Friday, March 16, 2018

ANNIHILATION: Terror Of The Familiar Becoming Unknown

WARNING: The following analysis contains numerous spoilers for Annihilation. If you want to avoid knowing anything ahead of time, I'd recommend going out to see the film 
before reading my expanded thoughts on it. It should also be noted that this was originally an English paper that I thought turned out well enough to warrant a full-on blog post.



In my experience, there are two primary ways of articulating themes of exploring the unknown in cinematic language. On one hand, you can go for the lighthearted/optimistic approach like what Steven Spielberg did with Close Encounters Of The Third Kind and Denis Villeneuve did with Arrival. On the other hand, you can go with the nihilistic/pessimistic like what Ridley Scott did with Alien, John Carpenter did with The Thing, and now what Alex Garland has done with Annihilation. Loosely based on the 2014 novel of the same name by Jeff VanDerMeer, the basic premise of Annihilation involves a small group of female scientists who investigate the unnatural events going on within an area overtaken by extraterrestrial vegetation that the government has dubbed “The Shimmer”.

Perhaps the most obvious example of this idea is seen in the biology of the various wildlife contained within The Shimmer. Early in the film, the protagonists encounter a whole dockyard engulfed in flowers (only to discover that these flowers are hybrids of entirely different species attached to one continuously growing vine); but, it doesn’t end there. Not too long after that, they encounter a seemingly normal looking alligator attacks the group. Once it’s slain and the scientists begin an autopsy, it’s revealed that the extent of the area’s mutations aren’t just limited to plants. There’s also a bear with a human skull and an uncanny ability to perfectly mimic the of its victims. To list the full extent of these alterations would be far too time-consuming; but, suffice it to say, even background details such as white deer with plants growing out of their antlers add to the film’s interesting persona of strange beauty, existential horror and elegiac atmospherics.

Near the end of the film’s first act, Lena (Natalie Portman) is informed on background information about the other scientists joining her on this expedition (Gina Rodriguez’s Anya is revealed to be a recovering alcoholic, Tessa Thompson’s Josie has a history of cutting herself to “feel alive”, Jennifer Jason Leigh’s Dr. Ventress has an icy cold persona with no personal life outside of the expedition, etc). With that in mind, there seems to be a sense of dark irony to the deaths of each character. Remember that bear I mentioned in the previous paragraph? Not only does it kill off Sheppard (arguably the most empathetic character in the film) by tearing her to pieces and returning to the other protagonists with her screams of terror still remaining as a haunting reminder of who they just lost, it gruesomely rips out Anya’s throat and lower jaw (taking away the body parts needed to aide such a vice such as alcoholism). Josie meets an end that brings to mind Cronenberg-esque body horror where leaves sprout out of the scars on her forearms, eventually disappearing into one of the many skeletal tree structures the team encountered mere moments ago (creating life from attempts at causing death). As for Ventress, I’ll get to her in the concluding paragraph. For now, I’ll say that her fate is about as inscrutable and puzzling as her own identity.

Critical reception for the film has been quite positive, with a lot of the praise naturally going towards the unique visuals and thought-provoking concepts. I’d even go as far to as to say that there’s a pretty good chance it’s going to make a lot of “Best of the Year” lists once 2018 has come to a close. As for its box office intake, that’s been less than stellar as mainstream audiences seem to be more or less apathetic to the whole production (with the film earning a C grade from CinemaScore and only taking in around $20 million on an estimated production budget of $55 million). Now, granted, a lot of this could be blamed on a couple producers who opted to dump this masterpiece on Netflix in territories outside the US and Canada out of fear for the movie being “too intellectual” for foreign audiences. Bear in mind, this came from the same producer who financed the bastion of stupidity that was Geostorm; so, make of that what you will. Then again, a wider theatrical release almost led to studio-mandated changes (the most notable of which was a less ambiguous ending) that might’ve killed the movie. So, it’s still disappointing that foreign audiences won’t get the chance to see this in it’s best state. Regardless, at least this is a rare instance of creative vision coming out on top against studio executive groupthink.

As for its relation to the era it was made in, that’s where things get tricky. Sometimes, there are instances where a film’s context in the world it was made in doesn’t become clear until enough time passes and this is no exception. Are there movies where socio-political implications are tangible from the get-go? Definitely. The Purge franchise has a clear stance on America’s class divide and Get Out handles racial themes in ways that couldn’t be done before the 2010s; but, Annihilation is a very different creature from those productions in this way and many others. What I can say is that themes of mistrust, changing societal norms and potential obsolescence of the military are certainly there; however, they either aren’t explored to where I could properly talk about them or won’t be readily apparent in terms of subtextual depth until more time passes from the film’s initial release.

Near the end of the film, Lena reaches the coastal lighthouse where the Shimmer was first spawned and after some really weird stuff happens (short version: Jennifer Jason Leigh’s Dr. Ventress turns into a whole stream of trippy lights and, through a bit of Lena’s blood being combined with said lights, produces a creature that’s unrecognizably alien while simultaneously being distinctly human). For a while, it copies her exact movements beat-for-beat before transforming into an exact replica of herself. Such a contained yet impactful moment pretty much encapsulates the whole film in a nutshell. Over the course 115 minutes, we see reflections of familiar things such as nature and our own human flaws twisted into forms that become disturbingly distorted. Or, to quote one of Lena’s monologues during the closing minutes, “It wasn’t destroying anything. It was creating something new.” Sure, there are small echoes of films such as Arrival and John Carpenter’s The Thing (even the basic premise of exploring an unknown territory brings to mind Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker); yet, it’s able to skillfully weave those influences into a film that looks and feels utterly original. It’s certainly a film from this decade (what with its strong female leads and top-of-the-line visual effects); but, when it comes to almost every other aspect, it feels like it would fit snuggly alongside sci-fi pictures from the 1970s. The psychedelically esoteric visuals combined with Ben Salisbury & Geoff Barrow’s score (which often ranges from gentle guitar cues to droning synth melodies to create a palpable sense of impending doom and experiential dread) and cinematography that’s able to frame scenes in broad daylight while still establishing a sense of unease coalesce into a directorial vision that shares some common ground with other modern speculative science fiction films while taking a significantly different path than those flicks. Even the lighting plays a massive part in the movie. It feels naturalistic and recognizable during most of the film and devolves into something more striking and minimalist. A shot that always sticks out to me is Natalie Portman’s silhouette juxtaposed against the Shimmer’s destruction surrounding her. Her previous perceptions of the world she inhabits forever shattered and expanded. So much to be taken away from in a single image. What Alex Garland has crafted along with his cast and crew is a film open to countless interpretations that can be taken from it. Implicit or otherwise, there are so many themes outside of what’s been discussed in this essay worthy of discussion. Despite its apathetic response from common moviegoers, I’m getting a good feeling we’re going to be talking about this picture years after it initially hit the multiplexes.

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