I'll keep the review fairly short. But let me begin that I was expecting nothing great going to The Fountain. I wasn't even sure if I was going to see it in theaters or wait till DVD. But I had faith in Aronofsky, so I went to see it expecting a "good" movie.
How surprised I was. What happened to me for the past two hours makes all other films this year seem infinetely inferior in comparison: even The New World. I thought World would never budge from it's place as the best film of the year, but it has. The Fountain is one of the greatest films I've ever seen. This and Underground...not a bad weekend!
Watching the film, I felt the outermost layer of my body was a shell, inside of which were my lungs. While my body tried to collapse in on itself, my lungs expanded and sliced easily through my ribcage. And my soul poured along the theater floor like running water and up onto the screen, and it was a part of the movie. Aronofsky's visuals, a strange and perfect comination of DOP Matthew Libatique and compser Clint Mansell's heart-bleeding score, had a kind of reverse effect of that scene in The Purple Rose of Cairo where Jeff Daniels steps out of the movie and into the audience. In The Fountain the screen became a vaccum and the audience stepped into the movie.
I already miss it. I miss the theater, and I miss all the s hit there was on the floor, and I miss the s hitty sound quality that was briefly turned off during the trailer to Apocalypto (and what a good choice of a trailer to blank out the sound). I miss Aronofsky, Weisz, Jackman, and Burnstyn, and I plan to see them again in the near future.
No star rating sums up watching this.
1 comment:
You're 15 and you have a list like Pauline Kael's? I absolutely agree with you on The Fountain, I advocate my theory that only artists understand it.
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