Warning: A minor degree of spoilers is inevitable in this case
Usually, I have little trouble to entangle a movie adaptation from a superior 
more thoughtful source and take it for what it is. No such luck for me with 
Denis Villeneuve’s adaptation of Ted Chiang’s “Story of Your Life”. It’s too bad 
too, for I suspect if I could, I would find a little bit more to like about the 
film at hand.
Part of this difficulty certainly lies in the fact that the film’s first half 
or so is a more than decent movie version of the story, given a glossy Hollywood 
sheen through impressive camera work, special effects that recommend themselves 
by never pointing to themselves, and expectedly good acting by Amy Adams, Jeremy 
Renner and Forest Whitaker. Adams’s Louise’s first visit to the alien spaceship 
is a fantastic moment that demonstrates the wonder, the awe and the terror of an 
encounter with the utterly alien. Alas, the aliens become increasingly less 
alien the longer the film goes on and the further it moves away from Chiang’s 
novella. In the end, the film’s aliens are just another band of outer space big 
daddies who have come to wag their fingers at humanity and unify it by 
force instead of the much more ambiguous and truly alien aliens of the novella 
to whom we and our ways are as alien as they are to us.
Of course, if the film did otherwise, we couldn’t have a last half hour 
mostly consisting of lame, clichéd ticking clock scenarios and been there, done 
that plot events. Keeping with this dumbing down, Villeneuve (or Eric 
Heisserer’s script) also turns the story’s central philosophical conceit into a 
plot-practical way to see into the future that is infuriating in its 
simple-mindedness, falling into the usual trap of expecting a film to play well 
to the dumbest audience member a Hollywood filmmaker can imagine.
All this does add up to the perfectly respectable kind of science fiction 
film that can play well with the Academy Awards audience (see also the loathsome 
Gravity), the sort of film that pretends to be deep and emotional but 
mostly makes empty gestures to hide how cynically manipulative it is. Which is 
in general what the big mainstream film awards still prefer from their films, 
the last bunch of Academy Awards nominees and winners notwithstanding.
Now, I’m not at all against spectacle with a hint of heart as my love for the 
output of Marvel Studios should prove, but the way Arrival handles 
these things really sticks in my craw, the series of pretentious gestures that 
never become anything more than gestures that is the final act, hiding emptiness 
behind the still fantastic effects and production design and an increasingly 
schmaltzy score by Jóhann Jóhannsson (who could do so much better), adding up to 
very little but presented with the grandest gestures possible.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
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