Debated Movies

AO Scott talks about polarizing movies of the summer.

There is a suspicion that “The Tree of Life” could be — or should be, or really is — a touching coming-of-age story, and a similar sense that “The Future,” at bottom, is really just another funny-sad indie movie about a young couple navigating the conflicting demands of work, romance and the desire to be cool. Objecting to the presence of tender dinosaurs and talking cats reflects an impulse to keep these films inside familiar generic boxes. All manner of extravagant fantasy seems to be allowable in the commercial space of the multiplex — robots from outer space, time travel, magic and all the talking animals you want — but the art house is apparently the domain of the literal. We have been conditioned to expect independent movies, “serious” movies, not to venture beyond the horizon of ordinary life.

But why not connect the prose of existence to its deep, strange, cosmic implications? Why not suppose, for example, that attention to a particular boy’s life might entail wondering about the nature of life itself? And why not notice that a youngish couple’s apparently mundane quandaries and decisions — about work, sex, adopting a pet, becoming parents — are local instances of the mysteries that define the human condition? How do we exist in time? What are we supposed to do?

Uh...no...

I haven't seen "The Future," it seems to have lasted about 1 week in the theater, which almost makes it not worth discussing in the context of cinema as a popular art. Nevertheless, I can tell I'll probably not like the film very much (similar to the way I fell in love with Pulp Fiction just when my dad was describing the movie to me, prior to seeing it), but not for the reasons AO seems to be defending it along with Tree of Life. The issue isn't our preconditioning around indy cinema of not ask big questions or going off into fantasy worlds and tones (see Ratcatcher for an effective use of the fantastic), it the style and coherence with which it is done. Tree of Life suffers not from the questions it asks, but from incoherent craft and incompetent story telling. I accuse cinephiles of unconditionally fetishizing filmmakers like Malick (I suppose some can toss Miranda July into this category although I know no one who sees or defends her work) the same way guys fetishize the hottest girl in their high school...and will defend her hotness even once age and the world have gotten the better of her in any objective standard.