The Fountain

If you are an Alterati.com regular, you’ve probably noticed by
now that we don’t select our reviews based on what just came out,
or what’s hot in the mainstream culture. We try and focus on the
work happening just off stage left, or the material that made it
into that limelight, but which was maligned or just plain misunderstood.

This is a case of the latter.

Darren Aronofsky first gained notoriety in the film world through his
movie Pi, a black and white excursion into the fine line between
genius and madness, riddled with fascinating but largely unexplored
Kabbalistic overtones. Later, his film Requiem For A Dream, though
masterfully shot and lushly scored, seemed to lead us into an even
deeper abyss, without even the scantest light at the end of the tunnel. I remember
feeling the desperate need to shower after watching the film, but was left with little more than the realization that it was an accurate portrayal of the shallow, beautiful horror that is the downward spiral of addiction.

His most recent
film, The Fountain,
which was in and out of production for several years and
almost never made it onto the screen at all, is in my opinion by
far his best to date. Partially as a result of these production
issues, it was also made into a graphic novel as well, based off
of the original script for the movie. The graphic novel, which I recently picked up at a comic convention, is a true work of art in its own right, with a sketchy and yet strangely painterly style that is uncommon and much called for in comics.

The Fountain deals with some of the most central issues we face as humans,
the big ones: life, death, what is lost, and what remains. He does
so in a visually stunning, deeply moving manner. Aronofsky’s background
in myth and metaphor is as clearly apparent as most people’s complete
lack of understanding in these areas. To begin with, from review to review,
and even in the wikipedia entry
(a source well known for its standard
of infallibility), there is talk of this story taking place in three
times, or of consisting of three plots: a Conquistador, set in
the time of Spain’s conquests and search for glory, a scientist,
dead-set upon saving his dying wife, and an astronaut or mystic,
exploring a nebula referenced in the other “time-lines” as relating
to the Mayan creation myth. These converging and diverging time-lines
seem to confuse people, as they try to track how they might relate
to one another, and try to wrap their heads around three different
stories.

There is only one story here, with three narratives filled with
symbolic devices, all of which exist primarily to enrich each other.
It is constantly baffling to me what a hard time most people have
with layered metaphors. At it’s most extreme, this literary problem
results in holy wars. In this case, it just results in
baffled critics.

The through-line of a plot is most clearly expressed in the narrative
of the scientist, as the other two, one above and one below, express
emotional and spiritual elements of his futile quest to save what
cannot be saved. For, as we learn through millenia of the worlds myths,
from various derivations of the pagan “green man” to the Egyptian Osiris
and even the more familiar Christian icons,
there cannot
be gain without loss, and it is not the flesh which remains. In many
of these myths it is in fact the flesh which must be ultimately sacrificed
to the spirit, which is to say to the rest of the universe so that more matter
can come into being, in new forms. This is not unlike the Kabbalistic idea
of permutation of symbol, energy, and form. (See: the Sefer Yetzirah.) All of these thoughts were
almost undoubtedly in Aronofsky’s mind, in one form or another, when he
gave birth to this story.

The
true fountain of immortality is a bittersweet potion, as flesh feeds
on flesh, life feeds on life. The pain and bliss of love are the same,
and some of the overwhelming potency of love comes from it’s immediacy, which is also
to say, its fragility and temporality. What remains is a seed, a kernel, which
floats willy-nilly from one place to the next. It is irrelevant
what time period these characters exist in, as ultimately they are
all merely devices for expressing and exploring those ideas which
otherwise cannot be explored, cannot be expressed. As with Requiem,
The Fountain is oftentimes a dark meditation,
but here at the end there is a form of redemption, and many insights into
what truly matters, as we all make this journey from one shore to the next.

As such, The Fountain takes its place as a work of stunning visual poetry,
and should be enjoyed as such. I’ve watched it twice so far in the past day, and was rewarded with fresh insights with each viewing. I’ll leave seeking out those delicious secrets to you. Happy hunting.

The Fountain Graphic Novel.

The Fountain (movie torrents).

Get
The Fountain (DVD) on Amazon.com.