Hey folks, Harry here with a pair of insights into THE MACHINIST, the latest from Brad Anderson, a pretty promising filmmaker. The film has been getting pretty good buzz, so this is just to affirm that. Beware of spoilers...
For lack of a better introduction, I went to an advance screening of Brad Anderson (Session 9, Next Stop Wonderland)'s new movie starring Christian Bale called The Machinist, held at the Fenway theater in Boston, right down the street from the heart of Boston University. The director appeared afterwards and conduced a fairly insightful Q&A session, which I will get to, appropriately, after the bulk of the movie review.
Bale is Trevor Reznik, an insomniac who works with machines in his crummy factory job, and acts like an automaton in his daily life, as well. The lack of sleep, which supposedly began a year ago for him and whose cause is not revealed to the audience, is beginning to take a drastic toll. He begins to hallucinate and he is so gaunt that, as his girlfriend tells him, "If you were any thinner, you wouldn't exist." (Bale lost 60 pounds for the role and, we were told, gained it back in six weeks, just in time for the new Batman.) On top of this, he begins to suspect that he is the victim of a conspiracy within his workplace after an accident hurts one of his coworkers and he is blamed for it.
This is not a complicated premise. But with the right ingredients, fantastic stories can be made. Such is the case here. The combination of Trevor's insomnia, his possible hallucinations, his numerous paranoia’s, and the strange notes he finds posted around his apartment all serve to establish a sense of uncertainty that is consistently maintained throughout the narrative. Since the story is told primarily through Trevor's perspective, this subjectivity allows director Anderson to comment upon the fact that we, as an audience, take for granted that the action we see at any given moment during a film is "real" and actually happening (in the world of the story), when we may actually be as deceived by them as Trevor is by his own illusions. This recalls similar philosophical ramifications brought up by other films such as Kurosawa's Rashomon and Singer's The Usual Suspects.
To add to the film's surreal and otherworldly quality, the director desaturates the colors and tints everything a dull, metallic blue. As explained by Anderson himself in the Q&A afterwards, it's as if the entire world, as seen through Trevor's eyes, resembles the dull hue of the machines he operates every day. The washing-out of the colors is not only gorgeous in its bleakness, but also tastefully reflects Trevor's emaciated physical/psychological state.
Although it is implied that the story is set somewhere in America, Anderson revealed to the audience that they actually shot the movie in Barcelona, Spain. This only enhances one's appreciation of the film's production design, for similar to the nameless city in David Fincher's Seven, there manage to be no distinguishing landmarks or visual cues that would tip the viewer off as to where this was shot. Subsequently, the environment in which the action unfolds remains a total mystery. It could be anywhere. We are thus put into the same state of confusion that our protagonist is in.
Towards the end, the structure of the film starts to become obvious at points, and with it, portions of the final "twist" begin to unintentionally reveal themselves. Let it be said, though - without spoiling anything - that we are led to expect a "grand" revelation by the end of the movie, when the explanation the film provides is at once far more mundane and poignant than any Shyamalanesque epic shocker.
The Machinist is quite an impressive film to behold, simply for how cleverly and discreetly it externalizes the protagonist's fragile mental state. As such, it should be required viewing for anyone interested in subtle, well done psychological tales. It's no coincidence that "The Idiot," Dostoyevsky's classic novel about the good-natured yet foolish Prince Myshkin, appears in a couple of scenes; if the author were alive today, this is surely the type of character-driven film he would like to make.
Bidding you good day and reminding you that there is no “off” position on the genius switch, I am, respectfully yours,
Zombie Jesus
And here's what the Cleric had to say...
Greetings.
I just got back from a screening of The Machinist here in Boston (with director Brad Anderson coming by afterwards to answer questions). I’m pleased to report that Bale didn’t lose all that weight for nothing as the movie— with one major problem—is pretty damn good. I present a brief review:
Something of a plot description for the uninitiated: Bale plays a machinist (egad-- we have a title) who hasn’t slept “in over a year.” He’s completely emaciated and keeps a tally of post-it notes above his scale to document his weight. He begins to suspect that pretty much everyone he knows is in on a conspiracy to ruin his life. Hallucinations (or are they?) and so on. Michael Ironside’s voice and Jennifer Jason Lee are prominently featured. If you want more detail, hit the IMDB.
Onto more interesting things. The movie manages to keep up the tension for the most part while usually not feeling too gimmicky (except when it does, but more on that shortly). I’m probably going to give more of the movie away here, but its strength comes from its consistent ability to convince us there’s something beyond the genre-based exterior. The ending (which I won’t reveal) follows from what’s come before and isn’t a cheat (I’m talking to you, Shyamalan), but you probably won’t guess the specifics of it ahead of time. The movie also doesn’t rely on its ending to justify your having sat through the rest of it (again, Shyamlan). A good explanation for Bale’s condition— it’s very satisfying.
The film’s look works well. Most of the sets are fairly sparse and sterile looking, and the whole thing is washed out in a metallic grey/ steely blue color intended to—as Anderson confirmed—give the proceedings the bland, wishy-washy point of view that Bale’s character experiences the world. Good stuff.
So what about the movie feeling too gimmicky at points? Any “psychological thriller” relies a great deal on plot contrivances, but the good ones are entertaining and intricate enough so that we’re too involved to care much about being manipulated. To be sure—The Machinist has much more too it than the average Angelina Jolie-tracking-down-a-serial-killer movie, but it dips into mediocrity when we encounter the more overarching plot gimmicks. One character is particularly weak in this regard, as we’re almost immediately aware of the fact that he’s not what he seems to be and is overtly there to confuse us.
As Anderson was finishing up the last of his questions, we heard a loud engine noise coming from outside. Then the Batmobile crashed through the wall, and two guys in Robin costumes came back-flipping down the stadium seating stairs yelling: “JOCKS RULE!” I had mixed feelings about this.
There you go—a movie based in a genre that’s usually able to transcend it both A) technically and B) having-a-point wise.
Call me Cleric.
