Mother of God
The Glorious Pretentiousness of Darren Aronofsky
Darren Aronofsky just might be one of the most divisive filmmakers of all time. His films don't necessarily exist in the same realm as, say Nicholas Winding Refn's (which is closer to a minuscule and really f**ked up cult following) but instead, because Aronofsky's films have gained so much traction and critical recognition (earning him multiple Oscar nods), at this point in his career, the man is proving to take unbelievable risks with his films that many directors never even fantasize about.
To preface everything I'm about to get into (and to gauge whether or not you should keep reading the following novella), no this is not going to be a circle jerk where I endlessly praise Aronofsky's work because "it's different," although I will absolutely attest to the overwhelming relief of going to the movies and NOT coming out with the easily-digestible, very often forgettable comic book movies, blockbuster sequels and flaming-hot garbage that most mainstream audiences eat up week after week.
I'm gonna get right to it: I absolutely adored Mother! AKA Aronofsky's most bat-sh*t insane, most controversial and arguably the most divisive film of his career and yes, I loved it because it was different but more importantly, because it was bold as hell. Were the biblical allegories too obvious? Were the religious comparisons too self-evident for its own good? Was the whole flick abundantly and ghastly metaphorical? 100%. Did the film have much ground to stand on ASIDE from being an arguably pretentious exercise in telling a modern day fable based on God, Mother Earth and the Holy Book? Absolutely not. But how many filmmakers are even daring to touch upon the outskirts of this kind of material? I'm not talking about religious comparisons, I'm talking about the ballsy risk at attempting to sell your audience a show; to surprise them; to entertain them; to give them an EXPERIENCE for Mother's sake (these puns are gonna be too much). This is WHY WE GO TO THE MOVIES, FOLKS. And if there's one thing everyone can agree upon, whether they're calling Mother! a masterpiece, or whether they're calling it the worst movie of the century, no one can deny that this flick is going to cause discussion and that's what movies are made for. Hell, THAT'S ART.
Now back up. I'm not calling Mother! some grandiose piece of work that belongs in a museum but for the love of cinema, we NEED movies like this one. The idea of "film" as an art is an absolute, dying breed. The concept of film existing as a craft is an endangered species.
Of course there will always be high-end festivals and Fantastic Fests and hosts of brilliant, unseen and undeniably talented pieces of film that no mainstream-goer will ever hear about in their life (and thank God for those films), but the reality is that folks are flocking to the movie theaters to see TRASH. Now, I do understand the crave for garbage-movies as a needs for mindless entertainment because sometimes the world is just too dark and we need to shut our brains off and enjoy a flick that requires 0% brain activity (the increasingly popular Fast & Furious sequels are strong indicators of America's need for this), but if there's one thing the box office indicates, it's that we as moviegoers inherently absorb the formulaic and remorseless flicks being pumped out again and again and again. For Father's sake, it's why I've become so resentful towards the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Disney's crafty as hell with their "different take on different heroes" but you really only gotta dig so deep to see the bare bones of EVERY MCU-movie churning out the same exact sh*t year after year (Ant-Man may look like a heist movie but it's really just a re-formatted, humorless version of Iron Man). The reason blockbusters work so well in the modern day is that they're just glorifying the same stories moviegoers have been watching since the 70s (even new Star Wars is just a re-hash of old Star Wars). There's absolutely nothing wrong with this formula but it's not different; it's not challenging the audience; it's not giving them something to chew on and digest and really settle with.
I look at a really experimental movie like Mother! and I feel sorry for audiences who aren't willing to broaden their horizons or cleanse their pallets for something new and different because I earnestly feel like audiences are missing out. The film is not only unlike most movies (and definitely won't be for most audiences) but it also represents the element of surprise and not knowing what you're getting out of the end result and in the end, isn't that why we go to the movies?
I'm obviously not suggesting everyone go dive into the madness that is Mother! Hell, by the last thirty minutes (one of the most bonkers and utterly insane third acts of a movie I've seen, maybe since Cabin In The Woods), even my threshold was being tested (it never quite delves into the horror genre but it certainly dances with it). But I look at how the movie bombed; I look at CinemaScore's infamous F-Grade rating, and I think about the split criticism of film and the irony of film criticism given that film is one of the most subjective forms of art to ever exist and it is with that notion that I question my own ever-changing taste in film. In just the last couple years, I have fully embraced films that really test me, challenge me and frustrate the bejesus outta me. I've also defended Batman v Superman to no end, so really who am I to defend some floozy piece of pop-religious art that many folks are calling utter trash? Because it's the very nature that gives us Joe-Schmo nobody-Americans a voice, for whatever reason we need it, whether it's to help others figure out whether or not a movie is for them, or whether there's a much deeper-rooted issue in connecting to film as a true representation of art.
AGAIN, I'm not calling Mother! an inspiring work of art but dammit, it's WHY I go to the movies and it's why A-holes like me write so damn much about it. I look at dudes like Aronofsky and I remember why I embrace this currently existing nature within myself; This outspoken, vocal critic who defends a movie like Only God Forgives as a misinterpreted masterpiece, while tearing down a beloved movie like Baby Driver for being a Drive rip-off (I'm obviously an unabashedly shameless Winding Refn fan), but it's also what makes the divisive work of someone as ballsy as Aronofsky worth defending and truthfully it all goes back to his early works of Requiem For A Dream (2000).
Of course Aronofsky broke out of the gates with his impressive but low budget, black & white film Pi ('98), but it's Requiem that everyone remembers as their first, true Aronofsky experience. Requiem For A Dream is notorious for dominating endless lists whether they be "most disturbing" or "films you can't watch more than once," and perhaps it's my multiple viewings of the film that desensitized me at an early age but even that early work of Aronofsky's proves to this day to be (among many, not all) one of the most disturbing and controversial films of all time, immediately giving the director the reputation he still attempts to have today.
And for better or worse, Aronofsky has done a pretty bang-up job at keeping that reputation. One wouldn't think the acclaimed director would follow up his breakout drug-paradise horror indie masterpiece (if you will) with a psychedelic metaphor on death which features a journey through space and time with some of the most lush visuals ever put on screen but hey, here we are.
The Fountain (2006) is Aronofsky's most underrated film bar none. It was the first film of his resume to truly split audiences, not because of the subject matter like we have with Mother! but because people had so many different takeaways from the final result (Okay, so it's a LITTLE like Mother! in that sense) but folks were just as prone to grasp The Fountain with inspired beauty as likely as they were to roll their eyes at the pretentious messages of life & death (though as always, no one could argue with the magnificent aura that is Hugh Jackman); the film was eye candy; a visual palette of absorbed wonder. It could be watched on mute and still be as glorious, although Clint Mansell's hauntingly beautiful score only help give the film the cult following it has. The Fountain was Aronofsky's first misunderstood work of art. Some artsy-fartsy film nerds really got something out of it where most audiences sorta shrugged at the seemingly cluelessness of the plot. It was the first film to give Aronofsky a truly divided audience; it was the beginning of what would be an accent on the man's divisive career; the very thing that makes people love or hate him.
Aronofsky then turned his tides and gave the Academy a one-two punch with The Wrestler (2008) and Black Swan (2010); arguably the two greatest films of the man's career. I mention them together because they almost exist as two very different sides of the same exact coin. Wherein The Wrestler, Mickey Rourke sacrifices everything he loves for sport, in Black Swan Natalie Portman literally loses everything, including her mind, in favor of ballet. Both films are beautiful nods to the painful dedication of sport and art and both pieces execute the tragedy of their fallen heroes in a flawless, intertwined web of addiction and suffering as a means to achieve goals beyond their limits. The two films are so very different and yet the struggling journey the protagonists take is nearly identical, as they give everything they have to their audience. Both films are tragic, traumatic and downright beautiful.
And then we have Noah (2014)... I won't get into my personal thoughts on the film (I'm one of like, twelve people who loved it) but until Mother! it was easily Aronofsky's most divided film. The majority of folks seemed to really not take to the film for more reasons than it just being an over-extended re-imagining of the famous Bible story (the most common response was "the book was better" [people are so funny]).
The reality was that not many folks wanted to see a two-act interpretation of the biblical hero (played by a very Russel-Crowe-ish Russel Crowe) where the first act has Noah do battle against soldiers, with giant rock monsters as allies, followed by a second act where he loses his mind on ship threatening to murder his unborn grandchild (LOTS of liberties were taken with the adaptation) but I had a couple big takeaways from the film that have stayed in my mind since I saw it in theaters more than three years ago.
Sure, I dig the cinematography; the psychedelic visuals of Noah's dreams; the dazzling clash between a dying world on the brink of extinction and the visions of a glowing, vibrant world to come (the cinematography is at times remarkable). Yes, I embraced the "rock monsters" AKA Aronofsky's interpretation of the fallen angels, called the "Nephilim" (read Genesis. They may not be described as rock monsters but THEY IN THERE) and yes, I even took to Noah losing his mind on the Ark when he found out his unwed daughter was pregnant (DEFINITELY left out of the book) in order to test his patience and forgiveness and all other values God smiles upon, yada yada yada (cue the religious sigh of relief) but honestly, what I took away more than nearly anything else was Aronofsky's capability to capture the madness of his protagonist and push them to the near breaking point only unlike The Wrestler and Black Swan (and as I write this, nearly every Aronofsky film), our hero actually triumphs and overcomes their demons. Granted, you can't end a story like one as triumphant as Noah's and have him walk away a fractured, unstable man (then the book-lovers would really be up in arms) but it's a breath of fresh air to see a glimmer of hope in the broken journey of the director's central character. It's not even that it's a happier ending but it shows some light at the end of these tunnels which are often so dark and so very bleak. That said, Noah might be the only film of Aronofsky's to have a somewhat uplifting ending.
In the end, Noah divided audiences more than any other entry in Aronofsky's resume. More importantly, it was the beginning of fans questioning the man's work and it was the first reality check people had when they decided that beyond all the well written and broken characters, perhaps the director was finally showing his true colors and that maybe he was not much more than a pretentious, philosophical-obsessed painter who's scraping the bottom of his paint can for vibrancy to make up for his washed up ideas. Disappointed fans looked at Noah and thought "This is the same guy who gave us The Wrestler?" and suddenly, they questioned why Requiem For A Dream was ever such a big deal in the first place. It was a weird breaking point for the man's career and no other film he would do would ever seem to frustrate and confuse audiences to this caliber.
And then Mother! came out...
Without turning this into a full review, I think what continues to excite me about Mother! is that it's one of the most experimental mainstream films I've ever seen. All the metaphors and allegory and religious comparison may or may not just be pseudo-philosophical bullsh*t but it's got people talking. The one aspect no one can deny upon viewing the film, whether absolutely engorged in its message or rolling their eyes at the absurdity of it all, is that they have something to say. The film will stir up conversation no matter who watches it and no matter what it is they're taking away from it. The biggest difference between a film like this and most films to come out in average theaters is that there's such a big takeaway in the end. Love it or hate it, the film is not an easily digestible subject matter and it's not exactly something that will fade away with the rest of the forgettable blockbusters (like every single major movie that is released week after week). The fact that the end result is so much different from all the weekly mainstream chum is an honest-to-god miracle in this day and age of film-excrement. It's not even that I'm in love with the film itself (although I clearly might be) but it's Aronofsky's brash risk at doing something totally off the market that makes the film worth talking about at all.
The end result is so wacky and so gleefully bizarre, it's a miracle that the film was greenlit at all. The fact that the film tricks its audience into thinking they're watching an everyday thriller just for it to become some sort of biblical retelling of a horror movie is something of a revelation (no puns intended). Despite its controversy, just the last thirty minutes alone are questionable as to how the film ended up being publicly screened in over two thousand major theaters. It's not even that the ending is so morose or horrific (though there's certainly one specific grotesque moment that will split the audiences right down then middle) but it's just such a repeated slap in the face to audiences who were expecting an average weekly flick.
The film is deep; it's dark; it's a beautiful, descending plunge into madness. It's also equally silly, hokey, self reverent and nothing but a pointless fable stuffed with metaphorically spiritual references. Some have simply declared it as the Bible in cliff notes. Others have deemed it a metaphor on Hollywood, fame and the sacrifice of a personal life. The glorious thing about it is that you can make whatever you want of it. It's self righteous in just how brazen it is with its metaphorical liberties, just as much as it is being a simple story of a fractured marriage gone horribly wrong. It's anything you want it to be, good or bad, and it is that artistic ability to divide folks so strongly; more than Noah; more than ANY Darren Aronofsky film that it has continued to prove that the man is easily one of the most divisive filmmakers working today.
His films are still just as controversial as they were with Requiem seventeen years ago, even if the reasoning behind his controversies have changed drastically from depicting realistic drug addiction to philosophical metaphors on the downfall of humanity. One thing is clear with each of his films and that is that the man loves to disturb his audience and rattle them until they tap out. Again, he never quite delves in the full blown horror genre, but he certainly dances with it. He's clearly obsessed with pushing the threshold of his audience and if his career has amounted to nothing more than guiding his fans through a progressive, twisted, f**ked up journey in shaking the psychosis of his protagonists, then I'd say he's done a damn fine job of accomplishing his goals as a storyteller.
He's also a maniac. Someone might wanna keep that baby away from him.
