Above: Noah (Russell Crowe) and family face the apocalypse
Fifteen—that’s how old I was
when I first encountered Darren Aronofsky’s “The Fountain.” Back then, sitting in a downtown multiplex
with my first girlfriend, I laughed gleefully at the film’s kookiness,
especially during the scene where Hugh Jackman transforms into an inferno of
urine-colored light. Yet I never forgot
the movie and in time, it taught me one of the most important things I’ve ever learned—that
films don’t always need to have a clear meaning. That sometimes, poetry and emotion can be
meaning enough.
I also loved “The Fountain” because it was a mythical
fantasy and for years, I looked forward to seeing Mr. Aronofsky return to that
realm with his bible-based epic “Noah.”
But having seen the film, I find myself sadly disappointed. Yes, “Noah” is clearly an Aronofsky joint,
but it is also oddly pedestrian, devoid of eloquence, and leached of beauty by
the dull mountains and colorless oceans where the story unfolds. And even though the movie is thematically
bold (it contradicts popular belief by painting Noah as an axe-murdering soldier
of god), it is also painfully straightforward and, I’m sorry to say, boring.
Alas, the main reason for that is Noah (Russell Crowe) himself. In part because of Mr. Crowe’s inability to
properly emote, his presence is remarkably sleep-inducing, especially when he stoically
lectures his family (get used to it; more than half the film is taken up by
Noah pontificating about The Sins of Humanity). Soon, however, it is Noah’s turn to be schooled
when he visits his grandfather, Methuselah (Anthony Hopkins). And it is there, in Methuselah’s cave, that
Noah realizes that god means for him not only to survive a coming apocalyptic
flood, but to save the animals of the Earth as well.
Whether or not you are religious, you will probably find
this story familiar. Yet Mr. Aronofsky
chose to dampen the usually lighthearted tale of Noah with familial strife. To begin with, Noah’s family is horrified by
the prospect of letting every human being die while they survive on the ark
Noah builds. Yet there are other, more
personal prospects at play. Noah’s son
Ham (Logan Lerman), for one, wants to get married before the big
flood—something that Noah is adamantly against.
Thus, much of the film hinges upon a clash between the human desires of
Noah’s children and the superhuman desire of Noah to carry out god’s will,
stubbornly stifling the needs of those closest to him.
On some level, I admire Mr. Aronofsky for spinning out
this conflict; it does make the film more satisfying than a painfully
paper-thin blockbuster like “The Avengers.”
Yet in trying to make a complex and meaningful movie, he has instead a made
an excruciatingly depressing one. Gruff
and invincible, Noah carries out what he believes to be god’s will with
ruthless determination, even at one point attempting to murder a baby because
he believes his creator wishes it.
Interesting? Maybe. Yet the movie is filled with so much grim
anguish that it becomes intolerably dark, even as its hero becomes increasingly
sheep-like and difficult to connect to.
Of course, that moment with the attempted baby killing has
something to do with that. It is the
film’s most pivotal scene—the one where Noah must decide how far he’s willing
to venture in the service of his creator.
And in the end, he chooses not to make the kill. Why, he is asked? “Because,” Mr. Crowe declares in his ceaseless
monotone, “I felt only love in my heart.”
But I don’t buy it.
In the scene where Noah almost commits this savage act, the camera focuses
only on the sharp blade hovering over the baby’s small forehead; not even for
an instant does it peer into Noah’s eyes to reveal the love that he claims to
feel. And that is why I believe that for
all his talent, Mr. Aronofsky has made a film that is less a profound
exploration of a legendary story than a hulking slab of high-minded torture
porn. Doubtless, he believed that dramatizing
Noah’s cruelty would lead to a realm of fascinating moral ambiguity, but the
character struck me as little more than a bad parent and a lame excuse for a
director to indulge his penchant for queasily fetishistic brutality.
Still,
if that’s the kind of movie Mr. Aronofsky wanted to make, I’m happy for him; he’s
a bold and talented artist and he deserves the chance to flourish. But for me, the result of his efforts is too
bleakly one dimensional to enjoy, even on an academic level. And beyond that, the film is simply too flat
and unimaginative to sustain your attention for long. “Let me tell you a story,” Noah says to his
family in the film’s third act.
Compelled by the script, the actors look at him with something
resembling rapt attention. But I must
confess that all I could think was: please don’t.
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