Dissecting mother! and Stalker [SPOILERS]
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Dissecting mother! and Stalker [SPOILERS]

When Poetic Cinema Works and When It Doesn't

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Dissecting mother! and Stalker [SPOILERS]
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Darren Aronofsky’s MOTHER! and Andrei Tarkovsky’s STALKER share few superficial similarities, but I venture to guess that they attract the same type of audiences. Both films fit the same rough genre I like to call “Poetic Cinema.” With the inclusion of films such as ERASERHEAD, THE TREE OF LIFE, 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, and SYNECDOCHE, NY, this genre can be defined as any narrative film which relies more heavily on audiovisual metaphors and obtuse communication than pure plot mechanics and action-based storytelling, requiring work from the viewer to interpret its various levels of “meaning.” Also, Poetic Cinema fans tend to be pretentious douchebags. You know the type: scarf-wearing, anti-depressant-ingesting, LES-living, gallery-frequenting, essay-reading, drug-experimenting white people with too much money and time on their hands but still not quite enough to take care of themselves. But hell, it’s not like I’m not considered part of that same group, so why go on about it?

But that’s beside the point. As I was saying, this is not to say a more easily digestible film cannot have deeper meaning (look at THE DARK KNIGHT or PULP FICTION), but generally Poetic Cinema can be rendered incomprehensible if not viewed with enough attention (or, as the Pretentious Douchebag would argue, without enough good taste or intelligence) by the viewer. This is also not to say that all Poetic Cinema is good; in fact, it can often fall flat on its face. I saw both MOTHER! in cinemas and STALKER on its new Criterion Blu Ray in the same week and was struck at how, although both films are trying to pierce through the mind and reach higher levels of introspection in the audience, one of them fails pretty terribly and the other succeeds, if in an ironically more frustrating way. Let’s talk about the bad one first.

Okay, look, I didn’t hate MOTHER!. That would give the film too much credit. But it’s not a good film, and the only way I can go into detail why would force me into SPOILER territory so… you were warned. Anyway, Jlaw is the wife to a crystal-fondling poet played by Javier Bardem (I’d use the characters’ names, but this is Poetic Cinema so you ain’t going to get them) who are living in a house that had recently suffered a terrible fire. Jlaw is in the midst of renovating the house when Ed Harris and his wife, Michelle Pfeiffer, show up and tell Bardem what big fans they are of his writing. Jlaw is annoyed that the couple want to stay there for no apparent reason other than fangirling and tries to evict them, but Bardem likes the attention and lets them stay. Until they play around with the crystal, breaking it, and making Bardem get all pissy and banishing them from the paradise. Also, Ed Harris has a really big scar on his ribcage, and Michelle Pfeiffer likes alcoholic lemon drinks and leaves the remnants of the tree-fruit around. I didn’t get the metaphor at this point because I’m a little dense, but once their sons showed up to argue about their father’s will and one brother kills the other brother, it all made sense.


DO YOU GET IT? IT’S THE BIBLE! OMG!

And the rest of the movie goes on like this, eventually escalating into literal religious wars in the house and a memorably in-bad-taste baby-eating scene that’s clearly a Jesus allegory until the entire pad is destroyed except for Bardem, who is obviously God, going so far as to say “I am I.”

Now, here’s the problem. The movie is completely nonsensical unless you understand the metaphor. People still argue over the possible meanings of ERASERHEAD, and while there is a general consensus of what it all means, the debate still rages on. This isn’t to say that what makes the movie good is that it’s opaque: David Lynch could come out right now and say exactly what he meant to say with that film and ERASERHEAD would still be great. Why? Because it works on its own merits as a narrative. It may not reflect a reality portrayed in most mainstream cinema, but it does create its own universe and explores philosophical meanings within it. In the case of MOTHER!, once you figure out the key, the entire piece falls apart because it’s that incredibly dependent on outside references. Yeah, great, it’s the Bible. So what? That we shouldn’t destroy the Earth? What is this, a student film? (And yeah, it often feels like a very expensive film written by a clever 14 year old.) When a film relies so heavily on extratextual support, it neglects the need to maintain cohesion as a narrative within its own internal context. Any tension flies out the window, and you know that all of this is a gaudy representation of another story. (However, if the film had simply been a modern retelling of the Bible a la ROMEO+JULIET, I might’ve enjoyed it more, but Aronofsky himself mixes up the metaphors by throwing in environmentalist and religious extremism commentary into the mix.)

And this leads me to Tarkovsky’s STALKER, and, in a weird way, to Von Trier’s ANTICHRIST. I’m generally quite a big fan of the Danish maniac’s work and was introduced to Tarkovsky’s work because that’s Lars’s hero, and ANTICHRIST is mostly influenced by SOLARIS and THE MIRROR with a splash of STALKER. And MOTHER! reminded me quite a bit of ANTICHRIST. And in ANTICHRIST, a grieving couple with no names go into a forest named Eden (yes, really) and try to overcome the death of their son with poorly-advised sessions of psychotherapy. It’s a horror movie about anxiety, and despite the fact it features genital mutilation, overt discussions of misogyny, and an ending in which Willem Dafoe is (I think?) Adam and is getting ready to fornicate with a bunch of faceless ladies to start a new species, the content is handled with much more expertise and maturity than MOTHER!. And that’s really saying a lot about MOTHER! when, by comparison, I’m accusing Lars Von Trier of subtlety.

Anyway, that line of logic persuaded me to check out the Blu Ray of STALKER (which Criterion did a fantastic job with). Although three hours long and sleep-inducingly slow, I’d put it into the category of Good Poetic Cinema. Weirdly, its greatness is neither because of its pace or despite of it. I just simply couldn’t imagine the film executed in any other way, and that’s a huge credit to Tarkovsky. The story, on the surface, is simple enough. In the near future, a guide, aka Stalker, leads people from a sepia-colored world into a full colored world of the Zone that the government really doesn't want you to go into. In the Zone, there is a place called The Room, where your deepest desire can come true (presumably, in my case, it's watching the Tommy Wiseau film). In the film, he leads a Writer and a Professor, and they examine their own existential and philosophical questions.

Simple enough, right? But aided with masterful cinematography, good acting, unnerving sound design, and philosophical conversations that are handled just right, it's propelled into the realm of Great Arthouse Cinema. Would I consider it among my favorite movies? Probably not just because I'd rather be emotionally stimulated by a film than intellectually stimulated, and that's my own personal preference. It also explains my opinions on SEVEN SAMURAI and CITIZEN KANE: respect more than admiration.

Unlike MOTHER!, STALKER can have a million different interpretations. In my opinion, I believe The Room is a metaphor for Heaven. It's supposedly a paradise where all your dreams are reality, and this is what you experience forever, but nobody actually wants to go there. It can't be completely because of the unknown dimension of it; otherwise, every devout Christian wouldn't look both ways when crossing the street. We all fear death, much like the characters in STALKER fear going into The Room directly. Maybe I'm completely wrong, but at least Tarkovsky made me think for a few minutes instead of Aronofsky, who had me scratching my head for about 20 minutes and then just passively watch a narrative showcasing his own narcissism.

But you should still see Aronofsky's THE WRESTLER because it's perfect.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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