The Fountain was the first film I’d seen in a theater after being sick for a bit, so I was naturally quite upset when the credits started rolling and I had no idea what had just transpired.
Here’s what I got. There are three plots: past, present, and future, and Hugh Jackman is in all three of them. In the past, he plays a conquistador searching for a Mayan tree of life to free his queen, in the present he plays a medical researcher who is looking for a cure to save his cancer stricken wife, and in the future he is bald, traveling with a tree in a self-contained celestial bubble, and looking a lot like Dr. Evil. I couldn’t possibly spoil the ending for potential Fountain viewers. I have no idea what happened.
There were several possible reasons for my confoundedness. One could be that I'm a shallow-watered shrimp brain who isn't capable of inhabiting the oceanic depth of Darren Aronofsky's genius. Another is that Darren Aronofsky is an terrible filmmaker, I was justified in my confusion, and had just wasted one hour and thirty six minutes of my life. The former of these possibilities is my favorite. After all, I'm certainly not capable of directing cinematic brilliance, and this guy made Requiem for a Dream. Who doesn't like Requiem? Heck, I didn't even know what the word 'requiem' meant when I first watched the film. Who am I to be critical?
I was quasi- comforted by the fact that my movie viewing companion didn't seem to be too into the action either; his head kept lolling around on his shoulders and, intermittently between these physical fits of boredom, he sent emails on his blackberry. But I’m the type who is usually pretty convinced of everyone else's intellectual superiority, so I was terrified he’d turn to me at the movie's end and lament for having been forced to sit through such an easily predictable, simple-minded soap opera. Thank God; he didn't get it either.
I was still frantic though; I had to know, at that very instant, in that very theater where the craziness has just gone down, what the hell it all meant. I absolutely hate it when I'm duped by a movie. Loading reviews on the blackberry, I could already envision the kind of crap that was likely being written about The Fountain; gushing, free-flowing 'fountainesque' commentary from cultured film buffs who all have a grip on the quintessential meaning of life. Either that, or a bunch of self-conscious, 'think I'm smart' ravings from people who are afraid not to like something because one of the above film buffs called it 'art.'
There was a little of this nonsense: 'This is a terrifically stylish film that warrants multiple viewings to catch the director’s subtleties of story and multi-layered meaning.' whines REELING REVIEWS. I'd like to complain a little here: If I've got to watch a movie 'multiple times' to appreciate it, the director had better slap three viewings of his masterpiece together and make me sit through the entire marathon; I'd rather sacrifice the six hours for some sense of satisfaction than leave the theater with my shorts in a bunch after just two.
Yet, for the most part, all the other movie reviewing geeks didn’t get The Fountain either. But it’s a bad thing to watch a (especially this) movie on an empty stomach, and later as I munched on some pizza, I think I got a grip on it. The movie isn't meant to be taken literally, and since I am an entirely literal girl, getting past this initial roadblock was difficult. It's actually quite a beautiful metaphor: time travel symbolic of boundless grief, self torture, and isolated confusion. There was a lot to say about the past and the future - their subjectivity and their insignificance to the present. It was really a beautiful visual. I liken the viewing of The Fountain to other aquatic beauties, like fish tanks. You’ve got no idea where the fish are going, but they look like they have a grip on things, and they sure are pretty, so you just want to keep on staring. Hugh Jackman made me want to cry, even as he acted out a perturbing, nonsensical script, and Rachel Weisz is much better as the silently out of reach beauty she plays in this film than the mechanical, unsympathetic witch from The Shape of Things that I always seem to associate her with.
If you are going to watch this movie, please humble yourself to unreality and meditate beforehand. Or just close your eyes and listen to the fantastic soundtrack.
Liz Licorish
Comments directed to: LizFlix@gmail.com
