Being in-between

I just finished watching The Fountain, a film by Darren Aronofsky. My roommate warned me that he heard it was a horrible movie, an judgment based almost entirely on his opinion of the director alone and his past films (Pi, Requiem for a Dream) which he found boring and pretentious. Having never seen his previous films, I was primarily interested The Fountain for the cinematography and visuals alone, but the premise sounded intriguing as well: three parallel narratives from three different centuries, each in which a man seeks the promise of eternal life while facing his own mortality through the lens of his dying love.

Opinions about this film swing wildly across the spectrum. Some have called it middling, boring, and incomprehensible, while others hail it as an ambitious masterpiece, stunning and elegant. It’s no doubt that the film is a visual treat, especially any sequence within the nebula scenes, and the film’s detractors are usually willing to grant it that at least (though there’s surprisingly less CGI in this film than you’d think). The haunting score pulls the film forward as well, tying the three parallel stories together. But would I say this is a good film? I think the problem with that question is that my criteria for what makes for an enjoyable film doesn’t neccessarily apply here, as The Fountain isn’t so much a film story as it is a film experience.

I had trouble wrapping my mind around the plot presented, as I’m one to easily poke holes in a narrative that doesn’t hold up. Yet I found myself not caring in this case. Instead, I was overwhelmed not just by the presentation of the film, but the timeless themes it addressed, albeit rather incoherently. I’d classify it as a sort of cinematic poetry, in that it needn’t be standard prose to get the point across, but rather just a collection of emotive pinpricks that paints an ethereal picture unique to each individual. It was akin to waking up from a very powerful dream, one that in hindsight was not entirely comprehensible, but leaves a resonance that is unattainable by anything in reality.

So does this film make sense? Not in any way that could be fully explained away. There were delicate narrative strands that held the story together, but clearly they were not enough based on the film’s bipolar reception. As for myself, I came away from the film torn between my need for a concrete explanation to stand on, and the strange feelings of emotional kindling from the overall experience. But I suppose fulfillment isn’t neccessarily found just in getting the answers spoon-fed to you. There is great value to be found in just being immersed in the experience and reacting to what’s in front of you, whether you can grasp the answers or not.

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*I never got around to writing my thoughts about Synecdoche, New York, but thinking about it now, it would probably have sounded alot like this.

~ by sliny on May 18, 2009.