Noah
(2014)
Given the amount of discussion it has heralded, the talk of
how it is difficult, how it doesn’t take the course of your average Hollywood
blockbuster, and how it may offend those of a Biblical persuasion (no small
deal when the mighty dollar is at stake and this group is surely envisaged as
the film’s bread-and-butter audience), I expected Noah to be a much more interesting film than it is. Particularly
given director Darren Aronofsky’s previous pictures, not all of them
masterpieces but every one thought provoking and resonant. Here he takes a
couple of chapters of The Bible and
expands them with scant regard for whether there is sufficient material to
justify his action. The result? He is unable to populate his film with
sufficiently interesting or multi-dimensional characters to sustain its scale
and scope. Additionally, the attempts to imbue Noah with “challenging” ideas and pose pertinent questions about
how we are treating our world carries more wisdom than if, say, Michael Bay was
at the helm of the ship but not that
much more. Given Aronofsky’s inventiveness and elaboration on The Bible, you come away wishing his
invention had been more inventive. Or, and this is the crunch, wondering how
much more stimulating Noah would have
been if he’d tackled the warts-and-all implications of Genesis.
Treating a text such as this with overt earnestness, and then
labouring all your themes, you’re ripe for the kind of mockery that was second
nature to Monty Python (or even Mel Brooks). If you go this route you absolutely need to imbue your material with
dramatic heft for it to work. If you leave your audience the space to idly
ponder the daftness of the scenario, that’s when you’ve entirely lost them.
Aronofsky needed to foster pace and incident, John Cusack in a limo out-pacing
the encroaching flood waters, rather than the one-note, going through the
motions, relationships between Noah and his kin. The only other way I could see
Aronofsky’s sceptical approach to Noah (the character) working is if he had fully
embraced a Terrence Malick-esque subjectivity, that interior voice wondering
and debating whether the Creator (Aronofosky doesn’t refer to God; the
director’s Biblical literalism is cherry-picked, as God never has a voice in
the story, despite there being most definite supernatural/miraculous acts)
really has a plan. Such fractured perceptions might have been a way of fleshing
out a bare bones narrative in a semi-compelling manner. But Aronofosky’s film
is so much filler. At two-and-a-quarter hours it feels much much longer, and it only occasionally
sparks into life with a compelling set piece or moral debate.
The director’s whole approach is curious. As an atheist, he
has taken the interesting choice of embracing many of the fundamentalist and
less easy to swallow aspects, at times elaborating and pushing further in that
direction. The rock monster Watchers, for example, are one of the more
fascinating peeks into a semi-hidden history in The Bible; a mere few lines
referencing the Nephilim, the (offspring of) the fallen angels. But he chooses
to render them in Lord of the Rings
CGI fashion, a decision that robs them of the myth and majesty of the concept,
and the most resonant idea of the temptations of the flesh (and the fall); the
idea that these angels stumbled when they slept with women and fostered a race
of giants is surely more coherent with Aronofsky’s themes than the noble
version shown here (they were embroiled in the physical world when they came
down to help mankind). Their big moment of “clobbering time”, as Tubal-Cain’s
band of bastardly humans attempt to get aboard the Ark, recalls nothing so much
as the Ents storming Isengard, taking out multitudes of Orcs as they do so. While
Aronofosky visualises their entanglement in matter in an interesting way, turning
them into semi-cute sloppy-moving creatures, it is perhaps the least
fascinating thing he could have done with them. Particularly when they set to
work building the ark (very usefully for Noah that, puts paid to a lot of heavy
lifting). As for their eventual escape from their physical bonds… if they could
have done that all along why didn’t they do it earlier?
Aronofsky also wants to treat his humans in a realistic,
hard-edged manner. His depiction of the antediluvian Earth finds an unarresting
semi-barren terrain we’ve seen in many a post-apocalyptic movie (and there are
enough cues to suggest Noah could, at
a pinch, be set in the future, which ties in neatly with the environmental
theme). This should be a world we’re sorry to lose, not one that’s already been
lost. I did a double take at the last scene, at what looked a little like the
stretch of beach from the end of Planet
of the Apes. Aronofsky’s one nod to the idea that the pre-Flood environment
was different is the visible stars in daytime; there’s certainly nothing exotic
here (the occasional invented species aside; maybe he should have shown Noah
flipping out with dinosaurs). Of course, to have a lush environment would
rather defeat the goal of presenting man as the ruination of the Earth. So
Aronofsky has to bend and fit it every which way to tend his vision. Noah is a
vegan too (as is the director), which tallies with The Bible, the preservation theme and the idea of his being a
keeper of the memory of Eden.
This unkempt fusion of hard-edged grimness with Peter
Jackson fantasy (except without Jackson’s energy) continues through to the
depiction of the Ark. It’s a J J Abrams mystery box devoid of mystery. The
animals succumb to a magic sleeping draught, which presumably preserves them in
a kind of hypersleep until Noah awakes them with his special medicare kit (they
have to be aroused in the correct manner, mind). So the two-by-two approach is
retained (just two woozy mosquitos?) and the general unlikeness and enormity of
the task, but the difficult logic of how to feed them and clean up after them
requires attention? Yeah, because people would totally buy into it otherwise.
This comes after Gandalf, I mean Methuselah, and his magic beans, I mean seed
from Eden, sprouts a forest in seconds. There’s also the magic skin of the Serpent;
I don’t know what fascinating nook of Aronofsky’s mind this comes from but it
doesn’t have much power even as the symbol of returned heritage. It looks
silly, because it we aren’t invested in its meaning.
Methuselah (Anthony Hopkins, of course, as he actually is that old now) potters about with some
very Gandalf-like magic tricks up his sleeve and a quest for berries. Methuselah
curiously buys the farm as the floodwaters rush in, such his fruit obsession.
Noah doesn’t offer to bring his 969 year-old grandpappy along (I think it’s
generally considered that Methuselah dies pre-Flood), whose genuine magic
(refertilising Emma Watson’s Ila) is supplemented by your common or garden
shamanism (drugging Noah to induce more visions of disaster; also in support of
this all arising from Noah’s self-induced divinatory skills rather than at the
Creator’s behest). Noah doesn’t hear God, certainly not in any empirical sense;
he has prophetic dreams, just like any modern doomsayer who is invariably
proven wrong.
While I’m critical of the push-pull between Aronofsky’s
opposing inclinations in making the film, he occasionally produces something
winning or drops in a reference without making a meal of it. How Enoch walked
on with God was always a particularly evocative in Genesis, and it crops up
casually in conversation between Noah and gramps. I really liked the
visualisation of the waters rising from the Earth. Noah’s light source is a bit
too much like magic fairy dust, but on the other hand Tubal-Cain’s rocket
launcher is random enough to be quite groovy. There was a chance here to go for
it with the idea of pre-historic technology (see also Edgar Cayce and
Atlantis), but for all the talk of how much he goes off the beaten track, it’s
repeatedly disappointing to discover how much Aronofsky has reined himself in.
How mundane the results are.
Yet, when it comes to Noah telling a story – be it the
Watchers’ descent into matter, or the account of the seven days of Creation – Aronofsky
excels. The latter is a magnificent sequence, as God and evolution merge
together to make everyone happy. Or, more probably, unhappy. There are
intimations of the kind of gnostic ideas explored in Jonathan Black’s The Secret History of the World, with
Adam and Eve depicted as shining beings not yet sealed into matter. Or maybe
he’s just shouting out to Kubrick’s glowing Star Child.
Elsewhere, Noah’s journey into the wretched hive of scum and
villainy that is man’s encampment has a palpably bestial horror. It’s the
confirmation of everything he fears about the evils of humanity, and the moment
we can best comprehend his decision. Later, we hear the sounds and screams of
those clinging to yet-to-be-submerged outcrops (Aronofsky appears to be inspired
by Doré’s
The Deluge) above the wind and rain,
as Noah sits impassively over his family while they plead with him to show
mercy.
Visually Noah is
quite dour. I like much of regular Aronofsky cinematographer Matthew
Libatique’s work, but here he merely contributes to a generally derivative and
unengaging visual style. the unadorned Ark is symptomatic of Aronofsky's what-if aesthetic; there's something deeply at-odds with itself in having a functional container fashioned by Rock Monsters. Everyone is adorned with the kind of designer duds
we’re used to from the likes of Jack the
Giant Slayer and Clash of the Titans (reboots)
and that’s not meant as a compliment. No matter what purported era of history
or fantasy you’re transported to, if it’s Hollywood there’ll be a young hero in
a hoody. Guaranteed. Clint Mansell’s score is solid, but too reminiscent of The Fountain in places; not a good
thing, since that film is superior in every conceivable way to Noah.
In the end, the absence of the Old Testament God is as
problematic as the removal of the Olympians from Troy; there’s nothing especially gripping about a nutter obsessed
with the end of the world that we haven’t seen many times before. If this is actually at the behest of a
belligerent Creator, isn’t that a more interesting and difficult premise to
explore? Doesn’t it get to the root of His less than benevolent depiction in Genesis? Aronofsky plunges into fantasy
but lets God off the hook. Perhaps because his fascination only extends so far;
I’d argue that the idea that God regrets the creation of man is the most interesting part of the tale. If
Aronofosky was making the story of Abraham (which he actually seems much more
attuned to, if Noah’s tests of faith are anything to go by), he’d be seized by
a furious headache and drag his son off to the slaughter; it’s no good
psychologising a story with 21st century insights if you lose what
makes it so powerful in the first place.
If you’re going to muster the mythic for a Biblical epic, at
least attempt to make it enthralling. Aronofsky seems to have perversely
fixated on neither side. There’s too much fantasy to embrace the horror/wonder of
the end of the world, and he’s too down-to-earth to really go for broke with
his visualisation. The battle for the soul of man has no import when Aronofsky
can muster only stereotypes not archetypes. This doesn’t look so much different
to any gritty version of an epic myth we’ve seen since in the near-15 years
since Gladiator, but it has no engine
to keep it going. We are not entertained. It takes enough time to get to the
Flood, but at least there’s a modicum of momentum there. The manufactured
crisis of faith never grips, despite Crowe giving it his all (and a number of
daft haircuts).
With God exiting stage left, Aronofsky needs his antagonist.
Other than the duelling Noahs, that is (another nice moment, of Luke on Dagobah
proportions, has Noah seeing himself in the pit of iniquity that is the human
encampment). Tubal-Cain is Hollywood villainy at its most banal. I’ve
seen it said his character has a point. If so, it only ever rings true when
Noah’s gone right off the deep end, as Tubal is only ever a nasty piece of
work. Obviously, since he’s played by Ray Fackin’ Winstone. Or rather, Ray
Winstone with a natty two-pronged beard. Since The Bible doesn’t mention that Ray Winstone didn’t stowaway aboard the Ark, Aronofsky quite reasonably assumes
he might have done.
Any valid sentiments Tubal-Cain has about Noah’s behaviour
and dooming mankind to a watery grave are thus nullifed. But this goes back to
the idea of leaving out God as the bad guy (or Bad Guy). We have no sympathy
for Tubal-Cain as soon as we see him killing Noah’s pops (ain’t that
symmetrical?), and because Winstone plays him in fackin’ cant mode (does he
ever play anyone in any other?) it’s going to be an uphill struggle to accept
his point of view. His surrogate play for Ham’s allegiance is fairly weak
stuff, weakly argued, and when it comes to the big confrontation, which plays
out in a four-way encounter lacking any tension, we can only conclude that, if
Ray had absented himself, the picture might at least have ended fifteen minutes
earlier (not enough of an excision, but a start). As with the big G, if
Aronofsky had taken a different tack, casting someone urbane as a counterpoint
to Noah, so the reason in his words had a chance to shine through, he might
have created a genuine tension between ethoses (blubbery Val Kilmer was
considered, and he’d have been a much better choice, as would Liev Schrieber so
long as he wasn’t in Sabretooth mode). Instead Tubal-Cain disgusts everyone by
extinguishing a species every time he gets peckish.
It’s been said that the Noah of The Bible is something of a blank slate; he “listens and acts”. Which most certainly isn’t the interpretation of
Aronofsky and Crowe. Here, Noah has visions and gets tough (and, as noted, the
Watchers do all the building while Noah props up a shovel). Crowe is strong and intense as only he can
be, and on the few occasions he’s allowed to show softness the realisation of
Noah as a fully embodied character peeps through the rain cloudes (these occur
mostly during the first half; his dissolution into acceptance when he’s about
to off his grandkids has been so over-egged it completely flounders).
Unfortunately, the character is mostly one-note, and his obsessiveness quickly becomes
tiresome.
There’s a fantastic scene where Noah goes out to find Ham
(Logan Lerman, whose performance might be the strongest in the film, certainly
the one that makes the most out of fairly little) as the rains lash down and
the rush of Tubal-Cain’s forces arrives. Ham, rather obsessed with finding a
home for Mr Perky, has ventured into the world of men to find a wife. He finds
Na’el (Madison Davenport) and as he leads her back to safety she gets caught in
a bear trap (damn things get everywhere). Noah looms out of the woods and pulls
Ham to safety as Na’el gets trodden into the ground by the onslaught. This
moment encapsulates why Noah is wrong; we really don’t need another hour of
Winstone fackin’ cursing him or Noah getting all infanticidal at the prospect
of Ila giving birth to a girl. Noah’s struggle should engage on some level, but
it ends up beating you into semi-oblivion.
If Ham is relatively well drawn, Aronofsky leaves out the
character’s most famous moment; Noah cursing him and his line on discovering dad
pissed out of his gourd and in the nuddy; as any good father would. The
extremity of Noah’s response has given rise to speculation that Ham got up to
other terrible things on discovering a bladdered daddy but, as Mel Gibson knows
well, people will talk any old shit
when they’re pissed. There’s also a whole distasteful racial interpretation to
Ham’s cursed lineage that has gained cachet at various points (particularly
since it presented a handy convenience to justify slavery), most recently by
Mormons. Aronofsky’s makes a curious break with Genesis here by sending Ham off alone. Maybe he’ll return at some
point after Noah has expired, and marry one of his twin sisters. Incest is left
as the elephant in the room in the Noah story, and Aronofsky manages to both
leave it unsaid and emphasise it with Ila’s twin daughters. Perhaps genes were
much more resilient back then.
The rest of the family are complete non-entities.
Understandably since Mrs Noah doesn’t even merit a name in The Bible, Aronofsky tries to give her some form. He does a lousy
job, is all. Jennifer Connelly is forgettable in her second (well, third with
Crowe if you count Winter’s Tale)
teaming with Crow and Aronofsky. She made much more of an impression in both
those previous roles (the lousy A
Beautiful Mind and the overwrought Requiem
for a Dream respectively. Emma Watson, on the other hand, is outright
terrible as Ila. And she’s the one given the big emotional scenes, blubbing
over her new-borns and delivering a “Duh, really?” speech at the end that only
stands out for being a complete clock-watcher. Still, at least you couldn’t call
her forgettable. Unlike pretty boy Douglas Booth, whose utter lack of presence
as Shem guarantees a big future as a vacant teen heartthrob.
I hoped Noah would
be a provocative film, conceptually and philosophically. I didn’t expect it to
be a boring one. Unfortunately it just hangs there, its director hoping the
occasional extreme act or extreme acting will do the business. This isn’t, as
some have suggested a piece of work with the insight or thoughtfulness of Scorsese’s
The Last Temptation of Christ (surely
an influence on Aronofosky, since Noah’s reading of God’s will is interiorised;
but it just underlines that the “eye of the beholder” reading of faith has been
done to death at this point). There’s a kind of poverty to Noah’s ability to muster strength enough to hit only the most
obvious of targets, and the manner in which it looks like every fantasy movie that
surrounds it (only more austere, if that’s possible). Intermittently we are
offered glimpses of greatness, and those moments mean the film isn’t a total
bust, but coming from someone with such previous form as Aronofsky this is a
massive disappointment.
**1/2