Javier Bardem (left to right), Jennifer Lawrence, and Michelle Pfeiffer in Venice
Jennifer Lawrence
MOTHER! B
USA (121 mi) 2017
‘Scope d: Darren Aronofsky Official
Site [France]
Well there’s at least one man that would love to see a
return of Roman Polanski to the United States, and that would be director
Darren Aronofsky, as he seems to worship at the feet of this noted Polish director,
as while watching this film, other films that come to mind are Roman Polanski's
REPULSION (1965), Rosemary's
Baby (1968), and THE NINTH GATE (1999), where the mood and tone are
similar, creating a central character where the world is pushing back at them
from all sides, forcing them to carry immense weight, which becomes too much of
a psychological burden, eventually breaking under the pressure, creating
cataclysmic fissures in the way they perceive the world around them, turning
luridly offensive and grotesque, as if caught in a nightmarish dream
world. Just a coincidence? Probably not. While what distinguishes this
film, which has instantly become an incendiary talking point on social media,
is that it is like nothing else, mindboggling and disturbing, yet two other
films come to mind that also deserve mention.
The granddaddy of all religious satire belongs to Luis Buñuel,
particularly an infamous “Last Supper” sequence in VIRIDIANA (1961) where all
hell breaks loose, literally, set to the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah.
This film borrows liberally from that original idea and expands on it in
new ways, creating a world of horrifying monstrosity, where there’s just no
stopping the evil ways of mankind. And
finally someone must mention the Epilogue
in Fassbinder’s mammoth epic BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ (1980), at 15 and a
half-hours, still considered the longest narrative film ever made, ending with
a two-hour fantasy sequence that breaks with the unprecedented realism in the
preceding 13-hours, becoming a series of fragmented, illusory imaginings from
the deteriorating mind of the central character, suddenly exploding into a
minefield of phantasmagorical images of carnage and human wreckage. These previous cinematic conceptions lay a
groundwork for this film, which attempts to take you where no one else has
gone. While that’s debatable, it’s clear
this is a highly toxic yet visionary work that fuels cinematic debates
concerning what it’s about, while also reminding us that once a film is
released, the director no longer controls the process, as it’s in the hands of
audiences that might have their own ideas about what they’ve just
witnessed. That is the power of art,
that it’s highly subjective, where each work’s place in history is as volatile
as the shifting winds of time, as many films considered out of favor in one period
have been elevated to masterworks in other time periods. And while DVD’s and streaming networks allow
films greater access, there are simply some films that defy commercialization,
Hou Hsiao-hsien’s A
City of Sadness (Bei qing cheng shi) (1989), for instance, which still has
no version with English subtitles, or the Beatles’ LET IT BE (1970), Dennis
Hopper’s THE LAST MOVIE (1971), John Sayles’ CITY OF HOPE (1991), Raul Peck’s The
Man On the Shore (L’Homme sur les quais), Naomi Kawazi’s SUZAKU (1997),
Pascale Breton’s ILLUMINATION (2004), along with a slew of Valerio Zurlini and
Jacques Rivette films, or even the chronologically edited GODFATHER series that
curiously did screen on television once in 2012 in a high-definition version,
for instance (and there are so many others), that have simply never been
released on DVD, so their place in the pantheon of cinema history remains an
open question, as they haven’t been scrutinized by a wider audience.
It should be stated that much of this is drop dead
hilarious, despite the severity of the subject matter, where this is truly a
divine comedy, where it would not be surprising if in some future millennium
this film might be chosen as a visionary work, lightyears ahead of its time,
but beaten down and fallen prey to a drumbeat of critics that either want to
condemn it as worthless, sheer lunacy, or ostracize it altogether as an
off-the-fringe outlier that fails to benefit the public in any recognizable
way. While some films will always
deserve this kind of critical purgatory, I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (1978) anyone?,
this is not one of them, as it’s ambitious as hell, layered with an
extraordinary amount of ambiguity, while the story itself and the way it’s
expressed defies anything else coming out of Hollywood, where it has such an
edge and attitude about it that you have to wonder how this ever made it through? The film is a cosmic expression of humanity
as an Edenesque Lost Paradise given a
Sisyphean tone of futility, showing how we inevitably lose our way, despite the
presence of the church, and more specifically, THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, rules
supposedly handed down by God to help guide us on a path of righteousness, yet
we continually get sidetracked, developing an obsession with false prophets,
often deluding ourselves, where our destructive capacity apparently has no
bounds, with plenty of saber rattling and war mongering officials leading the
charge. In the Biblical stories of Sodom
and Gomorrah, God was so angered that He destroyed the world, sending massive
floods, allowing the world to begin anew, starting fresh. But if history has told us anything, it is
that those who don’t learn from the past are destined to repeat the same
mistakes. Despite our capacity for
knowledge and systematic education, including a stunning curiosity for
planetary explorations and other scientific missions heading into dark space
beyond our solar system, we remain inhibited by our basic instincts, as we
still commit crimes, fly into a rage, and brutally suppress others, often
resorting to atrocities as a means to an end, thinking only of ourselves and
what we want to accomplish, using money and power to obtain even more power,
becoming insatiated by it, paying too little attention to the needs of
others. Sheer chaos and anarchy is what
the world would look like without order, and this film offers a before and
after view, where the results are startling.
Aronofsky seems to specialize in a cinema of discomfort, where the last
15-minutes of REQUIEM FOR A DREAM (2000), for instance, one of his most highly
acclaimed movies, is nearly unwatchable due to the intensity of the nightmarish
experience he realizes onscreen, where it closely resembles a bad acid trip,
listed at #9 in this unique poll, 9.
Requiem for a Dream (2000) - The 50 Most Disturbing Movies of All .... Despite one’s reservation with the raw and
graphic horror of drug addiction, the film has redeeming qualities, with the
lead actress nominated for an Academy Award.
Despite the popularity of Jennifer Lawrence, the lead actress and
director’s current girlfriend, she’s not likely to earn similar honors, though
she risks plenty with this performance, even breaking an arm during the
filming. By paying so much attention to a
dark and ugly side of humanity, few will actually “like” this film, though
audiences can appreciate it in much the same way as people today praise
Pasolini’s SALÒ (1976), as they are gutsy attempts to expose our darkest
impulses by graphically exposing an inherent barbarism that normally never sees
the light of day.
Perhaps the film this comes closest to is the director’s own
THE FOUNTAIN (2006), where a prominent theme is “Death, as an act of creation,”
while also showcasing his girlfriend at the time, Rachel Weisz, as his muse,
playing a character of eternal light while her overly grim husband, whose
single-minded purpose makes him completely oblivious to others, is absorbed
with the constant presence of death, searching for a scientific cure that never
comes. In much the same way, Jennifer
Lawrence plays a Madonna figure, defined by her innocence and eternal love,
while her husband, known as Poet (Javier Bardem), is a failing writer consumed
in the bitterness of his own shortcomings, while also professing eternal love,
though he fails to live up to it. At
least initially it’s beautifully written, where a series of characters knock at
the door and suddenly take over her house and home, first Ed Harris, followed
by an utterly sublime performance by Michelle Pfeiffer (where have you been?),
which is only a warm up for what’s to follow.
Yet the internalized friction and overt antagonism caused by the guest’s
total disdain in following normal guest protocol is overwhelming, reaching
states of delirium, where they actually seem to be taunting her, like Rosemary's
Baby, treating her with blatant disregard.
When their kids show up, a Cain and Abel tag team of fighters, all hell
breaks loose, breaking furniture and whatever else stands in their way,
altering the mood to such an extent that it initially seems humorous, but that
is quickly remedied when one of them murders the other, bringing the house to a
sense of calm only after they’ve left for a hospital, as at that point he’s
only bleeding to death. The Poet goes
with them, allowing the film to completely embrace Lawrence’s character, where
strange things start to happen, as reality is altered and distorted by her
elevated paranoia and fears, embracing Catherine Deneuve in REPULSION. By the time the family returns, this time
filling the home with unwanted guests attending the wake, she’s already on the
edge, but is pushed to the limit, as people intentionally disobey her instructions,
literally wrecking the plumbing, as an exploding water leak drives the crowd
away. Get it? The flood.
In the midst of an ensuing argument about how he abandoned her, the
couple engages in sex on the staircase, continuing into their bedroom, where
she awakens fully cognizant she is pregnant, where the couple gets a new
start. Almost simultaneously, this
breaks his writer’s block, suddenly an unstoppable force, and within minutes,
amusingly, he’s a published author, with first Kristen Wiig arriving at their
door as his publisher, somehow showing knowledge of personal intimacy between
them, then heaps more disdain on his now visibly pregnant wife, as crowds
suddenly arrive at the door, unstoppable and unending, showing mad devotion to
her husband, as if he’s a cult savant, eventually breaking into the house and
taking whatever they want, reiterating his verse, share and share alike,
claiming it all belongs to them, not her, basically stealing them out of house
and home, where they can’t find a single solitary space that hasn’t been invaded
by the mob, with people breaking through windows and Wiig absurdly leading a
military assassination team, leaving plenty of dead bodies in her wake. This heinous attack causes panic and mass
confusion, ideal conditions for the birth.
From there things only deteriorate further, growing more and more
feverish, where the Poet clearly loves the attention and can’t separate himself
from his adoring fans, even when it’s destroying whatever beating pulse is left
in his wife, attacked and disfigured, clawing her way over people, fighting for
her life, but all for naught, eventually exploding into an apocalyptic fire and
brimstone spectacle, suddenly turning into a Twilight Zone episode where it mysteriously rewinds and plays out
all over again. Breaking all rules,
making no capitulation whatsoever for commercialism, this film is well worth
the experience, as it’s an artist’s dream, even if it never rises to levels of
transcendence.
