The Fountain

‘Death is the road to awe’ a Mayan priest whispers at the summit of a great pyramid. The last man, struggling to sustain his only companion, a dying tree of life, voyages through space in a bubble. A star fades, wrapped in the death-lock of a nebula.

These are moments which punctuate visionary feast The Fountain. Darren Aronofsky’s third feature film sits firmly among the writer/director’s greats, including Requiem for a Dream , The Wrestler and Black Swan. However it is little known and wildly overlooked, with takings of half its $35 million budget and critics sneering left right and centre. Ultimately this is a great cinematic tragedy - it really is a work of consummate beauty, a -see-before-you-die deal.

Often described as a tri-narrative tale, the film explores three parallel stories from the past, present and future. Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz play the central protagonists in each narrative: a conquistador hunting the Tree of Life for his Queen to the historical backdrop of the Spanish Inquisition; and a space man, Tom (a homage to no less than Bowie’s Major Tom) the Last Man, seeking salvation in the collapse of a star. But the central story is that of Tommy and Izzi, a modern day couple whose lives are haunted by her terminal cancer. Although originally startling in the sense that we are not often confronted with this sort of narrative, it’s refreshing, and as the story unfolds the connections and parallelisms create a combined message.  Izzi and Tommy’s tale permeates and encompasses the film, with Tommy’s memories of Izzi projected within Tom’s storyline, and the plot of the conquistador and Queen being a story Izzi has written for Tommy to help come to terms with her death. Although the fragmentary and ambitious non-linearity of The Fountain is indeed as disorienting to watch as it is to describe, they each run with parallel themes and are inter-connected through graphic-match editing, aesthetic motifs and ecclesiastical iconography.

The message this film emanates is encapsulated in the words of the Mayan Priest. Death is the road to awe. Aronofsky’s work is profoundly focused on the idea perhaps more basely referred to in The Lion King as the circle of life: death is a natural process, one we all must face. This idea blooms throughout the film as Tommy, after a struggle as a neuroscientist to prevent his wife’s death, fails and gradually becomes at peace with himself. The conquistador, on discovering the tree of life finds he has interpreted its powers erroneously – rather than raising him to immortality as a man he meets a different fate. And Tom reaches Xibalba and witnesses, as Izzi has reiterated earlier in the film, that the most exquisite death of a star creates new life.

The Fountain is at times bleak, dealing with raw human emotion and universal experience. Centrally the film focuses on death and mankind’s relationship with our mortality. At some point, everyone has to consider and accept the fact that they will die; while this is agonizing for Tommy who insists ‘death is a disease’ to be cured, Izzi embraces the life she has left. This is the mastery of Aronofsky’s film: its immeasurable scale – narratives scattered across time and space, enormous life questions – is countered by its intimacy. The storyline is surprisingly uncluttered with the aforementioned strand of Tommy and Izzi dominating screentime, undiluted by other characters. Extreme close-ups physically enhance this immediacy, with almost intrusive zoom on the face, lips and neck involving the audience in their relationship.

Stylistically as ever Darren Aronofsky pays intricate attention to detail. Izzi is - without exception – dressed in white throughout the film, a dramatic contrast with Tommy who is shot in dark, low-key lighting and black costumes. Aronofsky plays with this chiaroscuro throughout, particularly in a bath sequence in which Izzi is the brightly lit central focus of the shot; Tommy lingers on the sidelines, in darkness, a visual expression of the regressive nature of his attitude to death.

A reflection of the film’s limited budget (for Hollywood standards), Aronofsky as ever uses creative techniques to replace expensive CGI. The shots of Xibalba – the Mayan underworld - as the spaceman hurtles into the dying star are in fact the work of macro-photography of undersea micro-organisms. The use of the infinitely miniscule to represent the infinitely colossal is an exquisite, inspired idea which in this context not only works but has deeply philosophical implications.

The double act of Weisz and Jackman is remarkable. Both performances are beautifully convincing and, accomplished with the aforementioned intimate cinematography and poignant screenwriting from Aronofsky, the bittersweet nature of their parting is all the more severely felt, as if it were a direct blow to the viewer as well as the characters onscreen. Indeed, the film encapsulates the agonizing hopelessness which accompanies loss. Tommy’s frustration at his inability to save his wife is deeply relatable, a heart-heaver. Jackman’s performance is particularly distinguished as Tommy strives in desperation to achieve the unattainable and cure death. His pain is that of every person as it is an innately human response to riot against the ending of our lives, or that of our loved ones.

An adventure across spirituality of all planes – Christianity, Buddism, Mayan – but also in science, philosophy, The Fountain manifests the human urge to gaze at the sublime, to wonder. Head on it might be a tale of darkness and morbidity, but ultimately The Fountain urges us to celebrate the life we have rather than fight the inevitability of death. 

Man of Steel

Combining the forces of Chris Nolan and Zack Snyder, whose legacies offer The Dark Knight franchise, Inception and 300, in a DC Comics superhero project seems an effortlessly legendary proposal. But what is delivered in Man of Steel, I am sorry to say, is often more bombastic than genius. The film is enjoyable, a peppering of sublime moments and ambitious action, restricted, however, from brilliance by a drawn out narrative, disappointing villain and reluctance of using humour in any form.

Try as hard as any heterosexual female may to be impartial but it is inevitable one Henry Cavill will have an impact on any review this hypothetical person might make.

Logistically speaking (of course) the actor is aesthetically perfect for Superman - it takes a limited stretch of the imagination to envisage his strong jaw, calm gaze and slight dimple in the chin (apparently a requirement for a budding S-Man) accompanied with the iconic blue and red skin-tight  (thank you wardrobe team) costume. Strutting across the screen with rippling biceps, a jaw-bone of a Grecian God, and what can only be described as bulging DD's, I haven't seen a man this ripped and this perfect. And apparently, neither has the camera, which eye-fucks him throughout.





But we have to remember Henry is also acting in the film, and he takes on the role of leading man with a strong, impassioned performance. As an evolution story, the focus is on Clark Kent's character arc throughout, but particularly in the most enjoyable first half of the film. Here flashbacks are used to create depth of his character as young Clark struggles to hide and control his godly powers. These sentimental moments, accompanied by adopted parents, played  in an understated, majestic manner by Kevin Costner and Diane Lane, are beautifully poignant.




Gravity is added to the Superman fable; big, obvious questions like 'are we alone in the universe' are pondered where they, oddly, haven't really been discussed in the franchise. It also considers the 'science' of Superman, striving to explain why he is so super, although I'm sure Stephen Hawking wouldn't be convinced by Russell Crowe's mutterings about the Earth's atmosphere differing to Krypton. No matter, at least they tried, and its not like we weren't suspending any beliefs when we walked into the cinema to watch this.

There's glimpses of the captivating scale and cinematic escapism that permeates Snyder's earlier works. The monolithic alien robots, which penetrate the earth with some sort of sonic beam, blast out a surreal booming noise, a resounding orchestra of the soaring operatic scores of Hans Zimmer (who also worked on Nolan's Inception and Dark Knight series), just calling to be transferred into a dubstep remix. The learning-to-fly scene which tantalised in the trailers is a stand out sequence. Here Kal-El walks amongst a pristine ice landscape, crouches, the ground reverberates as though a force of pure energy has awakened, and, like a rocket, Superman launches into the clouds. Action throughout is dazzling, especially when we take to the clouds with the superhero, the camera follows videogame-style as he sucker-punches the bad guys. 



As you might expect, as was the way with Batman, Nolan and co. deconstruct any camp or lighthearted associations the audience may have with the Superhero. The S emblazoned on his costume, Clark Kent insists almost pedantically, is 'not an S' but a symbol of hope in Krypton. KBabes. The costume department have also gone to measures to darken the blues and reds, stripping as much as possible from the Comic-book vibe. And the red pants outside the tights have been dismissed. ("NOT THE RED PANTS" I hear nobody cry). This is a necessary deviation from the known which slices a new angle for the superhero, as Nolan did with the Batman franchise, and Burton before him. In many ways the focus on a somber, elevated experience for Man of Steel is effective and a success. However overall the film does take itself too seriously, with limited laughs throughout - come on the villain is called General Zod. And his haircut is so bad. 

Moreover I found character development beyond Superman/Clark Kent/ Kal-El was somewhat lazy and dimensionless. Although it is understandable why Lois Lane falls head over heels for Clark Kent after one conversation, there is limited chemistry between the two to convince any emotional investment in their relationship. Their kiss at the end just seemed latched on and apologetic, almost like when Anne Hathaway's Catwoman randomly kisses Batman at the climax of The Dark Knight Rises, it doesn't seem plausible. It just seems like a box each blockbuster has to tick - 'explosions, check; CGI, check; make out scene, check' - which is often, as in this case, slopped on at the end like a dollop of peas to bump up the nutritional value of a meal.

To add insult to this grievous injury I found myself disappointed by the aforementioned villain. Michael Shannon is robotic and two dimensional as Zod. I understand this was a requirement of his character, as on Krypton each individual is bred for their purpose- an interesting reference and warning about the powers of genetic engineering. However this idea does not lend itself to a refreshing baddie. Plus I didn't find Zod in any way truly threatening, rather an irritation. However as perceived in the transition from Batman Begins to The Dark Knight, a fabulous villain in the Joker is all it took to propel the series of films from good to excelsior status. 

Man of Steel is a great, entertaining, all guns blazing blockbuster by all accounts. It is on par with rival Marvel's earlier 2013 superhero flick Iron Man 3, lightyears beyond Captain America, but not quite as shithot as The Avengers.  I only felt let down by my own cinephilic expectations. I'm sure the next films (and there will undoubtably be more) will give more time to the romance between Clark and Lois. Dear Snyder and Nolan: give Kal-El a good villain and a sense of humour, and we're on to a winner.