Starring: Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie, Diego Calva, Jean Smart, Jovan Adepo, Li Jun Li, P.J. Byrne, Lukas Haas, Olivia Hamilton, Max Minghella, Rory Scovel, Katherine Waterston, Tobey Maguire, Flea, Jeff Garlin, Eric Roberts
Running Time: 189 min.
Rating: R
**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For 'Babylon'**
★★★★ (out of ★★★★)
Say what you will about Damien Chazelle's hyper ambitious Hollywood epic Babylon, but it'll be remembered. A sprawling spectacle that takes huge, ambitious swings, it's the very definition of an experience, even if its mileage will vary for some. Speculation as to why a film from an Oscar-winning director about cinema's golden age didn't wrack up truckloads of awards and critical praise is immediately put to rest in the opening section. Amidst the debauchery, Chazelle makes it clear right away he's more interested in telling a darkly humorous, ironically tragic tale of excess and failure that's more The Day of The Locust than La La Land. And you just can't take your eyes off it, as its filled to the brim with uproarious scenes and characters. Sorting out how much of this is entirely fabricated, loosely based on real anecdotes or actual people probably requires a separate documentary. But that would spoil the fun of not knowing.
Watching, it's easy to envision Paramount assuming Margot Robbie was their slam dunk for Best Actress, nailing a role that seemingly falls right into the Academy's wheelhouse. And even taking into account its disappointing box office, you can still see why they'd think that, and be shocked at the lack of a nomination. It's an exhilarating, tour de force performance that constantly hovers between disturbing victimization, brilliant physical comedy and insecure exhibitionism. It's no wonder everyone hates it, especially older viewers understandably intrigued at the prospect of Robbie playing a silent film star, though underestimating her willingness to go to ugly, uncomfortable places with the character few other actresses would willingly sign up for.
This also contains one of the more intriguing Brad Pitt turns, likely to draw comparisons to his aging stuntman Cliff Booth in Tarantino's Once Upon A Time in Hollywood. But while both were once famously successful performers now struggling to stay relevant in an industry done with them, the same could apply to everyone in this film, some more tragically than others. The story zigs and zags, tracking different characters and situations as it approaches the polarizing finale. Many have jumped to declare it "messy," but there's a through line that cleverly intersects, with Chazelle rarely losing sight of the destination. He knows what he's doing, with the three hours moving at a breakneck pace, with even its harshest critics forced to admit it's never dry or dull. Ripe for a major reassessment down the line, it'll be fun seeing how this ages while continuing to peel back its many layers.
It's 1926 Los Angeles when Manuel "Manny" Torres (Diego Calva) transports an elephant to a wild, drug and alcohol fueled party at the Kinoscope Studios mansion. While there, he meets brash and outgoing New Jersey native Nellie LaRoy (Robbie), who not only hopes to be discovered, but already considers herself a movie star in waiting. Joined at the party by the likes of matinee idol Jack Conrad (Pitt), lesbian cabaret singer Lady Fay Zhu (Li Jun Li) and African American jazz trumpeter Sidney Palmer (Jovan Adepo), Manny and Nellie bond over their shared desire to do "something bigger."
Manny and Nellie's big breaks come when Jack secures him work with Kinoscope while she lands a studio picture role, upstaging its aggravated lead. With Manny ascending the studio ladder and Nellie emerging as a world famous screen star, Hollywood undergoes a massive change when films transition from silent to talkies in the late '20's. And with it comes a seismic industry shift that ensures nothing in their lives will ever be the same again.
After a disgustingly hilarious start that previews of the insanity to come, we're introduced to three major characters a this party who are tracked for nearly the film's entire running length. The introductory sequence is a full-on feast for the senses, beautifully shot by cinematographer Linus Sandgren with a propulsive, catchy score from Justin Hurwitz that enhances the whole energy and vibe of the proceedings. As the camera sweeps through the mansion and following this explicit mayhem, the stage is set for all the insanity that follows.
Structurally, the film could almost be viewed as a series of interconnected vignettes focusing on these events effecting various players. Among them are a dangerously chaotic Jack Conrad movie shoot that Manny saves and a delirious montage of Nellie's big screen debut for director Ruth Adler (Olivia Hamilton), who's shocked by the ingenue's seemingly effortless ability to cry on demand. Throughout, Nellie's established as suffering from an imposter syndrome, exacerbated by a traumatic family life defined by her mentally ill mother and sleazy, dim-witted business manager father played by Eric Roberts. Her attempted revenge on him results in one of the film's craziest scenes involving a snake challenge that goes spectacularly wrong.
Some handle the arrival of sound in motion pictures better than others, but that it's basically a death knell for them all speaks to humans' inability to change or evolve. Manny fares the best, but it comes at a steep price, by the end no longer resembling the wide-eyed errand boy who dreamed of making it big. What does set him apart is his willingness and skill to work within the boundaries of a new system that's already putting stars like Nellie and Jack out to pasture.
As Manny, Diego Calva gives one of the best recent lead performances from an unknown on a project of this size and scope. Resembling a younger Javier Bardem, he conveys this nervous desperation and eagerness, and whether Manny's trying to work his way onto a movie set or pining after Nellie, Calva retains a certain likability as the character's Tinseltown career takes off. And yet his fall is the most precipitous, having essentially erased his entire identity to ingratiate himself into this capitalistic Hollywood system.
By the time Manny urges African American trumpeter Sidney to don blackface for lighting purposes, even he can't believe what he's asking. Adepo's performance as Sidney meets the moment, steeped in humiliating contemplation that lasts what feels like an eternity before he acquiesces. After that, he's had enough. But so has Manny, even if he doesn't know it yet. Ironically, it's Nellie's recklessness that causes his undoing, exposing him to the seediest, most dangerous element of Hollywood's underbelly in gangster James McKay, creepily by played by Tobey Maguire in a brief, effective excursion into Lynchian territory.
Spiraling deep into drugs and gambling, Nellie's career flatlines as quickly as the silent pictures in which she starred, her voice likened to the squealing of a dying animal by studio executives. While real life parallels can be drawn from most of these fictional characters, her upbringing and reputation is an obvious nod to silent screen legend and anointed "It Girl," Clara Bow, but with Robbie fleshing her out as far more than just an homage.
We see how much of a struggle it is for Nellie to adapt in two of the film's funniest scenes, the first showcasing the difficulty of filming with sound, and another when she attends a high society party with Manny that ends in disaster for William Randolph Hearst (Pat Kipper) and Marion Davies (Chloe Fineman). Recalling the best moments and scenes, it's hardly a coincidence Robbie's at the center of all of them, her comic timing consistently wringing laughs from the most outrageous and tragic situations.
In a film filled with characters denying their own mortality, Pitt's Jack best reflects the fickle nature of fame and success. Gossip columnist Elinor St. John (Jean Smart) gets that, holding court to deliver a brilliantly conceived speech about how everyone's irrelevance within this twisted ecosystem serves a higher purpose than themselves. It's sad but weirdly reassuring, the power of her painfully honest assessment resonating throughout the film's final minutes when we realize just how right she was. In light of his many divorces and hard drinking, Jack's a vain, but decent guy who's also unfailingly loyal. We see it with Manny, his troubled longtime manager George (Lukas Haas) and just about anyone else he comes into contact with. But he's also the biggest silent film star of this period, making him the one with the most to lose.
Jack doesn't poorly adjust so much as the change pushes up his expiration date, expediting an inevitable decline. And for someone who's having the time of his life, anonymity and failure are too much to bare. While it's odd to say any Pitt performance would go overlooked, this has, which may have to do with the usual eye-rolling that accompanies movie stars playing movie stars. Pitt's portrayal differs by how unflattering it is, with all his character's insecurities laid bare. In both epitomizing and sending up the public's perception of Pitt as an actor, it feels like a defining role, substantially deeper and more challenging than expected.
By incorporating some of the experiences of icons like Louis Armstrong and Anna May Wong to create Sidney and Fay, Chazelle expertly crafts a fictional story that's history adjacent. The actors take care of the rest, their characters initially hovering on the periphery before breaking through. Jovan Adepo and a seductively scene stealing Li Jun Li are consistently compelling, playing performers who know the necessity of striking while the iron's hot, despite never really getting proper respect due to their minority status. An eclectic parade of names including Olivia Wilde, Jeff Garlin, Flea, Max Minghella (as legendary producer Irving Thalberg), Samara Weaving, Spike Jonze, Patrick Fugit and Albert Hammond Jr. show up in smaller roles. Some play real figures, but all are seamlessly incorporated, disappearing behind Mary Zophres' unforgettable period costuming
Chazelle's film commences with a euphoric, bittersweet payoff worthy of all that's preceded it. Returning years later to the town that crushed him, Manny's
hopelessness is palpable as he sits in the cinema watching Singin' in
the Rain, before things take a sudden turn. In a trippy, euphoric, montage through film history that visually invokes 2001: A Space Odyssey's closing stargate sequence, he's overwhelmed with emotion. Now grasping what Elinor St. John talked about and Jack and Nellie couldn't comprehend, he fully recognizes his role in helping to shape something far bigger than himself, or any of us.
Much like all of it, the wild finale needs time and distance to process, as it leaps forward while triggering a strange nostalgia for people and events we saw only two hours earlier. Either way, it isn't hard to notice the irony of this film being chewed up and spit out in much the same way its characters are, seeking adoration from an industry always moving on, looking for the next big thing. For all the talk about Hollywood loving movies about itself, Babylon could be the rare exception, cutting too close to the bone, even for them.
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