"What do you know of cruelty?"
Parenthood is a miracle unto itself. Managing to somehow
raise another human being while hoping to avoid the pitfalls that your own
parents made is not only a Herculean challenge, it is a rarity. The concept of
instilling a sense of morality in a child among a world gone awry has been
explored across artistic tableaus for centuries. Claire Denis' latest
opus, High Life, distills this theme through a terrifying filter of base
human instincts and existential dread which ultimately crystallizes into a
profound reflection on the mysteries of life.
Monte is a convicted felon serving a life in prison in a
dystopian future whose sentence is commuted in exchange for him (and a group of
other prisoners) agreeing to participate in a high-risk space mission to harvest
energy. In the cold blackness of space, the crew members are subjected to
sexual experimentation and other horrors as their vessel drifts closer to
oblivion. One of the most resonant aspects of this film is how Denis
controls tone. From the first few frames its evident that this is going
to be a feel bad affair, and yet, despite the dreary ambiance, there are
moments of genuine kindness, courage, and love dappled throughout. The
manner in which these moments are interwoven through a non-linear presentation
allows them to wash over the viewer without pulling them away from the darkness
inherent to the story. These are flawed, dangerous people stripped down
to their souls and the revelations are, for the most repulsive and
heartbreaking.
Despite this narrative truth, Robert Pattinson's bravura
performance as Monte effortlessly manages to endear his plight. The core
of the story focuses on his relationship with a child on the ship. His
dedication, his triumphs and failures as a father are both natural and awe
inducing. Pattinson's object rage in one scene of weakness is sublime
perfection, perfectly emulating any parent at their wit's end. These
scenes are spliced in between the story of the ill-fated crew. At first
the jumping from one timeline to the next may seem jarring, however as the film
enters its final act, the import of this decision becomes clear. The
interactions between the prisoners and their devious controller Dibs (Juliette
Binoche, in absolutely disturbing turn) build a moral fiber that threads
everything together. The interesting juxtaposition is in how this
is transcribed. In apocalyptic settings, such as the The Road (or
even Logan), the parent child relationship is built upon the concept of
what was. There is a fundamental understanding that the parent is passing
the torch, hoping that the next generation will continue to carry the
fire. In Denis' carnal madhouse, there is no escape, no future, and
thus the relationship is defined not on the passing of knowledge and tradition,
but in a mutual sense of unspoken despair. How does a parent prepare a
child with no knowledge of life (in virtually any form) for death?
Denis has no interest in answering this question for the viewer and High
Life is all the better for it.
Great science fiction asks difficult questions that ultimately
reflect on the nature of humanity. Beyond this, there are a handful of
films in the genre that eschew convention by using fantastical ideas and
technology to question the limits of reality. 2001:A Space Odyssey
not only redefined the possibilities of the medium, it asked audiences to
expect more from entertainment and to embrace challenging art as a means of self-exploration.
Tarkovsky's Solaris obliterated genre conventions by housing one of the
greatest love stories ever told inside a science fiction carapace, using the
concept of a haunted space station as a means to symbolize loss and grief. High
Life joins this august group of films by using the extremities of the human
condition as a crucible on which the other side of lies the most important part
of the human experience: hope. There are scenes of sexual violence and
death throughout and these horrific events are the demons that haunt the lonely
corridors of the ship, uncomfortable provocations given form through Yorick Le
Saux's ethereal cinematography. One of the most memorable scenes involves
bodies in space, and the manner in which Le Saux captures them achieves a sense
of poetic symmetry that is perfectly at home within Denis' flawless creation.
Available now for digital streaming, High Life is one of
the most important science fiction films of the century and an absolute must
for fans of art house cinema. This is a difficult film both in content
and in its ramifications. The durance of existence is an oppressive,
inescapable leviathan that hides within each of us. It is films such as
this that are potent reminders that it is ultimately more about how we choose
to face the darkness than whether or not we triumph.
--Kyle Jonathan