The Revenant

TheRevenantPosterGeorge Miller made a movie this year that is little but a chase scene, with themes of survival, revenge and a showcase for hyper violence and cinematic spectacle. The film has virtually no story, but the nature of its editing and its use of color, movement and staging made it an exhilarating experience, brutal and devastating but also cathartic and purely entertaining.

Alejandro G. Inarritu’s “The Revenant” is a similar revenge fantasy, stripped to its bones in all its animalistic nature and fury, but Emmanuel Lubezki’s cinematography blunts the impact. The Malick-esque way that Lubezki plays with the elements to create something spectral and naturalistic give “The Revenant” an overstated sense of importance, and watching it is hardly entertaining but dreary, disgusting and devoid of purpose.

Set in early frontier America, Leonardo DiCaprio plays Hugh Glass, a navigator part of a hunting party gathering pelts. Natives ambush the entire squadron and reduce the team from 45 people to just 10. The scene is ravishing, but immediately numbing. Arrows fly in and impale the Americans from beyond the frame, creating a sense early on that danger is not imminent but seemingly omnipresent. The mise-en-scene is cold and silvery and makes a stark backdrop for fiery streaks of arrows flying through the sky.

Lubezki has the camera dive underneath the water to witness one man being strangled to death, and we realize that despite the camera’s pivots and surveying, it’s more of a godly spectator rather than a human eye. The camera here is far less a gimmick than in Inarritu’s “Birdman,” and the way the camera is freed from a fixed axis is not unlike how Lubezki’s cinematography floated and tumbled in “Gravity.” But seeing it in this way isn’t visceral but bleak, violent, bloody and full of agony.

Glass escapes the natives only to be attacked by a bear. This scene too is an endless, torturous and dispassionate sight done in a single, unbroken shot. The bear claws and stomps on his back and whips him like a doll. It exists seemingly out of time and even ends on something of a grim punch line, a final knife in the back as Glass tumbles down a hill only for the slain bear to roll on top of him.

Miraculously, Glass survives, but just barely. Captain Andrew Henry (Domhnall Gleeson) demands the remaining troop care for him and keep him alive as long as possible. When they’re unable to transport the wounded Glass further, Henry assigns John Fitzgerald (Tom Hardy) to tend to Glass and Glass’s half-breed son Hawk (Forrest Goodluck) until Glass dies. Instead, Fitzgerald kills Hawk and leaves Glass for dead. “The Revenant” starts as Glass’s fight for survival against nature, a cold look at how the world is vengeful and how the wilderness governs all. But it eventually morphs into a more simplistic revenge fantasy, Glass’s quest to return from the dead and kill the man who murdered his son.

We see flashes of Glass’s past, of his native bride being slaughtered and skulls being stacked high in a mountain. Except Glass’s remaining existence is no less bleak, and his past plays as a morbid form of adding insult to injury. He survives by eating hunks of bloody, raw buffalo meat and by cutting open the guts of a horse and crawling inside its open cavity for warmth. The film’s gore is disturbing, but the subject matter itself is not the problem. “Mad Max: Fury Road” was no less shocking, and even “Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back” involves Luke killing an animal for warmth on the ice planet Hoth.

The difference is how Inarritu lingers on the gruesomeness and screams each shot’s importance, not for their ingenuity but their stark reality. The score pounds with thundering drums that signal each moment’s weight, and the way “The Revenant” evokes God as a theme continually burdens us with the idea that this is Glass against the world.

DiCaprio is a victim of the film’s agony, grunting and moaning his way through the entire film and crawling on the cold ground for much of it. There’s only so much of an actual performance here. Tom Hardy is more effective as the dissenting and ruthless Fitzgerald, complete with a thick, broken Americana accent and wide eyes that show his madness.

While Lubezki remains the more interesting entry point to “The Revenant,” the blame for the movie’s depressing and exhausting slog rests on Inarritu’s shoulders. Like how the film treats Glass, he does all he can to drag us through hell but little catharsis or solace to bring us back.

1 ½ stars

Ex Machina

Alex Garland’s directorial debut sci-fi about artificial intelligence starring Alicia Vikander, Oscar Isaac and Domhnall Gleeson.

ExMachinaPosterIn Alex Garland’s “Ex Machina”, Ava (Alicia Vikander) is a highly receptive robot who can speak, interact, have an intelligent conversation, tell jokes, flirt, and possibly display the true signs of human intelligence. In a conversation with the protagonist Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), she can pick up on the “micro expressions” in his face and tell that he’s lying, that he’s uncomfortable or that he may even be in love. She’s gifted with tiny details that make her personality so memorable.

“Ex Machina” succeeds not on the broad strokes of its clever sci-fi premise, but in the little “micro expressions” that define its character, style, ideas, thrilling pulse, and entrancing tone. It’s a finely tuned machine of a movie, with beauty and excitement that make it human.

When we meet Caleb, his computer is sizing him up from his web cam. His expressions and his excitement are recorded as he learns he has won a prestigious contest. Deep in reclusive Alaskan forests, Caleb arrives by helicopter to the subterranean home of Nathan (Oscar Isaac), a computer genius who we learn is the mastermind behind the world’s most widely used search engine, Blue Book. Caleb is one of his star coders, and as part of this contest, he has been chosen to observe and test Nathan’s latest creation, a super sophisticated version of Artificial Intelligence known as Ava. Caleb’s goal will be to take The Turing Test, and see if by the end of his week stay he still knows he’s talking to a robot.

Garland treats this concept with an elegant, fine touch. Caleb’s arrival at Nathan’s secret facility isn’t announced or explained as a procedural, but is gradually understood. Already we feel like a rat in a maze, with the sterile colors, no windows and low ceilings and corridors that make us feel both trapped and observed. Isaac’s performance as Nathan too is highly adept. We’ve been given only background details that he’s a computer genius and a titan of industry, but even before we know that, Isaac makes him to be an uncomfortable figure nothing like we expected. He’s a casual, cavalier bro, the kind of alpha, powerful figure so comfortable in his own skin that he makes others feel nervous around him.

But Vikander is the real star of the show. Garland has given Ava a slender, silvery sleek figure. She has a human face molded over a metal frame, and we can peer through her shimmering, metallic body to see her inner workings. Garland has done this such that we can literally see inside her, spiritually and physically.

Caleb is placed in a small room with see through glass separating him from Ava while Nathan observes. He asks questions about her past and her hobbies, and she proves to be charming and candid. Vikander’s quiet, yet open performance allows her to delicately toe the line between AI and Caleb’s immediate dream girl. Vikander is a former ballerina, and Ava has the grace of one. But Nathan and Caleb wonder if she’s for real, or if she’s an incredible simulation of a person having a conversation.

In later sessions, Ava makes jokes and asks about Caleb’s own past and hobbies. “Ex Machina” at this point starts to resemble a hybrid of Spike Jonze’s “Her” and Shane Carruth’s “Primer”, with a beautiful affectation for a computerized presence emerging out of thin air, all while the suspicion of Nathan’s test and of the discussion of science and AI theory create a simmering tension.

But Garland has more up his sleeve, and his ideas offer both a powerful insight into human nature while rewriting some of the rules of artificial intelligence in science fiction. We’ve been told that robots cannot feel love or emotion, but “Ex Machina” is the first film that would beg to differ. Why does the robot need sexuality, Caleb questions? Humans weren’t programmed to love or feel attractions, but then of course we were. These animal urges aren’t learned but are instinctual and automatic, coded into our DNA. The idea is Garland’s additional jab at men, with Nathan’s brutish, often drunken behavior and disregard for his servant Kyoko (Sonoya Mizuno) suggest man’s base desire to control women and dream of creating an ideal woman. It’s no coincidence then that Ava is a “female”.

Garland goes deeper and suggests through a chilling look at the transparency of the digital age that search engines have come to understand how humans think, not just what we’re thinking. It is another detail in Garland’s modest scale that helps add up to important spiritual questions. “Is it strange to have made something that hates you,” Ava asks of her creator. Nathan’s character is constantly a curious one because he could be playing God, or he could be just tinkering with a computer program with emotions that are an illusion. He could be a dangerous loose cannon, or he could be more innocent and clueless than he lets on.

Some critics have argued that Garland’s film ends predictably, and that it lacks a compelling and surprising Deus Ex Machina from which the film draws its name. But what remains unexpected is just what note Garland chooses to end this story on. Throughout “Ex Machina” he has been juggling tones of surreal suspense and touching romance, and while any number of endings could have put it closer in line with “Blade Runner,” “Moon” or “A.I.”, Garland chooses one that’s all his own, one that spins what it means to be human in a darker and unexpected light.

4 stars