Collapsible Criticism in 2003

Rating: Null/10 (6 February 2004)

For all it endeavors to achieve in breaking with conventional filmmaking techniques of character exposition, narrative timing and storytelling, "Lost" left me completely cold. The film has gotten a lot of press and praise and caused a lot of debate. Most people have either absolutely adored or abhorred it. I don't hate this film, but I think I understand where it fails. Traditional storytelling devices are for the most part gone, but they have not been replaced by anything new--and this absence is not compelling. This could account for "Lost"'s bi-polar reception: if you bring your own understanding and meaning to the film's "empty spaces," you will certainly find something to enjoy. Most people have grown accustomed to the active guidace of traditional film narrative which is designed around total understanding and comprehensibility for a mass audience with variable attention and patience. So if you watch "Lost" expecting to be guided and explained to, you will probably get annoyed.
But that's not news. What is more interesting is the trend this kind of thinking indicates. More and more of films, writing and general wit tends toward an ideology of thwarting convention to thwart convention. Try an exercise: find a friend who is absolutely in love with "Lost" and begin criticizing it. You might take a line like this: "Nothing happens." The defense will evaluate to something like, "That's the point" or "Why DOES something have to happen?" If this friend really likes "Lost" then probably he or she was truly moved by the film, really enjoyed it and simply doesn't know how to explain this. That's perfectly valid. What is interesting to me is that the only accounts available for an increasing body of popular work fall back on very cosmetic inversions of convention.

Another polarizing film to appear last year is Tarantino's "Kill Bill." This film also left me cold, while at the same time I think I understood what it was doing. If you've seen the films of Sonny Chiba, Seijun Suzuki or the Shaw Brothers, then you'll "get it." If you have a rudimentary acquiantance with anime and a taste for the cult classics of low-fi action, then feel free to rollik in reference and hommage. Similar to "Lost in Translation," if you're not in, you don't get it. And even if you do understand what is being attempted in either film, this understanding is very cold. "Kill Bill" struck me as a super-stylish nothing which ignored Tarantino's natural talents for dialogue and character. Again, put someone on the defensive with this film, and you will probably hear a predictable argument: "Well, isn't that the point?" or "It's SUPPOSED to be flat and superficial!"
In theory there is nothing wrong with this. Most people would agree that films ought to ask audiences for more contemplation and attention. However, if this is going to actually happen in mainstream filmmaking, filmmakers must avail foundations for creative change more compelling than "get it?" or "isn't that the point?" These very binary togglings with convention are, well...empty.
While I can't call it a mistake to enjoy something because it breaks convention, I can call it very limited to believe that this is the best a film can do. On these grounds I resent the attention lavished on "Lost." But that's my problem.
"Lost" has several flaws which account for the film's strange impression. If Charlotte is so intelligent and so sensative, why is she so helpless in one of the most fascinating places in the world? How can the characters be so estranged en medias res? Both Charlotte and Bob already have relationships with people whom, presumably, they had some basis for intimacy and happiness. What are the grounds for their moodiness now? This is central to the sum effect of the film because, unless you go into the theatre with a similar disposition, no other disposition is engaged. The characters are essentially annoyed with the trappings of their own luxury, and the film at times feels like the fantasy vacation of a sullen brat. Again, it is the easiest thing in the world to ask whether or not that is the point; whether we are asked to consider priviledged ennui. But here is the same problem. In fact you can come up with any number of questions of what may be considered because the film doesn't incline us to any one in specific. This passiveness will either engage or alienate you. I wonder when evading criticism and specificity became more worthwhile than active debate.