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November 22, 2006
The Fountain
Quite some time ago, I asked a friend whether he thought films required an audience. He said no, which instigated a second question: could a film that never existed outside its director's head still be called a film?
Here, purportedly, is a film of ideas - and yet the idea of the film remains, for me, far stronger than any of those within it. I've been anticipating and writing about Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain for so long now that, by the time I finally saw it last week, any notion of expectations met or dashed were trumped by the rather overwhelming sense of completion. Which, actually, is quite appropriate; the words "Finish it" are a running mantra in the film, and they've seeped through every facet of the narrative and become completely and comprehensively meta. It's finally done; the film has been shot, and the idea put out of its misery.
Aronofsky has spoken in numerous interviews over the past few months about how he resuscitated the project after it was initially shut down; he pared down the original screenplay, distilling it to its emotional and ideological core and making it a financially viable project for Warner Brothers at the same time (he shaved about forty million off a budget that was originally almost twice that). Prior to that, though, when the film seemed dead, he'd handed his more expansive script over to painter Kent Williams, who turned it into a graphic novel. He was given free reign to develop the work independently from Aronosky's vision; to interpret the script, on a visual level, however he saw fit.
This volume was released about a year ago, but I didn't pick it up until the day after I saw the film. Comparing what was on the page to what can now be seen on screen reveals some of what was excised; assuming Williams followed the screenplay, the narrative differences aren't terribly drastic. The majority of the changes were in the Spanish sequences; there was the original epic battle on the Mayan staircase, which in the film has been reduced to a brief skirmish, and a more complex series of political affairs set against the backdrop of the Inquisition. There's also an episode set atop the spherical spaceship that is a bit less metaphysical, a bit more science-fiction-ish, and a few structural differences; but by and large, this is a different representation of the same thing.
And that's the rub. This isn't an adaptation of a film; it's an interpretation of Aronofsky's original vision, in the same way as the films now playing on screen is, and moreso than hinting at what could have been, the novel functions in tandem with the film; together, they highlight the genesis of the project that exists between them, six years back: the idea that started it all; the film in Aronofsky's head.
I can't say that the film wasn't what I was expected; rather, I think that it was, and that only after the first hour did it manage to surprise me; only then did I get swept up in its self-prescribed 'road to awe' (and, indeed, awe did strike there, unexpectedly, towards the end). For all its empyrean visuals, I found The Fountain curiously earthbound. I don't actually think that this is the fault of the film; I think it was an inherent side effect of the idea becoming a film. In other words, it's as good as it could be in this form, but it's never as good as it could be before it became physical - a common disparity, perhaps, but one exacerbated by six years of treacherous and fairly public development.
Or perhaps I'm being too attributive; perhaps it could never be as good as it was in my head. Filmmakers always talk about how the film they have in mind can never be brought completely to the screen, and that it's best to set those ideas loose early on and let the film become what it needs to be; and I've always felt that audiences, who in my opinion are intrinsic to a film's existence, should do exactly the same thing.
Which is one of the reasons why I'm seeing the film again tonight.
Regardless, if a film's worth can be measured by how you think about it afterwards (and, to a fairly substantial degree, I think it is) then The Fountain is certainly a success. I really appreciate what Jim Emmerson has to say about it; after comparing the film and its intentions to works like Magnolia and My Own Private Idaho, he writes that
They're all bold attempts -- some more successful than others -- by passionate young filmmakers in their late 20s to mid-30s to sum up their own sensibilities and experience, to cram just about everything they know and feel, about life and about movies, on the screen at once.That doesn't make for smooth, comfortable viewing, but I'd much rather watch somebody shoot for the moon when the stakes are sky-high than sit back while they play it safe.
Jim's review is one of the few favorable one; it's rather sad, if not completely surprising, to see the film being trounced. I suppose that's the cross Aronofsky has to bear, but hopefully time will be kinder to the film than those critics who can't forgive a filmmaker for wearing his heart on his sleeve while trying to push the boundaries of genre.
Posted by David Lowery at November 22, 2006 2:22 AM
Comments
tomorrow, finally. maybe i can add two cents of my own then..
Posted by: brad at November 23, 2006 10:21 PM
Nice to see your thoughts, I had many of the same reactions to what I saw. A little more digesting is needed, though, before I start writing about it.
Posted by: Karsten at November 24, 2006 11:21 AM
Seeing it a second time, oddly, didn't make me like it any more or any less than the first viewing. There was nothing more to uncover - not that I necessarily expected anything. I think the film is just so simple. All this sound and fury, signifying something...but not nearly as much one might expect, given the level of bombast with which its portrayed. The last thirty minutes are pretty extraordinary, though, and the score is beautiful. Can't stop listening to it.
Posted by: Ghostboy at November 25, 2006 1:41 PM
i still don't know what to say after watching it two days ago. overall i really liked it, barring a few minor details that i found excruciatingly awful.
it is really simple. hammered into the viewer's brain a bit too heavy-handedly, but the premise is remarkable. and over the past two days, how i feel about the film (my level of enjoyment) has only increased with time and more thought.
Posted by: brad at November 25, 2006 11:48 PM
I think that the film will flower in my memory, just as it did in my anticipation, and I'll wind up remembering it as far better than it is. But one of the things, I think, that really attaches me to it is Aronofsky's passion. That it lasted so long, with such obvious fervor (just read any of his interviews for evidence of this) really endears the film to me. Maybe that's what hooked me on it in the first place.
I just ordered this.
Posted by: Ghostboy at November 26, 2006 4:43 PM
I think your characterization of the film as "earthbound" is spot on and perhaps what is most misunderstood about this film. To me it comes right back to skin. To loving someone who is about to die. And all that involves. I found myself much more caught up in the death watch than the flight to space.
Posted by: Maya at December 4, 2006 3:04 AM