Category Archives: Columns

When Harry Met Movies: First Impressions — Column

This site lists me as Associate Editor and Co-Chief Film Critic, but a more accurate title might be Executive Film Noob For Life. The Social Network is a film that I should probably watch instead of writing this column, while Seven Samurai and Mulholland Drive are films that I should watch before doing either of those things. I know that Citizen Kane is THE CITIZEN KANE of all films past, present and forthcoming, but don’t ask me to tell you why. I think it’s because there’s a snow globe of particular symbolic weight, but that’s the best I can do. Neither can I tell you anything about Fellini, other than that they’ve got great lunch specials and killer marinara.

In a vain attempt at regaining credibility — admitting that I haven’t seen The Social Network makes such a task more or less insurmountable — I’ll assure you that I can speak somewhat intelligibly about the beginnings of the French New Wave and Claude Chabrol’s La Beau Serge, but that’s only because I saw it for the first time two weeks ago in a film class. The week before that, I discovered Singin’ in the Rain and last Thursday I watched my first Alfred Hitchcock film (Rope).

The gaps in my knowledge of film might be many, but within them lies some degree of excitement — watching things for the first time is always special, particularly if it’s one of those (many) movies I should have seen by now. While everyone else gets to grin slightly at the familiar, decades-old dance numbers of Gene Kelly, I get to watch them with a wide, dumb smile. Similarly, there’s nothing like discovering and delighting in the macabre of Hitchcock, or the perennial freshness of the French New Wave. It’s like that scene from Wonder Woman, when Diana tries ice cream for the first time and tells the vendor that he should be proud of himself (Gene, Alfred, Claude, you all can take a bow).

I bet you wish you could remember the exact moments leading up to that first spoonful of ice cream, the unique joy during it and the “You should be proud of yourself!” after. I bet you wish you could recall the initiating thrills of Star Wars; what it was like to fall for a jump scare in Jaws — I certainly wish I did. Therein lies the upside to the admittedly wide gaps in my film knowledge. I get to preserve the memory of a first viewing more fully, to etch in my mind, in vivid detail, what it was like to fill those gaps.

Of course, not every movie goes down like a gob of Cherry Garcia, but even then, simply leaving the theater is an occasion to remember. The overwhelming relief that flooded me at the end of Transformers: The Last Knight (it was a press screening, so don’t get mad at me for paying for a ticket) is something I won’t want to forget anytime soon, especially since I suffered through its relentless quest of disorientation with one of my best friends from high school — fitting, since our years of secondary education and that franchise can be described with more or less the same words. Most recently, I’ll never forget the mad dash a friend and I made for a consolatory cup of ice cream after mother!, the way we both knew what we wanted as soon as we left the theater, and how I stumbled over my words as I ordered.

I’ve begun ranking movies as I see them, and recording where I saw them. If applicable, I write down the people I saw them with. Movies are an essential part of my life, and I want to remember, if not capture, the feeling of watching them for the first time. I have a lot to catch up on, but that’s not something to be ashamed of since there’s so much joy to be had in filling those gaps. It’s a task whose enormity does not preclude its own infinite capacity to delight, horrify or inspire.

‘When Harry Met Movies’ is a weekly column from Associate Editor and Co-Chief Film Critic Harrison Tunggal about movies that shape us and why we love them.

 

Featured image via MGM.

Opinion: ‘mother!’ shows when cinema goes too far

Trigger Warning: Sexual and physical violence

Warning: I spoil the movie. It may be difficult to fully understand some of what I mean here as I don’t fully explain the plot. Wikipedia has a good summary, if you don’t care to see the movie.

No one has ever made a movie like mother! In terms of craftsmanship, the film is masterful on every single level. The cinematography, editing and sound design all coalesce into a climax that shouldn’t visually work, but somehow does in the most exhilarating of ways. The actors — every single one of them — commit to the story and the “vision” of director Darren Aronofsky. If the Oscars were judged solely based on merit and skill, Aronofsky would be the undeniable Best Director winner.

But it pains me to say all of that because mother! is, at least to me, a deeply horrifying and disgusting film. mother! shows when cinema goes too far.

Aronofsky has a message in his latest film. Well, he has a lot of messages. He comments on humanity both generally and in various specific ways. He shows humanity’s destructive nature on both the individual level and the large scale, through an intimate eye and an epic scope. It’s a message sent and a message received. To some, that message is valuable, and what makes the film so special. In my eyes, it becomes harmful.

Films can absolutely showcase and comment on the terrible aspects of people, on how people can be grossly and horribly damaging. But, as I see cinema, I feel that it is the responsibility of the filmmaker to indict, to firmly make a statement that those things are morally reprehensible, and not just show people being morally reprehensible.

Yet, Aronofsky avoids doing this, specifically in regard to sexual harassment and sexual assault. On many occasions, Jennifer Lawrence’s character is looked at inappropriately, called incredibly offensive things and even groped. Most audiences members, hopefully, will be disgusted by this. And because Aronofsky is making this grander statement that humanity is destructive, for a second, it slips by as another destructive aspect. But there is no indictment. It’s presented as though it’s obvious, as easy to reject. But Aronofsky has the moral responsibility to do the rejecting himself, and he never makes that indictment himself. It’s one thing to show that humanity is destructive. It’s another to indict them for being so.

And that leads me to a larger problem with the way this film presents its commentary. Like I said, it’s stated as obvious. Aronofsky shows us the horrors of mankind as the state of things, as the inner nature of humanity, as inevitable and cyclical. And some may see that as a poignant depiction. In our current times, it’s difficult not to be pessimistic.

But, as I see cinema, a filmmaker can’t just take that stance because a film is inherently subjective. Film is inherently something that the filmmaker presents as their opinion. When Aronofsky offers his opinion — simply, “this is the state of things” — without indictment and without a morality check, it becomes a lazy and regressive opinion.

Don’t get me wrong. A film can end on a pessimistic note. A film can say that things suck and that innocent people are unfairly affected. But — again, this may just be me personally — I have to at least feel that indictment. Think about The Wolf of Wall Street. Some people didn’t like that film because it didn’t sufficiently indict Jordan Belfort for his heinous acts. On the other end, think about Fruitvale Station. The film ends with the tragic death of Oscar Grant at the hands of cops. But the entire film leading up to that point is an indictment of the people and forces in society that could allow for that tragedy to occur.

Indictment can be in theme. It can be in a single moment. It can lie within a single character. It can be presented in its structure or even by a single line of dialogue. Something has to be there. And with mother!, I saw nothing. I felt nothing. Others may have gotten something. But I felt an excessiveness meant to beat us over the head, and I asked “For what cost? Why is this worth it?”

I got no answers.

What I did find, however, was tone deaf male privilege in how Aronofsky approaches his film. Again, filmmakers can make commentary on the poor state of things, and they can use shocking, disturbing and upsetting imagery to do so.

But there’s some imagery that goes too far. There’s some imagery that we should never see, as no message should be worth presenting things so vile — at least in the way that it’s done so here.

As a man, Aronofsky might have given little thought to depicting Jennifer Lawrence’s character being horrifyingly beaten by a crowd, and called a “cunt.” He might’ve thought that it served his message well.

As a man, Aronofsky might have given little thought to depicting a very physical death of an infant. He might’ve thought that it served his message well.

And while, as a man, I don’t personally have connection to these things and I’m not an authority to make a declarative statement, I can understand that there needs to be restraint and extreme care when tackling such content because these are realities and fears of women and mothers. And, as a man, Aronofsky had a responsibility to at least consider his approach because he is not an authority in understanding the impact of those images.

But he presents them so explicitly, directly and viscerally. I don’t know exactly what it is, but there is undoubtedly a way of portraying these things in all three ways, but with a sense of restraint and extreme care, with an awareness that he cannot show these images with singularity. I don’t care how hard it would be to figure out how to do that because it’s his responsibility to.

Some have spoken about how mother! is a subversive studio film, about how critics should think before slamming it as it would discourage a studio from making an original movie that’s so out of the ordinary, that breaks all of the system’s rules.

But I’ll gladly rail against mother! because I don’t want subversive films like this. Movies are more than just their craft. They’re more than just having a message. mother! fails to rectify itself in offensive and embarrassing fashion, and to uphold it as Aronofsky’s masterpiece is, in my opinion, ignorantly ironic. Javier Bardem’s character is a poet and writes a supposed masterpiece. This leads to unbelievable fame that proves incredibly harmful to Jennifer Lawrence’s character. Yet, Bardem’s character shows no care, acknowledgement or awareness of these effects.

In fact, Lawrence’s character literally hands over her heart as she dies so that Bardem’s character can literally restore life from its ashes and do it all again to another woman. He’s not punished. He’s unchanged. It was a moment where Lawrence’s character could’ve rejected him, resulting in indictment and punishment — but Aronofsky is oblivious to that.

Don’t hand over your praise, your hearts to Aronofsky. Don’t let him harm people. Don’t let him do it again. “For the sake of the art” is not a good enough reason.

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