A testament to the power of hollow aestheticism, Darren Aronofsky’s The Fountain is either profoundly brilliant or arrogantly complex, depending on how you view the director’s inexorable mingling of art and multiple story. Themes of love and death provide the backdrop to three separate yet somewhat interconnected tales of one man’s desperate search for longevity, all for the misguided sake of protecting the object of his affection; accompanied by irritatingly recuring motifs, the stories have an obvious purpose. What that purpose is, and why they’re arranged as such, is the larger focus.
In terms of acting, the performances are disappointingly varied. Hugh Jackman alternates between fortified reservation, anger, and weeping sadness, all of which become tiresome. Rachel Weisz is the soothing presence, a confident yet doomed Queen Isabel and consoling Izzi, and suffers through yet another obligatory bathtub scene. Ellen Burstyn’s Lillian is so underdeveloped the actress is forced into channeling Sara Goldfarb. Acting veteran Stephen McHattie provides the only redeeming moment as a self-flagellating grand inquisitor, and his scenes are infused with such a perverse beauty I felt robbed once they ended.
For those looking for some consolation, some reassurance that Aronofsky hasn’t wholly abandoned the style made famous by Pi and Requiem for a Dream, you need look no further than the soundtrack. The Kronos Quartet returns with their astounding strings, marking one of the few instances where original music outdoes the film; until The Fountain’s last half hour, I was viewing the film as a series of interrelated music videos rather than genuine cinema.
by Adam Balz | Source: Warner Brothers 35MM Theatrical Print
23 Nov 2006 2:10 AM | Submit Comment
