The Fountain (2006) Sci-fi religious fun

A film which is 484 on Empire’s list of 500 Greatest Films you’d think, even for it’s low rank, might have achieved more widespread acknowledgement, but having bought Darren Aronofsky’s 2006 sci-fi adventure for £3 this weekend, no-one I’ve spoken to seems to have heard of it. To be fair neither had I, but for £3 I thought it was worth a watch.

Originally, The Fountain started filming in 2002 with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett on a huge studio funded budget, which was slashed and the project abandoned when Aronofsky wouldn’t incorporate Pitt’s script amends. Production started again in 2005 with Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz as the leads and a severely reduced budget – all of which promoted a creative flair for effects without (refreshingly) the need for CGI.

The Fountain follows three interwoven narratives that take place in the age of conquistadors, the modern-day period, and the far future. Jackman’s character is a futuristic astronaut, a modern day research scientist and Spanish conquistador, who journey’s through time attempting to stop the fate of his beloved “Izzi”. The film discusses themes of life, rebirth, mortality and our eternal relationships.

Aronofsky uses a quote from Genesis to start The Fountain making clear reference to the two trees in the garden of Eden; the tree of knowledge and the tree of life. The latter was hidden and protected after the fall of man. The fall of man separated man from maker with “death” ultimately being what makes us unique as only we can experience it and it is the force which re-unites us with our maker.

Jackman’s character as the conquistador literally seeks the Tree of Life out of the Guatemalan Mayan pyramids and jungles. As a scientist, he desperately seeks the scientific knowledge to “cure” death, treating it like “any other disease”. It’s only as the yoga-practising, futuristic astronaut, haunted by visions of Izzi, that he accepts that death is the only way to be re-united with both maker and his eternal love. Ironically as an astronaut he travels with a tree, similar to the Tree of Life in the Mayan temple, which dies moments before he chooses his fatal ending.

There is a precise and calculated use of repeated imagery throughout The Fountain: the stars hanging in the distance space behind the orb-space craft, the hanging candles of the Spanish palace and the astrological research Izzi delights in at the lab all show a hidden agenda between showing the relationship between light and dark: life and death. The use of light is also part of the physical presence of the actors with Jackman existing in the shadows and Izzi highlighted and pinpointed by shards of light (in the snow filled doorway, in the museum sunbeam, in the palace throne) to further separate the two lovers.

The film ends as Xibalba (the dying star of the Mayan underworld) collapses and supernovas destroying and scattering the astronaut’s body into the dead tree rejuvenating it. In the present day the scientist is seen planting a tree seed over Izzi's grave, symbolising his acceptance of his wife's death. At the same moment, in the sky above, we see Xibalba's supernova event.

The Fountain is difficult to get into, this is coming from someone who loves films which don’t offer easy or obvious narratives, so you can understand my point. The narrative feels too jarred to seamlessly interweave the three stories. The use of imagery and effects is impressive, especially for the creative alternatives to CGI, but the cinematography of the film is a bit overbearing at times.

I get that we are steadily taken from darkness into light, it’s just that that dichotomy is too broken by having to switch from the dark and light parts of the story. The visual style obviously has to be sacrificed in order to interweave the narrative, otherwise it would be very boring, predictable and linear. It’s just the conquistador’s Mayan adventure is sooo dark and the supernova moment with the astronaut is sooo light that’s it’s unpleasantly obvious.

I love the idea that Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchet were almost the lead roles, it seems impossible they would have been appropriate after watching Jackman and Weisz. Blanchet I think would have been too ethereal and mysterious (too tempting to slip into ‘Galadrial’ I suspect) for the role of Izzi - this would have made it so much harder to relate to her as real, dying person. Pitt, even though I think he’s a credible actor, wouldn’t have managed the broody, dark persona that Jackman seems to so easily create. Not that Jackman turns into a pseudo Wolverine, far from it, there are glimmers of genuine vulnerability and innocence in his performance, I think it’s more his onscreen, physically presence is far more suited than Pitt’s.

Best scene: Hugh Jackman entering Xibalba and his body pouring away like sand, it reminded me of ‘Sunshine’ and is a mind-etchingly vibrant moment in the film.

Score: 3.5 out of 5, very interesting to try and work it out and lots of great acting, just not sure I got the point of it without the help of the Internet.

Blue Velvet - Modern Folklore 2

This week we had a deep dive into the world of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet. As a mere film geek and not ‘buff’ my understanding is somewhat limited, so I was keen to see what the other geeks on my course thought – and especially what our course leader, Jake, thought.

Jake explained that after the success/failure of Dune Lynch was willing to take a substantial pay cut to have full creative control over Blue Velvet (1986) and this film ultimately became the first full narrative. Lynch’s “final cut” demands were not written into the contract, just to secure the studio control over future directors, but the studio boss was happy to shake on it and a gentleman’s agreement was made.

Here’s what the others thought about Blue Velvet:

Blue Velvet is Jeffrey’s dream – the narrative starts by entering the severed, grotesque ear where the audience descends into the dreamlike, psychological world of Jeffrey, where the other characters “act out” Jeffrey’s deepest, darkest desires, the narrative then ends with the camera panning out of his ear.

This theory does explain some of the stinted melodrama, the unreal reactions from people and the calm way in which Jeffrey paces through the events of the film, it also explains the nightmarish, surreal moments with Ben (Dean Stockwell). It also helps define the over male desire, the whore/angel representation of women and the Freudian scenes with Frank and Dorothy. However, the film’s overly kitsch, Americana ending is outside of the dream, the narrative has left the ear. Does this suggest that the outside world is more artificial than the truth we find in our dreams? Maybe.

Product placements – Heinekken or Budweiser? Joke or paid product placement? With Lynch, unlikely to be the latter. This discussion of the everyday, the normal products Joe Public enjoys paved a new “Lynchian tone” which others like Tarrantino developed – Pulp Fiction, gangsters discussing the merits of cheeseburgers while on a killing spree.

It’s a “joy ride” of a film – the phrase Frank delights in screaming at Jeffrey whilst at Ben’s place is one way to describe the emotional registers within the film. Starts out as a kind of Nancy Drew teen mystery drama, but as soon as Jeffrey witnesses Frank and Dorothy in the apartment Lynch pulls the carpet from under the audience. Jeffrey’s disbelieve and un-real “calm” is delayed shock, things have escalated so far out of control Jeffrey is now the voice of the audience. The scenes swing rapidly from the horrific to the comic to the sexual.

Post modern director – the 70s TV cop show references with the car chases, the hub caps spinning away, the melodrama point to Lynch being a post modern director, drawing more inspiration from television rather than cinema history.

Love story – for Jeffrey the “love interest” is one woman split into two personalities, played by two women (another Lynchian tone, see Mulholland Drive for doubles) The two women merge into one love when Dorothy shows up naked, beaten and vulnerable at Sandy’s house. The sexual dominator is cast to damsel in distress and his innocent; girl next door is now the object of his adult feelings of true love. Frank is a sentimentalist (arguably) he coverts the small piece of velvet from Dorothy’s coat, he cries as she sings her songs. Frank is a man so in love he has no other way to handle these over powering emotions than through violence. As he turns to Jeffrey he shouts, “you’re just like me” where in turn Jeffrey punches him, fulfilling the circle and becoming like Frank – he has already changed from innocent bystander to aggressive lover (already consenting to hit Dorothy during intercourse).

Fantasy – Frank acts out his fantasies, it’s mechanistic, the bourbon, the dark, “it has to be dark”, the robe, the lipstick and the music. Frank puts these things in place to start the fantasy. This view leads the audience to suspect he may have raped Jeffrey during the “joy ride scene” as these fantasy elements are slowly put into place. Whose fantasy is this? Jeffrey’s voyeur fantasy? Dorothy’s domination fantasy? Frank’s fantasy of masochism and who does the audience identify with? Or this Lynch’s fantasy to pull the audience into this world, to provoke a reaction from them, to start a debate, to make you watch the darker side of society?

Violence – Jeffrey’s moral code is rejected with shockingly quick speed – he goes from out right, offended objection to hitting Dorothy to violently striking her in a matter of narrative minutes, the moment he loses his innocence the screen fills with flames and the audience is thrust into this troubling life of Jeffrey. Lynch’s idea is to make the audience focus on this horrifying violence, if you were to have no reaction to these disturbing scenes then you’re the disturbing aspect of society. Lynch is not like Scorsese who casually passes over violence towards women, he in contrast makes the audience dwell, focus, become involved with the violence (through us identifying with Jeffrey).

Exploiting the audience – could have been a fair reaction from 1980s audiences used to slasher horror movies, entirely there to exploit, scare and shock the audience. An 80s audience could have assumed Blue Velvet was a post modern way for Lynch to exploit, scare and shock his audience – but this doesn’t ring true, the violence is not graphic, Lynch is asking the audience to think, to be engaged by the unsettling aspects of this film, not merely exploit the emotions temporarily. The disturbing part of the film is not the violence, it’s the un-natural fragmentation, and it’s inglorious portrayal of nudity, the tender innocence behind monstrous characters.

Week 5 - The Non Filmstar Filmstar Continues...

So what other techniques have directors employed to keep the audiences' focus on the narrative and not on the actors? Well, how about cramming as many stars as you can into one film so the audience is overwhelmed with stars? Robert Altman's film Gosford Park (2001) reads as a veritable who's who of British stars: Steven Fry, Maggie Smith, Richard E Grant, Helen Mirren, Michael Gambon, Clive Owen, Emily Watson, Alan Bates etc the list just goes on and on. And don't be fooled to think the bigger stars are "upstairs" as Helen Mirren rules the "downstairs" while Countess of Trentham (Maggie Smith) is indebted to her maid, Mary played by Kelly McDonald. And that's part of the joke, neither upstairs or downstairs can survive without each other and the interesting power plays that occur between this hierarchical household.

The opening scene of Gosford Park is brilliant, Constance (Maggie Smith) slips into her Bentley (almost unnoticed by the audience) and on route she encounters another party on their way to the house. Matinee idol Ivor Novello and his friend Hollywood producer Morris Weissman, clearly offended that someone of such low rank should presume to speak to her she cuts short the pleasantries to continue on her way. Her maid Mary (Kelly McDonald) plays the role of the audience, she is oblivious to social rank and in awe of this "star" being in such close proximity.

Finally it’s back to subversive genius Stanley Kubrick and his 1968 masterpiece, 2001 A Space Odyssey. Set in the distant future (eight years ago) a team of astronauts are on spaceship Discovery One bound for Jupiter with the ship’s on-board computer HAL 9000, addressed as "Hal" and voiced by Douglas Rain, who has human-like intelligence and runs most of the ship’s operations. The lead characters are Dr. David Bowman played by Keir Dullea and Dr. Francis Poole played by Gary Lockwood. Lockwood and Dullea? Who? Exactly.

Kubrick knew the power of the “star” that’s why he chose to use actors almost unrecognisable to the audience, that way the force of the narractive, the action, the protagnist could be a faceless computer. Brave move. Kubrick manipulated stars for other films: The Shining built on Jack Nicholson’s already proven reputation for being “crazy” and Eyes Wide Shut seeks to subversivly emasculate the ultimate “lead man” Tom Cruise.

It’s an interesting tactic: either a director can bamboozle an audience with too many film star’s for them to focus on, or they can remove them entirely. I’ve always enjoyed films where I don’t recognise the lead. The best example was when I first saw the Motorcycle Diaries, I had no idea who Mexican actor Gael García Bernal, and Argentine actor Rodrigo de la Serna were so I could easily accept they were Che and Alberto Granado and this in turn meant I could comfortably believe the actions and narrative of the film without thinking, isn’t Bernal convincing as Che? However, with Che Part 1 and 2 released and starring Benicio Del Toro I think I won’t have the same response… isn’t he that lawyer from Fear and Loathing?

Week 5 - Jaws The Non Filmstar Filmstar

Week 4 is epic, so I'm holding off writing about that until I've got time to do it justice. However Week 5 was much more easy to digest.

This week we talked about films which were actively anti-film star. I'm not talking indie films, world cinema or foreign films, I'm talking about regular block buster movies which deliberately chose to use actors who were unknown. Sam asked us to name films which had taken this status and to honest it was difficult to do. I've seen many quirky independent films which, probably through cost restraints chose to make the "story the star" rather than hire the big names, but I couldn't think of any mainstream cinema hits. Hmmm.
The first example we watched was Spielberg’s Jaws (1975), the films producers (in agreement from Spielberg) Zanuck and Brown decided to ignore the pleas from Charlton Heston to play Police Chief Martin Brody and instead pick Roy Scheider (sadly passed away this year if anyone caught the BAFTAs). We watched the "you're going to need a bigger boat scene" and studied the way the actors appear on screen. Schieder doesn't demonstrate any of the stylised movements of typical "stars" of the era - he's positively clumsy and shark hunter Quint (Robert Shaw) mocks him in the dialogue. The three men (Brody, Quint and Hooper) have a similar presence on screen - even though Quint is the obvious leader (upwards shots of him in the crows nest signify this) he calls Brody "chief" over and over to re-iterate the audience who the lead is. Can you imagine if Charlton Heston had been the lead? How many close ups? How much over stage presence he would have had? Because, let's face it, Jaws is the real star and as much as I would have liked to see him try and attack Charlton Heston, it just seems weird now.