Noah... This Is God. Riiiiight.

That's a Bill Cosby reference for those who don't know. Anyways, it looks like Hollywood has done it again. After Mel Gibson showed them that there are billions of dollars waiting for anyone willing to make religious films, Hollywood set out to exploit this market. But their efforts haven’t been well received. Why? Because they keep messing with the message.

The latest example of this is the film Noah, which is making the rounds now. This film has pissed off bunches of Christian and Muslim groups – Muslims apparently consider Noah a prophet. It’s gotten so bad actually that the film team has sent out their cast to do damage control.

This may sound familiar. Whenever a film angers people who love some “property,” they trot out the actors to assure everyone that they have stuck strictly to the source material, and those complaining are just crazy whiners. Hence, the cast and crew of The Lord of the Rings ran around swearing that they all carried copies of The Lord of the Rings with them on set and that if there was some dispute about how the book went compared to the script, they would sit down and make sure they followed the book precisely. Yeah, that was a lie.

When Nicole Kidman starred in The Golden Compass, she actually ran around telling people how Catholic she was and how she would never ever ever do any film that was anti-Catholic or which promoted atheism. That was a lie too. In fact, while she was saying this, the writer-director was busy assuring the atheist community that he would not water down the book’s anti-Catholic, pro-atheist messages. And indeed, he didn’t.

There are many other examples, particularly involving religious films, where Hollywood puts out a film that is so not what the Bible says or what Christians believe yet they swear on their dark little hearts that those people complaining are the crazies. And that brings us to Noah.

You know the story of Noah, right? Noah was a meek man who was contacted by God to build an ark. I believe he sold insurance. Humanity had gone awry and God intended to wash the evil out of them with extreme prejudice. Noah was told to build an ark and fill it with heterosexual livestock. Noah was in a bit over his head, but he managed. He also tried to warn those around him, but they wouldn’t listen because they was busy fornicatin’. Then bamo! God goes all Erwin Allen! Rain, floods, evildoers washed away... the slate is wiped clean. Finally, the waters recede. Noah lands his Ark in Turkey and he opens the doors to release the animals and the people to go forth and never do evil again.

That’s basically the story that billions of people know and believe. That’s the story you get from the Bible and the Koran (with a few “dirty infidels!” thrown in). But that’s not the story Hollywood made.

From quotes gleaned from people who’ve seen the film and from the cast, this Noah is a Biblical grade ASSHOLE. Seriously, he’s a monster. At one point, his son even rebels against him, saying, “I thought you were chosen because you were kind.” To which, Noah like the Dark Knight responds, “I was chosen because I can get the job done.” Seriously, could anyone in their right mind picture Noah as the Dark Knight? He’s supposed to be meek and kind. He’s supposed to be out of his league. He spends his time trying to warn all the people who mock him as if he were in Revenge of the Nerds. That's part of the message -- that God picks people you overlook to deliver his message. Noah is not a bad-ass action hero. Nor is he a colossal jerk. Interestingly, they also never use the word “God” in this film.

So why would Russell Crowe act the character this way? Why would director Darren Arnofsky allow/choose this? Because to them, these stories are fiction. To Christians and Muslims, they are fact. And that difference is key. If these stories are fiction, then you can improve them and make them more entertaining. Sure, let’s make Noah into a warrior or King of the Assholes, it will add some great fight scenes when he holds off the Orc invaders and it will add dramatic gold when he reconciles with his gay son... I smell an Oscar. But if you see these stories as fact, then any change is an affront to reality. Making changes or filling in the gaps with obviously fake “interpretations” is as fraudulent and insulting to you as it would be to liberal Baby Boomers to add a gay sex shower scene to a JFK biography or have Obama selling crack out the back of the White House in his inevitable biography.

That’s really what’s going on here. When Hollywood has made religious films that stick to the material, no matter how messed up that material may seem to nonbelievers, the believers have responded with an outpouring of love and cash. But when they’ve treated these stories as fiction to be massaged, they’ve failed.

And then to send out the cast and lie about what they’ve done just adds insult to injury.

Thoughts.

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Film Friday: Black Swan (2010)

Academy Awards are not a measure of greatness. To the contrary, they’re often better at marking films you should avoid. Black Swan received five nominations and won for Best Actress. Bad sign. Add in that this was billed as a snotty, behind-the-scenes, “insider” look at the world of ballet, plus my displeasure with Darren Aronofsky over The Wrestler, The Fountain and Below, and this looked like a loser. Imagine my surprise when I watched this and found it to be one of the best films in years. Seriously.

On its surface, Black Swan is the story of ballet dancer Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) who has won the role of the black/white swan in the play “Swan Lake.” She is plagued with doubts, a sexually harassing director (Vincent Cassel), a jealous stage-mom, and a young competitor Lily (Mila Kunis) with effortless natural talent. The story begins right before she wins the role and ends after her first performance. Sounds thrilling, doesn’t it?

Actually, this is a classic example of the marketing not quite telling you what the story is really about. In truth, this isn’t about ballet at all. It’s a psychological thriller. And you should give this film a chance without thinking it’s a film about sniping at a ballet. You won’t be disappointed. Before I continue down this path, however, let me put up the spoiler warning because pretty much anything I talk about after this point will be a genuine spoiler:

** Spoiler Alert – I recommend seeing this film before continuing. **

One of the first things to strike you when you watch this film is how nasty everyone seems. Cassel is a sexual harasser who thinks he has the right to openly demand that his leading ladies sleep with him. He’s smarmy, rotten, and indifferent to the harm he’s doing to these women. His last conquest, who he has apparently forced into retirement, lives in a perpetual jealous rage. Sayers’ mother is like a living version of Norman Bates’ mother. She watches Sayers like a hawk, even creeping into her room at night, and keeps her trapped in the apartment. She also pounds Sayers with constant barbs about how she gave up her career as a dancer to raise Sayers. Lily is even worse. She’s a flirt and everyone loves her, and she seems to try very hard to befriend Sayers, but this just hides her betrayal.

All of this gets woven together so wonderfully that my first thought watching the film was that Sayers was truly alone, surrounded by hateful people all with their own agendas, who are trying to destroy her to satisfy their own perverse desires. And as their actions become more extreme, this film seemed headed toward a spectacular explosion.

But you soon start to realize something is wrong with Sayers. In fact, the plot moves so expertly that you don’t see the signs until you are deeply within her psychosis. For example, we see excessive shyness and social awkwardness, but it doesn’t seem outrageous. We see a rash, which she scratches, and her mother obsessing over her scratching it. We see her sneak into the star’s dressing room and steal her lipstick because she’s dreaming about being a star. It seems harmless. None of this raises our suspicions, especially because her conduct seems to be a response to the nasty, aggressive people around her.

Soon we start to see the truth. She is intensely frigid to the point of being obsessive. And her view of the others as sexual predators may not be true at all. For example, Sayers sees Cassel as a sexual predator, yet he never actually forces himself on her. She sees Lily the same way, but maybe Lily’s just flirty and is genuinely trying to be nice? That rash? It’s no rash. She cuts herself and doesn’t remember doing it. The stolen lipstick? It’s part of an eerie stalker-like collection. And then you have the visions. When they begin, you think she’s simply mistaking one person for someone else she knows. But as they progress, it becomes clear they are paranoid visions of herself, and soon we don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.

Usually when actors try to play crazy, they shift around nervously to make themselves appear different or do something maniacal while saying things that make no sense. The idea is to standout and seem abnormal. Here, Portman and Director Aronofsky do the reverse. Rather than make Portman act crazy, she acts sane and troubled by the crazy actions of the others around her, each of whom seems slightly over-the-top and exaggerated. Thus, while Portman seems sane, it’s only because we don’t understand at first that we are seeing the world from her perspective.

The visions are the perfect example of this. Rather than treating the visions as real and overacting to them, as is typically done, Portman very cleverly, through her acting not her words, tells the audience that she knows these are visions and knows they aren’t real. This adds an incredible amount of depth to her portrayal of insanity. For one thing, this feels more real because this is how most people probably fear insanity would creep upon them, i.e. that they would slowly lose touch with reality rather than it all happening at once. For another, it allows the audience to feel her insanity because they are just as confused about reality as she is. Indeed, rather than being an observer watching her rant and rave, we are a participant trying to figure out what is going on. Finally, it makes the audience feel her despair because she clearly needs help, but there’s nothing the audience can do to help her. Any film that can pull an audience into a character and make them feel the emotions of the character is brilliant and Aronofsky and Portman achieve that here through their brilliant choice to understand her insanity.

I think there are some excellent lessons here. If you want to portray insanity, focus on how the insane person sees the world. Remember that for many insane people, it’s everybody else who’s crazy. And crazy need not be stark raving mad. Portman and Aronofsky should be commended for this film. It’s one of the best I’ve seen in years.

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Film Friday: The Wrestler (2008)

When I first saw Darren Aronofsky’s π, I thought Aronofsky deserved watching. π was fresh and interesting, though ultimately unfulfilling. So when he did The Fountain, I was excited. Then I saw it. Then I saw it again, just to make sure it was as horrible as I’d remembered. It was. So, naturally, I went into The Wrestler with low expectations. They weren’t low enough. This film has nothing original to offer and even less to care about. The plot is clichéd and trite and the main character is pathetic and unlikeable. It is a pointless character study about a character we don’t care about. Even the directing is poor.

** spoiler alert **

The Plot Is Ultra-Clichéd

The Wrestler follows a few weeks in the life of a Randy the Ram (Mickey Rourke). His life is pathetic and he knows it, but he can’t see himself doing anything else. Once famous, Randy now is washed up (sound familiar a hundred times over?) and is reduced to playing the local wrestling circuit to crowds that can be counted in the single digits. After a near death experience, Randy is told he can’t wrestle any more. Sensing his own mortality (though he really will only die if he wrestles), Randy goes to a strip club and confesses to aging stripper Cassidy (Marisa Tomei) that he no longer wants to be alone. She advises him that, like all dying movie characters, he should make up with his estranged daughter.

Of course, that doesn’t go well at first. So he buys the daughter a gift, which naturally clears up 20 years of hate instantaneously. He then continues a halfhearted pursuit of the stripper. Cassidy resists his vile charms until she realizes her looks are fading. Suddenly, she decides to settle for trailer trash, drug addict Randy because he would make a good father to her son. She knows this because her son likes Randy’s action figure. But too late, she learns that Randy has -- and you will never see this coming -- decided to wrestle in one final match. Oh my!

So she hops in her car and speeds down state to save her dearly-be-settled. No sooner does she arrive, than Randy tells her he must wrestle. So she leaves, because that’s what you do when the person you want to settle down with wants to make a mistake. Randy/Rourke then breaks character and gives the audience a speech that carefully lays out Randy’s motivation -- because you probably didn’t pick this up when the plot was beating you over the head with it. He starts to wrestle, appears to have a heart attack, and then Aronofsky goes all film school creative on us, in ways that you haven’t seen in at least a couple weeks.

The Real Problem Lies In Randy’s Indifferent Character

Aside from the plot, the real problem with this film lies in Randy’s character. Randy is a man who makes bad decisions, has a pathetic life, and meets others who also make bad decisions. What's the message? Don’t make bad decisions. That’s it. What inspires you about Randy? Nothing. He doesn’t overcome any of the hurdles placed in his path, hurdles he places there himself. Nor does he display any sort of determination. Indeed, he seems to quit everything he starts at the first sign of resistance. Nor does he display virtuous traits, like loyalty, a sense of duty, honor, kind heartedness in the face of adversity. To the contrary, his every action shows he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

So maybe he’s not meant to be inspirational. Maybe he’s tragic? Hardly. According to Aristotle, a tragedy results in a catharsis, an emotional cleansing or healing experienced by the audience as a result of the sympathy they feel for the suffering endured by the character(s). But there is no catharsis here. We can’t feel for Randy's suffering because it’s all self-inflicted by the bad decisions he makes. And, more importantly, those bad decisions aren’t the result of some tragic flaw. He knows full well he's making bad decisions, he's just decided the temporary benefits of the bad decision outweigh the future suffering. How can we feel sympathy for him? The simple fact is nothing about Randy is inspirational or tragic, and there is no lesson to be learned.

The Other Characters Aren't Any Better

The other characters give us nothing to latch onto either. Indeed, despite the attempt to give them depth, the female characters are little more than set pieces that give Randy something to do as he waits for his final match.

The daughter subplot is ridiculous and phony. The daughter hates him because he abandoned her. So he shows up to tell her he had a heart attack. This only makes her hate him more. Ok, so far so good. But rather than explore how this affects Randy, Aronofsky just has him bring her a gift (a coat), and suddenly twenty years of hate is washed away. Really? But since a relationship with the daughter could complicate the ending, Randy bizarrely alienates her again when he blows off his first dinner with her so he can do cocaine with a groupie (something out of character for a man who has been shown to be very reliable about appointments). So twenty years of hate is washed away by the giving of a simple coat, but is brought back by missing one dinner?

The stripper’s subplot is nonsensical as well. It’s clear Cassidy doesn’t see Randy as more than a regular customer. She likes him, but appears repulsed by him on a personal level. So he throws a little rage at her -- sufficient to get him tossed out of the strip club. Suddenly, she decides, “this might be the man I want to settle down with to help raise my nine year old son.” Who knew rage was such a turn on? Further, having decided that Randy is the man of her dreams, she drives to southern New Jersey in the dead of night to stop him from wrestling. But when he refuses to stop, after her half-hearted attempt to stop him, she simply walks away. Why? Because she’s only in this film to let Randy explain what’s on his mind to the audience, there is no real possibility of a romance.

And frankly, we can’t even feel that he’s lost anything in either of these relationships. Not only do neither the daughter nor the stripper offer him any sort of realistic, worthwhile relationship, but he doesn’t even seem to care that he’s lost either. He’d rather blow off what should be the most important dinner of his life to do blow with a groupie. And he’d rather blow off the woman he's been wooing than give up one final night of wrestling -- in front of a crowd of maybe 100 people? If he doesn’t care, why should we?

Even The Director Offers Us Nothing

We can’t even look to the “film craft” for anything redeeming. The Fountain was a pretentious turd, but at least it was interestingly shot. This isn't? Aronofsky does nothing original or interesting, and he can’t even remain consistent. For example, he begins the movie with a documentary feel, by having the camera following Randy down various hallways as he makes his way to the ring -- something you’ve seen before in every other movie that ventured back stage, e.g. Spinal Tap. But Aronofsky then drops this style until he seems to remember it half way through the film when the camera follows Randy at his day job -- at a meat counter. He then forgets it again, even when Randy returns to the ring for his final match. Aronofsky also uses a series of cheap tricks that stick out like a sore thumb. For example, when things are going well for Randy, the scene suddenly becomes more brightly lit. When things turn sour, the scene darkens. This is most apparent in a scene where he attempts to reconcile with his daughter, where the sunlight itself fades as she lays into him. It’s all been done before and it feels cheap and manipulative.

So Why Did The Critics Love This Film?

The critics almost universally loved The Wrestler, at least that’s what they claimed; it made most of their Top 10 lists for 2008. But if you read their reviews, you will find they didn’t really like the movie so much as they liked the parallel of Mickey Rourke completing a comeback. The words of Roger Ebert are typical:

This is the performance of [Rourke’s] lifetime. It will win him a nomination, may win him the Oscar. Like many great performances, it has an element of truth. Rourke himself was once young and glorious and made the big bucks. He did professional boxing just for the hell of it. He alienated a lot of people. He fell from grace and stardom, but kept working, because he was an actor and that was what he did. Now here is his comeback role, playing Randy the Ram's comeback.

I cared as deeply about Randy the Ram as any movie character I've seen this year. I cared about Mickey Rourke, too. The way this role and this film unfold, that almost amounts to the same thing. Rourke may not win the Oscar for best actor. But it would make me feel good to see him up there. It really would.

The Wrestler is one of those movies that rode the wave of the events surrounding the movie. This was the dramatic role that would crown Rourke’s comeback, and the critics were happy to be a part of that. If Nicholas Cage had played Randy the Ram, as was originally intended, this movie would have been panned by these same critics. And as the spell of Rourke’s comeback fades again, I suspect this movie will be long forgotten.

Don't bother with this one.

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