I sort of have this theory that human beings' endless capacity for telling and hearing stories of whatever form or type is part of a collective effort to create a master narrative of existence, and once the essential story is complete, we'll all understand the meaning of life. It's an idea that I turn over in my head every now and then, especially when I'm exposed to what seems a particularly well-crafted tale, and especially if it represents a variation on a common theme (that is, it resembles a wide variety of other stories I've heard, without being identical). I don't know if this theory necessarily holds water-- but its a notion that keeps popping into my head and leads to almost endless consideration when I start applying it to specific cases.
Last night I went to see
The Brothers Bloom written and directed by Rian Johnson and starring Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel Weisz and Rinko Kikuchi. It's an incredibly entertaining movie of the Con Game genre, both funny and fun for most of its running time as one becomes more and more acquainted with the personal idiosyncracies of the main characters. The story is propelled less by the details of the con, which was frankly too intricate and too boring to spark much interest on my part beyond recognizing it as necessary to bring together the mostly goofy cast of characters, including Robbie Coltrane and Maximilian Schell in smaller roles. Johnson clearly enjoys wordplay and referencing other well-known stories, which create a sense of depth to the proceedings even when not a lot is really happening with respect to propeling its own plot forward (or at least it often seemed that way to me). The irony of this is that the con at the center of that plot, like the movie itself, is scripted. Brody's character longs to live an unscripted life (as Ruffalo's older brother character keeps meticulously rewriting the details of their fraternal story-- with Weisz's character seizing an opportunity to collaborate as well). In the end, these multiple efforts to construct alternate tales, shaped by competing priorities, lead to a muddled finale. But I'm not sure if that's the fault of the ultimate scriptwriter Johnson's inability to tie it together effectively; or, alternatively, an astute recognition that the varied individual efforts to "write" their own respective fates are always ultimately irreconcilable (which kind of blows a hole in the theory I introduced above), at least to the degree that there can ever be a truly comprehensive happy ending. I'd like to give Johnson the benefit of the doubt and assume the latter explanation, but if so I also have to acknowledge that it meant this viewer was left a little disappointed by the end of the film, not because it strikes a blow to my theory, but because I've been trained like most of us to anticipate the happy ending, especially if the preceding ninety minutes are as high-spirited and funny as was the case here. But please don't take that as an "un-endorsement." The film is well worth seeing, and I plan to see it again myslef. Maybe I'll have a different take after a second viewing, but I doubt I'll enjoy it any less.
I sort of have this theory that human beings' endless capacity for telling and hearing stories of whatever form or type is part of a collective effort to create a master narrative of existence, and once the essential story is complete, we'll all understand the meaning of life. It's an idea that I turn over in my head every now and then, especially when I'm exposed to what seems a particularly well-crafted tale, and especially if it represents a variation on a common theme (that is, it resembles a wide variety of other stories I've heard, without being identical). I don't know if this theory necessarily holds water-- but its a notion that keeps popping into my head and leads to almost endless consideration when I start applying it to specific cases.
Last night I went to see The Brothers Bloom written and directed by Rian Johnson and starring Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel Weisz and Rinko Kikuchi. It's an incredibly entertaining movie of the Con Game genre, both funny and fun for most of its running time as one becomes more and more acquainted with the personal idiosyncracies of the main characters. The story is propelled less by the details of the con, which was frankly too intricate and too boring to spark much interest on my part beyond recognizing it as necessary to bring together the mostly goofy cast of characters, including Robbie Coltrane and Maximilian Schell in smaller roles. Johnson clearly enjoys wordplay and referencing other well-known stories, which create a sense of depth to the proceedings even when not a lot is really happening with respect to propeling its own plot forward (or at least it often seemed that way to me). The irony of this is that the con at the center of that plot, like the movie itself, is scripted. Brody's character longs to live an unscripted life (as Ruffalo's older brother character keeps meticulously rewriting the details of their fraternal story-- with Weisz's character seizing an opportunity to collaborate as well). In the end, these multiple efforts to construct alternate tales, shaped by competing priorities, lead to a muddled finale. But I'm not sure if that's the fault of the ultimate scriptwriter Johnson's inability to tie it together effectively; or, alternatively, an astute recognition that the varied individual efforts to "write" their own respective fates are always ultimately irreconcilable (which kind of blows a hole in the theory I introduced above), at least to the degree that there can ever be a truly comprehensive happy ending. I'd like to give Johnson the benefit of the doubt and assume the latter explanation, but if so I also have to acknowledge that it meant this viewer was left a little disappointed by the end of the film, not because it strikes a blow to my theory, but because I've been trained like most of us to anticipate the happy ending, especially if the preceding ninety minutes are as high-spirited and funny as was the case here. But please don't take that as an "un-endorsement." The film is well worth seeing, and I plan to see it again myslef. Maybe I'll have a different take after a second viewing, but I doubt I'll enjoy it any less.
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