Talking to fans of Jeff VanderMeer’s
Annihilation, if you venture to see Alex Garland’s cinematic
adaptation, steel yourself, they are very different animals. Both maintain the
general sci-fi Heart of Darkness-style journey, and there are
a few plot points intact—like the lighthouse and Area X. But aside from that,
they go in two different directions.
I’ll try to keep the book talk to a minimum and look at the film
on its own merits, but I want to touch on a few bits right off the bat.
Garland, who both adapts the screenplay and directs, takes the heady, esoteric
sci-fi concepts and turns them into a thriller. He takes dreamy, ethereal
concepts from the page and doesn’t necessarily dumb them down as mush as he
files down the edges. This includes things like adding am extra character to
the original quartet, explicitly stating the protagonist’s motivations for this
journey up front instead of letting them remain shadowy and oblique, and even
simply giving the characters names when it’s not necessary—in the book each
goes by her job title.
I don’t necessarily intend any of this as a knock on the
film. On its own, as its own blend of genres, there’s much to admire. But
sitting in the theater, I found myself wishing I hadn’t read the novel first. I’m
usually good at keeping the two separate, but in this case, things stuck and
pulled at me like sticker bushes on a sweater.
Lena (Natalie Portman) is a military-vet-turned Johns
Hopkins biologist. When her still-military husband, Kane (Oscar Isaac), returns
from a mysterious mission after a year-long absence where she presumed him
dead, it leads her to joins an excursion into Area X. A region engulfed in the “Shimmer,”
none of the teams who venture in have ever returned. The rest of the expedition
includes the psychologist, Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh); the physicist,
Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson); Anya Thorenson (Gina Rodriguez); and Cass
Sheppard (Tuva Novotny).
Once inside, the team encounters a world where normal
biological rules no longer apply. The Shimmer twists and warps the limits of
reality. They attempt to track the origins of the phenomenon, uncover evidence
of previous expeditions, and begin to unravel both mentally and physically.
A slow-burn, meticulous voyage toward an unclear end,
Annihilation mixes science fiction elements with
psychological and body horror that edges up to Lovecraft territory. Garland
presents heady themes and concepts, with the deliberate pace, and the finished
product resembles a light thriller version of Apocalypse Now
and 2001.
Some viewers will find a great deal to sink their claws into
with Annihilation, and repeat viewings are sure to offer
additional rewards. That said, there’s going to be a stark divide between those
who love this film and those whom it never truly hooks. I find myself
straddling that line. At once, I want to give the film another spin with an eye
on certain aspects, but there are also times when my attention wandered and I
wasn’t fully engaged. It never quite pushes as far into the depths as it needs
to.
Part of the problem is a god-awful frame story that not not
only derails any narrative momentum, but only exists to hammer home points home
with a distressing lack of subtlety. Awkward, repetitive scenes pull the viewer
out of the story and hit them over the head. The conflict between Garland and the
studio has been well-documented—one exec was quoted as saying he didn’t think
audiences would understand Annihilation. And these clunky detours
feel like a concession from the filmmaker to the studio. Intrusive and
unnecessary, they’re condescending and destroy much of the tension the film
builds because they reveal who makes it out alive.
Natalie Portman stands out as the lead. She’s the Willard of
the team, and we spend the bulk of the time close to her, watching her crumble
and push forward. Much of her motivation and drive remains similar to what’s on
the page, but VanderMeer parses it out gradually over the course of the novel,
while Garland drops it in our laps at the outset. It ruins the mystery of why
Lena goes on this journey, of what propels her—again, this feels like a
concession to a fearful studio.
The rest of the cast is strong—on paper, it’s bonkers good—and
it’s refreshing to see a studio film fronted by women and women of color. But they
don’t always have much to work with. Jennifer Jason Leigh’s psychologist is the
most interesting initially. Having watched team after team enter the Shimmer
never to return, she has a unique vantage point, but disappears from the forefront.
In the end, her motives get one throwaway line and little more. Tessa Thompson’s
physicist is quiet and mousy, nursing her own wounds. That’s the character, but
as a result, too often with her limited lines, she blends into the background.
Just when she’s the most interesting, she, too, dissipates. More than anyone
else, I wanted additional time with her.
Gina Rodriguez’ lesbian paramedic Anya is easily the best of
the supporting players. She’s great on Jane the Virgin and
takes over the screen every chance she gets here. Boisterous and all out of
fucks to give, while the others approach Area X with professional interest and
remove, the non-scientist of the bunch is not having any of this crazy
nonsense.
Adding a fifth member to the team is the most curious choice
of all. Tuna Novotny is fine. But Cass doesn’t add anything. In fact, an
additional person dilutes the pool. Lena, Anya, Josie, and Dr. Ventress have
much more personality. I wanted to spend more time with them, watching them
interact under pressure and stress. With one too many characters, the
importance and impact of the others lessens a few degrees, to the film’s
detriment.
In the hands of cinematographer Rob Hardy, who lensed
Garland’s directorial debut, Ex-Machina, Annihilation
is a gorgeous film to behold. With this heightened nature reclaiming the landscape,
there’s a twisted post-apocalyptic vibe. It’s damn near always sunrise or
sunset, and they paint each frame with a stunning array of hues, if a few too
many lens flares. Newly evolved organisms—fungi and moss and flora—climb decrepit
buildings and trees in startling washes of color.
Striking imagery and creature design abound. There are times
where the sets, locations, and monsters call to mind the likes of
Alien and The Thing. Dissonant
soundscapes ratchet up the tension and pressure. A minimalist score often
comprised of a solitary, echoing guitar veers towards full-on western
territory.
Annihilation is most interesting when it
luxuriates in the abstract and strange. That is to say, when the team actually
ventures into Area X. It’s trippy and weird, philosophical and intriguing, and
where the film finds itself. Everything outside of the Shimmer is just noise, a
distraction full of heavy-handed explanation. Lena had an affair, and while it
speaks to her state of mind, it’s inconsequential in a larger sense. There’s
plenty more they could have done to hook the audience. The world inside Area X
is simply so much more interesting than anything outside the expanding borders.
It may sound like I don’t like Annihilation,
but that’s certainly not the case. Garland’s film offers much to chew on, and
as stated earlier, it’s one where I believe on repeat viewings the positives
will stand out while the issues will fade. But after one watch, the flaws loom
large. That said, I love that this movie exists. More strange, cryptic,
cerebral science fiction that takes multiple encounters to fully unwrap,
please. [Grade: B]
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