For anyone that saw the trailer for this film and thought Darren Aronofsky had basically remade Rosemary's Baby (raises hand) think again. For anyone that walks out after the first half of this movie thinking all they've been subjected to is some kind of flipped version of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? ... You have no idea.
For while Darren Aronofsky's 7th feature starts out looking like some partly camp, partly creepy psychological horror movie, it eventually escalates into something triumphantly absurd. Think those trippy scenes In Apocalypse Now, or that rave which opened The Great Beauty, all layered with a great slathering of what I think (but cannot be entirely sure, given Aronofsky's history) is intentional black comedy (Kristen Wiig seems like an invitation to laugh).
Which is to say that this movie is certainly not going to be for everyone, will surely alienate many, should be approached with caution, and viewed with a massively open mind. The fact that somebody had the guts to not only let Aronofsky uncork this mad vision on such a significant canvas, but also distribute it so widely is shockingly impressive.
For me... Well, I felt about it the way that I do about most of Aronofsky's movies. It's unquestionably interesting, he does not exercise the slightest bit of restraint, and what ultimately tips the scales one way or the other is whether or not he (or you think he) is being earnest or giving into and wallowing in the absurdity that he unleashes.
Thematically he leaves you with so many different directions from which to come at it, the environmentalist human as plague/religious angle (revisiting Noah) the pride fuelled ego of the artist angle (revisiting Black Swan) marital disconnect (revisiting The Fountain), the fact that (until the very ending anyway) he remains so abstract and non verbal about what he's doing leaves the movie open to whatever reading you choose to make of it. My problem with it comes narratively. To much of the movie is reliant on the bewildering behaviour of those in it, which is fine once it gets to the second half and wears its insanity so proudly on its sleeve, but the first half of the film struggles because everyone save maybe Michelle Pfeiffer is so earnestly serious that the film suffers major disconnect (though Jennifer Lawrence deserves credit for how un-Lawrence like she is in her meek fragility, but Javier Bardem and Ed Harris have never been this wasted).
That's another not uncommon issue that I have with Aronofsky's films. Though he's clearly very deep thinking in intent, narratively his films too often feel to me disjointed, like different parts have been made by different people, or by the same man on days when he's in entirely different moods, and they generally fail to comfortably gel together. It's an issue that cannot derail them as intellectual exercises, but sure can make them troubling to sit through. That ability to blend 'art' and commerce is what generally makes in my opinion for the very best movies. Aronofsky always seems to have his sights set on perfecting that blend, but for me he rarely gets it done. This movie is weird, interesting, completely off kilter, lol inducing, disturbing, fascinating, and off putting, and that's both a good and bad thing.
