Film Digestion

You Were Never Really Gonna Love The First Bite

Giving savory cinema a second chance 

(Or maybe just the art house crap)

I am but a shell of a man. I went to the theater to watch You Were Never Really Here (originally titled A Beautiful Day), the vibrantly violent Art House pulp crime picture starring Joaquin Phoenix in one of his best roles, not even one week ago, and before its 89 minute run time was up I quickly gave into my need for instant gratification. I shot this movie down immediately. 

  As with other oddly specific films, I could not shake the downfall for this one, for the life of me. This was a divisive movie that was designed for the type of moviegoer I am, yet I nearly gagged at its seemingly pretentious attempt at being "art." It ate at me for days until I felt driven to watch it again (because I'm a crazy person). Nevertheless, a few days later I gave YWNRH another go and, well, here we are. 

  I think about exactly why it sometimes takes multiple times for a movie to really resonate with me, and ultimately it's those kinds of films, which transform the hatred within me to unabashed adoration, that stay with me the most. I look back at my first viewing of these films with some kind of high and mighty expectation, which of course only results in inevitable disappointment. Yet something inside my psychotic mind is like "You disliked it so much, you want it out of your head? Just watch it again!" Yeah that's great logic... Granted, this has happened to me on MULTIPLE occasions so at this point I shouldn't even be surprised when it happens anymore.

  Upon first viewing of YWNRH, being displeased with a "crime genre" movie that delivered almost no action, I quickly remembered another film from a few years ago that rubbed me the exact same way. That film was Only God Forgives; Nicholas Winding Refn's most divisive film, and one of the most widely hated films I've ever heard people speak of.

'Hatred' is a literal understatement.

  The comparisons between YWNRH and OGF are actually far more related than meets the eye. The quiet, maddening protagonist has a unique relationship with their mother; the only sole, human contact they share any emotional connection with. Both protagonists face an impossible evil, whether it be pedophiles disguised as governors, or God himself disguised as a vengeful samurai club owner. And both films bake in quiet, tension-pulling pretentiousness that explode with bursts of graphic, vengeful violence. Inevitably, it took me viewing both films twice to understand my infatuation with them. Granted, YWNRH is much more akin with Refn's 2011 cult favorite, Drive, but it's the foreign tone which stands out as not only divisive, or simply "art house," but raw and far more realistic than most movies to topple the weekly box office.

Although I'm fully behind Panther taking ALL of the money.

  I keep coming back to Marvel as a negative comparison and if Black Panther proved anything, it's that I've (slightly) been wrong about the Marvel formula. While most of the MCU's recent films bleed together as hokey, kid-friendly joke-fests, Panther proved to be more bold, serious and superbly different for a change. Granted, Panther still can't escape the MCU workflow with its formulaic, underwhelming third act, but everything before the climax is so good, it gets the hall pass it deserves. But even THEN, a movie like Panther doesn't stand out against ballsy films like Annihilation and YWNRH which for me have taken multiple viewings to appreciate for what they are: Complex films.

  Now, I'm not suggesting that YWNRH is by any means more special than any Marvel movie but because the film's ideas and tone are far more challenging, disturbing and moving, the end result is one that allows for a much longer, lasting impression than whatever chum audience's crunch with their popcorn for 90 minutes, and shit out a few hours later. I keep coming back to film being food; the Blockbusters and irreverent comedies being the empty calories of cinema; Easily digestible and out of your system within 24 hours, while the deeply rooted think-pieces; the art house pictures (the good ones at least) are the long-lasting nutrients that take time to digest; these are the films we deserve, and they're a dying breed.

Too complex for mainstream moviegoers bro, heheh 

*Takes bite of avocado toast*

  Not even one month ago, I revisited Annihilation; a film I initially found underwhelming at best, and realized I was simply wrong to write it off the way I did. The fact that Annihilation is as complex as it is, as both a horrific sci-fi, and a psychological breakdown of humanity, provides deep roots that separate the film from nearly anything else I've seen in 2018. It demands multiple viewings and the same goes for YWNRH.

  Because YWNRH is not a pretentious wank of lush visuals and torture porn, though the dark, ambivalent tone of the film will suggest exactly that. Writer-director Lynne Ramsay is far more concerned with diving DEEP into the damaged psyche of Phoenix's Joe than exploring his vengeful acts of violence.

  Would any of us rather watch Phoenix bash dudes' heads in with a ball-peen hammer in graphic, gory fashion? Of COURSE. And while there are scarce moments of hard violence, it's the grim mood of Ramsay's world that immerses us in an experience that allows us to legitimately feel as if we've witnessed a blood bath.

That's about as much blood as you're gonna get.

  My first go round with the film, I was waiting for something to HAPPEN. When observing the course of literal action, not much physically takes place, which of course resulted in the inevitable disappointment. However, the SECOND time around I focused solely on Joe. I noted in my first review that this is some of the best acting Phoenix has ever done, but I never truly basked in the nature of his broken character (which is of course the entire end-goal of Ramsay's interpretation).

  On the surface, this is a film about a broken man who saves a little girl. Taken at face value, the surface of the film will leave disappointment. But buried beneath the film's surface, we examine a drifter who suffers from PTSD for multiple, disturbing reasons; a man who's lost all connection with empathy and humanity and uses his last will and sacrifice to do what he feels is right; although the film is never once actually about Joe saving anyone, aside from himself.

  The film of course explores Joe being clinically insane, but more importantly, it basks in Joe on the verge of a mental breakdown. Joe takes care of his elderly mother, the only living human being he shares a connection with, and thus we see his humanity. But once Joe crosses the wrong people, in a plot to rescue a young girl who's been kidnapped by pedophiles, we see Joe's true colors as the emotionally disconnected killer; the un-caged animal that he is. But as stated, this isn't a story about Joe seeking revenge, it's about all of his demons threatening to consume him entirely.

DON'T LISTEN TO THE VOICES IN YOUR HEAD, JOAQUIN

  Ramsay uniquely stages much of the violence either hidden, off screen or entirely aside from the fact, leaving Joe in a broken aftermath, rather than be engorged in a brutal murder scene. This decision no doubt will be the most disappointing aspect for many viewers, but it's also poignant that we bake in Joe's trauma; his humane inability to sustain his grip on reality. Rather than watching him commit violence, we see him shattered by the slow-burning ramifications of the disgusting world he lives in.

  In short, this isn't an action movie, a fast-paced flick, nor is it a film that's designed for mass audiences. It's oddly specific in its stretched intimacy of total darkness. It's not for the faint of heart, and it's an impressive piece of pop-art that's just f**king brutal to the core; it's the kind of soulless, psychological piece of work that drains the audience by committing treachery on audience expectation; A brilliant formula that allows the film to rebel against the typical popcorn movie. It's the kinda thing that makes you wish Ramsay would go full blown horror (because this is already pretty damn close).

Granted, if anyone is planning to kill ANYONE with a hammer, I will be first in line to watch.

  Make no mistake, the film still trades a lack of desired violence for bizarre sequences that include random singing, hand-holding, a Shape-of-Water inspired funeral scene, an underwhelming finale, and a mind-f**kery of a surrealist ending. All of these aspects are designed to challenge the audience's mood and guided way of expectation, and these decisions will of course be controversial and too pretentious to many moviegoers. Of course it's all designed to stand out as a think piece that most moviegoers won't "get," but that's because, all pretentiousness aside, it truly is deeper than the average blockbuster (or most movies in general).

  As with Annihilation, Only God Forgives or any other film that has layers this thick, YWNRH is a piece of abstract expressionism designed to be digested and digested SLOWLY. Thomas Townend's cinematography contains long, slow zooms on Phoenix as he becomes unhinged, staged to Johnny Greenwood's all-timer of a haunting score. Ramsay snowballs these pieces together and stages them were they pulled from a nightmarish fever dream. The film is adult and treats its audience as such. Much of the scenery is without dialogue and often broods in its chaotic psychosis of Joe's character and as a character study, this is one of the most memorable in some time.

  In the end, perhaps the best kinds of films are the ones to truly soak in; the ones that really take their time to hit you at the core. If they're not the best kinds of films, they're at least the most interesting. So before you spit out that seemingly rotten piece of overcooked meat, chew on it a little while longer. You'd be surprised how much more savory it is.

Though nothing is more savory than Phoenix's dope beard.

*10 points to the beard*