since Alan Ladd’s Shane have we seen a hero this coolly stoic. Calm, composed and utterly ruthless, this is Gosling’s best performance since his stunning breakthrough in Half Nelson. Dialogue is minimal, but Gosling’s portrayal stems mainly from a stolen glance, wry smile, or the occasional flexing of a leather glove. Those familiar with Clint Eastwood roles of old will be in familiar territory here. Gosling also sports a certain jacket which, believe me, will you have you scouring the internet in search of a replica as soon as the credits start to roll.

Carey Mulligan doesn’t have a great deal to work with, but as ever delivers a memorable performance as Irene– even if she is relegated to the lowly role of love interest. Breaking Bad star Bryan Cranston is perfect as Goslings good hearted, criminal employer. Ron Perlman is, as always, mesmerising. The real surprise performance of Drive is that of former funny man Albert Brooks, who positively delights in playing bad-to-the-bone villain Bernie Rose. Brooks simply oozes malice, and perfectly counteracts Gosling’s driver in every way imaginable. From the outset, it is clear that these two men are destined for a violent confrontation.

Violence is not something Drive shies away from. Anyone familiar with Winding Refn’s previous work will be aware that the director delights in satisfying our morbid fascination with the macabre. In Drives relatively short 100 minute runtime; we witness stabbings, car crashes, artery severances, eye gouging, drowning, beatings and shootings. Oh, and Gosling puts his boot to good use in an already infamous elevator scene, reminiscent of Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible. Maybe not one for the faint hearted then…

Drive implements the most ludicrously infectious soundtrack of the year. Comprised entirely of heavily synthesised, 80’s influenced Euro-pop, the results are spectacular. When the super stylised visuals are infused with this peculiar brand of pulsating synth pop, Drive simply excels. This is how movies should be made.

Imagine the original 1980’s Miami Vice, directed by William Friedkin and absolutely drenched in neo-noir retro styling. Delicately treading the line between action and art, Refn has created something wholly original. Some might argue that Drive is a classic case of style over substance, but when it looks this good – who cares?

Revisiting The Thin Red Line (1998)

Terrence Malick is one of cinemas most elusive characters. Reclusive, uncompromising and brilliant in equal measure, Malick stands as one of the greatest living directors. His triumphs include masterpieces such as Badlands, Days of Heaven and most recently the Tree of Life. Yet his greatest achievement remains, in my opinion, Second World War epic the Thin Red Line.

Released in 1998, the Thin Red Line was one of two war films to generate mass critical acclaim. The other, of course, was Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. Spielberg’s offering crushed the box office (as Spielberg movies tend to do) and cleared up at the Oscars, yet Malick’s first film in twenty years left empty handed despite being nominated for a whopping seven Academy Awards.

The Thin Red Line suffered considerably due to being released so soon after Spielberg’s behemoth had beaten cinema audiences into bloody submission. Expecting another adrenaline fuelled action adventure with a John Williams soundtrack, audiences instead were faced with a master class in the art of poetic filmmaking. As such, Malick’s vastly superior film has forever lived in the shadow of Saving Private Ryan.

That being said, Malick’s tone poem is certainly not for everyone, clocking in at just shy of three hours, the Thin Red Line is long, really long. At times the pacing is glacial, major actors prove distracting in tiny cameos, the bulk of the film rests on the shoulders of relative unknowns and the narrative textbook has well and truly been thrown out the window. Yet despite this, the Thin Red Line stands as a triumph of contemporary filmmaking.

In a nutshell, the plot is concerned with the dangers faced by Charlie Company as they attempt to secure a heavily fortified ridge in the battle of Guadalcanal during the Second World War. Woody Harrelson, George Clooney, John Travolta, John Savage, Thomas Jane, John Cusack, Jared Leto, Nick Nolte, John C Reilly and Adrian Brody all feature, yet the true protagonists of the film are portrayed by Ben Chaplin, Sean Penn, Elias Koteas and Jim Caviezel.

Malick’s camera flits freely between these characters, examining how each individual deals with the devastating demands of war. Chaplin’s character seeks refuge in erotic fantasies with his wife, whilst Penn cynically dismisses any hope he may have of salvation. Many of the characters provide a voice over narration, not to progress the plot, but to reveal more about themselves, their collective view of the war and its many disturbing facets. Malick seems to be more concerned with the psychological effects of war than the physical. The old adage states that war strips men of their innocence, Malick takes this idea further; he would suggest that war launches an assault on the soul. 

The Thin Red Line frames war as an unnatural state, a terrible villain that has no rightful place in this world. The film is riddled with tropical symbolism, and strives to depict man’s eternal struggle in the destruction of nature and himself. Where Spielberg shows a man shorn down by machine gun fire, guts in his hands, Malick reveals a baby bird, dying, haven fallen from its nest as bombs drop nearby. Thus Malick demands that we consider the very nature of war, how can we allow this to happen? The Thin Red Line is a perfect example of onscreen philosophy, the very ideas of Malick reflected in a visual tone poem.

Although the action scenes in the Thin Red Line are few and far between, they are expertly orchestrated. Bullets ricochet, explosions desecrate the landscape and soldiers scream in agony. One particular scene where Charlie Company assaults a fortified ridge is every bit as visceral as Saving Private Ryan’s famed beach landing. Spielberg’s film sheds little light on the nature of the Thin Red Line; perhaps a better comparison would be with the surrealist dreamscape of Coppola’s Apocalypse Now.

John Toll is the man responsible for the staggering cinematography on display. The vibrant jungles and lush landscape are beautifully captured through perfectly controlled tracking shots and slow camera pans. With the landscape itself being such a key thematic component of the film, it is imperative that it be captured in a manner that demands the attention of the audience. The ever brilliant Hans Zimmer provides an original score for the Thin Red Line, with much of the soundtrack consisting of several Melanesian choral songs and chants, which perfectly compliment the films many thematic elements.

Whether you admire the Thin Red Line for its vast poetic beauty, or consider it pretentious and isolating, it is impossible to deny the supreme power of the film. Malick is able to convey the very nature of love, death, heroism and war in a way no other film has ever accomplished. A free flowing visual poem of ideas, the Thin Red Line lives long in the memory. Never has a film this intimate, felt so epic.  A true masterpiece.

Only God Forgives (2013) Review

Back in 2011, Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling collaborated to produce one of my favourite films of the past decade. Since then, Drive has become a cult classic. When it was announced that Refn would once again be teaming up with Gosling for a Thailand based gangster movie, expectation was high – sky high.

First off, Only God Forgives does not resemble Drive in the least. Refn has backtracked. The Danish filmmaker’s canon has been growing ever more commercial over the past few years. Bronson, Valhalla Rising and Drive all achieved reasonable commercial success, and could even be considered mainstream films. Only God Forgives showcases the return of Refn to his artistic roots, and then some.

The plot of Only God Forgives is almost non-existent. Ryan Gosling plays drug smuggler Julian, who faces the wrath of his tyrannical mother (Kristin Scott Thomas) when his brother is brutally murdered. The actions of Julian’s psychotic mother soon attract the attention of the brutal Lieutenant Chang, otherwise known as the “Angel of Death”…

Only God Forgives is quite simply one of the most stylish films of the year. Refn has demonstrated time and time again his unparalleled gift for stylistic control, and Only God Forgives is no exception. Rarely do movies look this beautiful, this is film as art. Bangkok is captured magnificently in swathes of red neon, a twisted hell on earth in which Julian is trapped. The visuals combined with the surging electronic score are infused with elements of eastern influence that firmly establish the backstreets of Bangkok as a primary character in this immoral tale of guilt.

All of Refn’s trademarks are notably present. The long awkward silences, scenery bathed in primary colours, haunting electronic score and excessive violence engulf Only God Forgives. It’s almost as if Refn has completely discarded any semblance of plot or character in some sort of bizarre stylistic experiment. This isn’t to say that Only God Forgives isn’t enjoyable, quite the opposite. The films total disregard for traditional cinematic conventions is refreshing, and it’s almost impossible not to admire Refn’s overly stylised nightmare.

It’s almost impossible to tell the difference between fantasy and reality throughout Only God Forgives. Refn’s Bangkok resembles some twisted form of hell, haunted by a neon red glow and inhabited by only the worst kinds of people. There are no heroes in Refn’s vision, only criminals of varying degrees. Julian is himself a criminal, and deserves his place in this hell on earth. Ultimately his quarrel lies with the creator of his surreal nightmare, the “angel of death” himself.

Those who struggle to endure the graphic violence so often associated with Refn's films may want to skip Only God Forgives. The brutality has been pushed to the limit. The colourful outbursts of Kristin Scott Thomas alone are guaranteed to secure a multitude of mid film walkouts from those with a sensitive disposition. Yet it is the violence orchestrated by Refn that truly shocks. One torture scene in particular makes for an uneasy viewing experience. 

Only God Forgives is utterly captivating, although certainly not for everyone - even the most bizarre offerings of David Lynch make more sense than Refn’s disturbed fantasy. Like meeting Colonel Kurtz for the first time, Refn's extraordinary vision is horrifying, confusing and ultimately, brilliant. You'll be glad you got off the boat.

Terrence Malick's the Tree of Life (2011)

Terrence Malick’s fifth film in four decades is inarguably an immensely personal endeavour. Awarded the treasured Palm D’Or at the Cannes film festival, the Tree of Life was simultaneously met with rigorous applause and derisive boos at its premier. Malick is renowned for his uncompromising cinematic vision, yet the Tree of Life has confused and divided audiences like never before.

The film chronicles the life of a young family growing up in Texas during the 1950’s, set against a backdrop of cosmic creation, universal inception and the end of life on earth. Oh, there are also some dinosaurs thrown in for good measure. If it sounds deep, that’s because it is. With the Tree of Life, Malick is fully committed to exploring the biggest question of all; what is the meaning of life?

Technically, Sean Penn is the film’s protagonist, yet his screen time is limited and his dialogue even more so. This isn't a criticism of Penn’s performance, on the contrary; his portrayal of the adult Jack is wrought with guilt and regret. Brad Pitt excels in the somewhat unflattering role of a domineering father at odds with the world and everything in it. The Tree of Life also happens to be the film that launched the now blossoming career of Jessica Chastain, who radiates compassion and grace in her splendid performance as the kind hearted mother of Jack. The real star performances of Tree of Life however, belong to the three young leads; Hunter McCracken, Laramie Eppler, and Tye Sheridan. McCracken in particular is spectacular as the troubled young Jack, desperately fighting to maintain his youthful innocence in the face of his advancing teenage years.

With the Tree of Life, Malick has created nothing short of a poet’s view of existence in this world.  The film pays little attention to narrative coherence, and instead demands that its audience observe, interpret and reflect upon events unfolding on screen. Never before has a film tackled themes of such tremendous weight, yet maintained enough emotional impact to resonate effectively with viewers. Kubrick’s masterful 2001: a Space Odyssey delved deep into philosophical debate and wowed audiences, yet left them cold and disengaged. The Tree of Life on the other hand, is malleable in its perception; the film itself is shaped by the very existential beliefs and ideas of the audience.

The Tree of Life plays host to an abundance of philosophical themes, yet most prevalent of all is the eternal struggle between nature and grace. Personified through the characters of Pitt and Chastain, the film explores the contrasting urges to satisfy basic human desires, and the will to show forgiveness, kindness, and mercy. Nature, like the character of Pitt, uses “fierce will” to get ahead in this world, whereas those who follow Chastain’s path of grace are able to live freely, accepting that many things are out with their control. Jack must navigate these conflicting ideals, resulting in an internal battle that demands the very essence of his youth; innocence.

At its core, the Tree of Life examines a man looking at his own existence, and what it means in relation to God and to the universe. The film seems to assert that everyone is connected, if only through the phenomenon of existence itself. Ultimately Malick would suggest that we are incapable of achieving true “meaning” within the context of the universe, but that our choices are of utmost importance to our own lives and of those around us – which is of significant meaning in itself.

For a film so ambitiously epic in scale and scope, the Tree of Life is able to connect on an extraordinarily intimate level. As he examines the loss of innocence, and the childhood realisation that the father figure is in fact fallible, Malick is trespassing on profoundly personal territory. Indeed, the Tree of Life is surely influenced at least in part by Malick’s own childhood. Growing up in Texas himself in the 1950’s, and losing a brother at a young age, the film certainly seems to carry an autobiographical overtone.

Impossibly ambitious, visually enthralling, and thematically dense, the Tree of Life is inarguably unique. Whilst certainly not to the taste of all, it would be foolish to deny the brilliance of Malick’s Magnum Opus. The dawdling pace and lack of linear narrative may be off putting to some, but even for non-Malick fans, this is downright essential viewing. Undoubtedly one of the very best films of the decade.

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) Review

In his previous outing, Blue Valentine, director Derek Cianfrance explored what it means to both fall in and out of love. Widely regarded as one of the best films of 2010, Blue Valentine established Cianfrance as a cinematic talent destined for greatness. His next project sees him reunite with muse Ryan Gosling in what is his most ambitious film yet.

If Blue Valentine was Cianfrance’s answer to the rom-com, then the Place beyond the Pines can be viewed as his unique take on the action thriller. Needless to say, this isn’t Bad Boys; Michael Bay fans need not apply. With Place beyond the Pines, Cianfrance examines the nature of the father son relationship, and highlights the ways in which everyday decisions can impact on an entire legacy.

Ryan Gosling portrays Luke Glanton, a nomadic Moto rider living on the fringes of society. Bradley Cooper plays Avery Cross, an ambitious cop with a powerful father. When Glanton discovers he has a baby son with past fling Rowena (Eva Mendes), he decides to become a father and quits his job as a travelling stuntman. Unable to support his family on minimum wage, Glanton resorts to robbing banks, a decision which changes the lives of both men and their families forever.

The thematic ties between Blue Valentine and Place beyond the Pines are clear. Both films explore the intimate details of human relationships, and make clear the impact of decisions and actions on characters and their families. With Place beyond the Pines, Cianfrance attempts to tie three closely linked stories in order to create one overriding narrative strand. Whilst the film is a success in this regard, its narrative structure highlights some problems.

The first act follows the financial and moral struggles of Glanton as he attempts to reconnect with his family. Gosling is on supreme form, showcasing yet another performance of muted subtlety reminiscent of his magical turn in Drive. Glanton is by far the most interesting character in the film, and his story arc makes for compelling viewing. And therein lies the rub. The first chapter of the film is so damn good that when the focus switches to the character of Avery Cross, one can’t help but feel cheated. While still a related story, the narrative shift is somewhat jarring.

Thankfully Cooper is utterly engrossing as the not entirely likeable Cross. Like Glanton, Cross is trapped in a system against which he struggles desperately. Both men strive to do the right thing, but inevitably fail as the pressure mounts. A brief appearance by Ray Liotta on scintillating form greatly helps the sagging middle section of the film regain momentum.

Where the film most struggles is in its final act, where the children of Glanton and Cross attempt to navigate the pitfalls of the local high school. Thematically, this is where Cianfrance drops his atom bombs. Narratively, however, this is Place beyond the Pines at its weakest point. Despite strong performances throughout, the plot slows to a standstill before working up to the big finale. It’s notoriously difficult to introduce new characters late in a film, so when Cianfrance switches the focus onto two completely unknown protagonists two hours into the film the narrative stalls.
That being said, Place Beyond the Pines excites and delights in equal measure. The high tracking shots of Glanton at one with his motor bike on the deserted rural roads are mesmerising, and linger in the mind long after the credits roll. Tension is sky high during the robbery scenes, and the story arcs of both Glanton and Cross are engaging throughout. Better still is Gosling's post robbery jig with a friends confused dog to the sound of Bruce Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark.

Despite some structural flaws, Place beyond the Pines remains essential viewing. The first hour is quite possibly the finest piece of filmmaking I’ve witnessed this year. Yes, it sags in places, but for the most part the story is riveting, and the acting is undeniably top notch throughout. Highly recommended. 

Darren Aronofsky - A Summary

“I try to live my life where I end up at a point where I have no regrets. So I try to choose the road that I have the most passion on, because then you can never really blame yourself for making the wrong choices.”

Born on the 12^th of February, 1969, Darren Aronofsky isn’t your typical New Yorker. Describing himself as extremely shy, Aronofsky was artistic from a young age. As a child he devoured vast amounts of classic films, and even briefly assumed the occupation of graffiti artist. His journey into the creative world of film was inevitable.

After high school, Aronofsky studied film at Harvard University as well as at the American Film Institute. Indeed, his senior thesis film Supermarket Sweep won numerous awards and Aronofsky himself went on to become a National Student Academy Award finalist. His decision to study film in an academic capacity set Aronofsky on the same course as the original “film school” directors such as Scorsese and Coppola. A classic criticism leveled at contemporary directors “educated” in the art of film is that their features lack substance; their mastery of film form and composition comes at the expense of true emotion and heart. Anyone familiar with the films of Aronofsky, however, will recognise this claim as a falsity.

Upon graduating, Aronofsky began working on his first feature film after friends and family responded positively to a script he had written. Armed with a $60,000 budget derived entirely from donations by friends and family, Aronofsky started shooting Pi in 1998. The completed film was sold to Artisan Entertainment $1 million, and went on to gross over $3 million, winning the best director award at the 1998 Sundance Festival in the process. Aronofsky had arrived.

His follow up, Requiem for a Dream was both a critical and commercial success, and went on to be nominated for an Academy Award. It was in Requiem that Aronofsky first began to employ techniques that would later become his trademarks. Split screen is used extensively, along with the “Snorricam”; a camera attached to an actor over the course of a particularly long take. Often, Aronofsky cuts between extreme close ups and long shots, thus creating a sense of isolation within his characters. Aronofsky noted that a typical 100 minute film contains around 600 to 700 cuts. Requiem however, is comprised of more than 2000; greatly contributing to its breakneck pacing. Inevitably, Requiem garnered controversy over its graphic depictions of drug use and sexual imagery, and Aronofsky's refusal to compromise resulted in an unrated release. The shy artist from New York was making waves.

Then came the blip. After the huge successes of his first two features, Aronofsky, for the first time, had access to a bigger budget, and bigger stars. His third feature, The Fountain, would be his most ambitious film yet; interweaving three non-related stories spanning a thousand years. The Fountain polarised critics, and performed poorly at the box office. Ironically, I believe The Fountain to be Aronofsky's finest work, but at this point it stands as a considerable blot on an otherwise immaculate resume.

Aronofskys first encounter with failure affected him. For his fourth feature, the director went back to basics. The Wrester would be a stripped down, raw account of a man living on the edge. Dubious casting decisions on the part of Aronofsky paid dividends in the long run. The Wrestler opened to huge critical acclaim, with both stars being nominated for Academy Awards. The film also became Aronofsky's biggest critical success of his career to date, grossing over $25 million.

The fifth feature of Aronofsky; Black Swan can be viewed as a companion piece to The Wrestler. Dealing with similar themes, and using many of the same techniques employed in previous Aronofsky films; Black Swan went on to exceed all expectations. Receiving vast critical acclaim, and nominated for five Academy Awards, Black Swan accumulated over $100 million worldwide.

Currently, Aronofsky is hard at work on his latest feature Noah; his interpretation of the story of Noah’s Ark. Shooting began in Iceland on July the 12^th 2012. For his most recent production, Aronofsky has been given a working budget of over $100 million; by far the biggest of his career. Given what the director has achieved in past years on microscopic budgets, the prospect of Noah is very interesting indeed…

To describe Aronofsky as obsessive would perhaps be unfair. Then again, this is a man who has refused to compromise on any of his films thus far, often resulting in budget cuts or unrated feature releases. Indeed, during shooting Aronofsky is rumoured to avoid shaving or cutting his hair until the production process is finished. All five of his films feature characters dealing with strong obsessions that inevitably drive them towards self-destruction. Is Aronofsky holding a mirror to himself in making these powerful pieces of cinema?

Clearly Aronofsky is a man unprepared to compromise when it comes to his passion. Originally attached to direct Batman: Year One in 2002, Aronofsky decided to leave the project in order to start work on The Fountain. Similarly, when asked to direct Batman Begins in 2005, the director passed on the opportunity. Aronofsky also left production of The Wolverine in 2011, and abandoned directing The Fighter last minute in favour of The Wrestler. Aronofsky is a man who is not swayed by fame, commercial success or big budgets; he just wants to make the films he loves so dearly. And that is a quality to be admired by all. 

A Closer Look at The Fountain (2006)

It would seem that relatively few people have actually heard of The Fountain, let alone seen it. Yet, in my humble opinion, Darren Aronofsky's third full length feature was the best film of 2006. So how has a film like The Fountain managed to disappear?

Possibly the rumoured production issues played a part in the films failure to find an audience. Indeed, Hollywood heavyweights Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett were originally cast in the lead roles, with Aronofsky gifted a $70 million budget with which to experiment. However, due to unforeseen circumstances the stars dropped out and were replaced by the significantly less commercial Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. On top of this, the budget was slashed by $35 million.

In addition, the polarised responses of critics surely scared audiences away from The Fountain. Perhaps the concept of the film itself simply didn't appeal to a mass audience. Whatever the reason, The Fountain remains a grossly under-appreciated film.

The Fountain is comprised of three stories which interweave over the course of a thousand years. All three narratives star Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz in the lead roles. The first story is set during the Spanish inquisition, and follows a conquistador’s quest to find the Tree of Life in order to save his beloved Queen. The second tale - the centrepiece of the narrative - concerns a scientist’s desperate attempt to cure cancer, with the intention of saving his dying wife. The third and final piece of the puzzle follows a man travelling through space and into the heart of a dying star, whilst nurturing a slowly decaying tree.

First things first; any reservations about the casting are immediately dispelled. Hugh Jackman shows an emotional depth that I would never have thought him capable of. His is a powerhouse performance of raw emotion. Indeed, it’s hard to believe that this is an actor who made a name for himself playing Wolverine in those boring X-Men movies; this is Hugh Jackman as we have never seen him before. Weisz doesn't disappoint in her various roles either, although she isn't quite operating on the same level as her opposite number. Her performance is eerily reminiscent of her portrayal of Tessa Quayle in The Constant Gardener a year earlier. That isn't to say Weisz is anything less than stellar throughout, but this is well trodden ground for her. This being said, she clearly has great on screen chemistry with fellow star Jackman, a crucial factor in a film dealing so intimately with the love shared by the two characters.

Clint Mansell, long-time collaborator of Aronofsky, returned to create a score for The Fountain, and to devastating effect. Although not quite matching the climatic symphony of Requiem for a Dream, Mansell infuses The Fountain with a suitably melancholic, yet hopeful theme. The score is continually twisted and manipulated to varying degrees for each of the three intertwining stories. It is only in the climax of The Fountain that we are treated to the full, combined effect of Mansell’s orchestration.

Aronofsky himself describes his film as a very simple love story about a man and woman in love, with the woman dying young. He claimed to be inspired by those who die young, and marveled at how they came to terms with their own demise. He recognised, in what he refers to as an incredible tragedy; that the patients would often die more alone because of the inability of their friends and family to fully comprehend what was happening to them. This feeling of isolation is what inspired him to make The Fountain.

Death is an implicit part of life, and for those of us who have experienced one of its many forms The Fountain is sure to resonate profoundly. What can we do when faced with death? This is essentially the question The Fountain attempts to tackle.

The theme of death is clearly prevalent throughout the film. Jackman’s conquistador is willing to do anything in order to prevent the demise of his Queen, even if it ultimately means losing his own life. Similarly, the scientist attempting to cure cancer is clearly doing so with the motivation to save his beloved wife from succumbing to the illness. The third narrative is also closely tied to death; Jackman is trying to save the decaying tree by travelling into the very heart of the dying star. In short, all three stories deal with mankind finding a solution to death.

The search for eternal life is perhaps the ultimate human endeavour. It may take many forms; the quest for the Holy Grail, the cure for cancer, or the search for the Tree of Life. What The Fountain would propose, is that this endeavour is one of futility. The characters of Weisz know this, they suggest that the truth of life is death; it is what makes us special. Immortality itself can only be achieved through death. Indeed, I think one of the taglines of the film was “what if you could live forever?” Although slightly misleading, this is a core theme of The Fountain; the idea that only in death can we truly “live forever”.

The idea of confronting death is prevalent not only in the narrative, but through the subtle manipulation of the films form. The key theme of fearing death is portrayed throughout The Fountain as a journey from darkness into light, which can be seen quite literally by looking at the lighting of the characters. In the beginning, all of Jackman’s characters are kept out of key light; they are only seen in silhouette. As his characters develop and the stories progress, the lighting on Jackman increasingly grows brighter. This is to convey the characters journey from darkness into light, as he finally comes to terms with the idea of death being a part of life. In contrast, the characters of Weisz are flooded with light in all three of the stories; she is already enlightened to the truth of life.

For all of its complexities, The Fountain delivers a profoundly simple message. Despite our great wealth of knowledge, most people are still afraid to die. Like the character of Jackman in the final act, we must confront death alone. In order to truly defeat death, we must simply learn to accept it.

Aronofsky's love poem to death is devastatingly personal film making on an epic scale. Love it or hate it, The Fountain is a film sure to be admired for decades to come.