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| Neo with hand out. Is he trying to tell us something? |
Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.
I had high hopes for Matrix Resurrections. It paired Lana Wachowski (and Aleksandr Hemon) with David Mitchell, the writer of Cloud Atlas. I saw the film adaptation of that in the theatre, and while it didn’t quite work for me (maybe I didn’t really get it), I was blown away by how wildly ambitious it was. The Wachowski’s take big chances, which I really admire.
Lana Wachowski also said she made the film as a way of processing grief over the death of her parents.
Whoa.
That sounds like one heck of a solid emotional core for a film.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t what I was hoping for (not that this is relevant, but hey… subjectivity).
Resurrections is two movies in one, giving you more bang for your cinematic buck: it’s a metatextual commentary on the film industry loosely tied into a continuation of the story concluded in Revolutions.
The metatextual commentary is fascinating (even as a primal scream of frustration) but the continuation of the story… not so much.
It begins with a redo of the first movie’s opening sequence: agents closing in on Trinity. This time, Agent Smith is a younger Morpheus (what?), and the entire sequence is being observed by an interloper named Bugs. She seems to be our new protagonist, and sports blue hair. She knows the whole story of the Matrix, so she’s perplexed seeing a rehash of earlier events.
Turns out, it’s a 'modal', a training subprogram that endlessly runs a single scenario. Kind of like how fictional characters in mass media are forever trapped in an endless sequel/reboot cycle.
Clever!
We go on to find Neo, now mere Thomas Anderson, at a software company (Deus Machina), where he’s the star programmer who created the revered Matrix video games. Agent Smith is his manager/partner.
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| The Matrix: the video game |
Clearly Anderson is an avatar for Lana Wachowski.
Several drones are introduced, including Jude (Judas?), a sycophantic, blinkered, obnoxious and base being who is… I forget. The Creative Director?
Neither Smith nor Anderson are aware of their previous life; it’s all just part of a video game now.
Smith informs Lana/Anderson that Warner Brothers isn’t interested in the new game (‘Binary’) that Anderson’s working on; instead, they want a sequel to The Matrix trilogy. And they’ll do it without them if they don’t go along. The seated Lana/Anderson is stressed and appalled and begins clawing at his/her knees.
This kicks off a series of scenes that dive down the rabbit hole of the film making sequel sausage machine, where marketers present research documents (the two key words audiences associate with The Matrix are original and fresh, so make an unnecessary sequel… original and fresh. What?), and the development team engages in ‘brainstorming’ sessions, in which people throwing around obnoxious statements without thought or consideration. It’s the corporate idea of creativity and it’s nausea inducing.
They’re the most powerful in the film because they’re actually saying something. I bet they’re Lana Wachowski’s opinion of real life meetings with Warner Brothers, and oh boy, she was NOT happy with Warner Brother’s threat to make sequels against her (and her sister’s) wishes.
Sure, Warner’s owns the property, and from a legal perspective I’m sure they’ve got plenty of lawyers to justify making a sequel (along with profit projections), but from a creative viewpoint I totally understand the Wachowski’s not being happy about it. As an audience member, I’m not happy about it either.
I’m also part of the problem, because I go and see sequels in the vain hope they’ll recapture the magic of the originals. The Same But Different! Rarely do you see a sequel switch into another genre (Alien to Aliens). The latest Star Wars sequels seemed to be generated by putting the first trilogy in a blender and hitting puree. They become meaningless recycled gibberish.
As an artistic statement, The Matrix films concluded with Revolutions. But the story cannot end because, thanks to people like me, studios can make money milking dead cows.
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| Walk (fly) away from explosions |
Matrix Resurrections isn’t the red pill, it isn’t the blue pill: it’s the poison pill.
It deliberately undermines itself and the originals, attacks the sequel machine, avaricious film corporations, obnoxious fans who completely misinterpret meaning, and obnoxiously inserts frames from the earlier trilogy as nostalgia pellets… akin to what a rabbit would drop.
It feels like the film is trolling the audience. It’s our fault movie characters are caught in these endless, torturous loops, each more awful than the last.
The Matrix was storyboarded up the wazoo. The new film? It was shot on the fly, and it shows. It looks like the high budget version of home video.
The epic aspects of the Matrix are pointedly deflated. Morpheus-Smith appears to Lana/Neo in a lavatory, lamely quoting his earlier self and desperately grasping for gravitas that isn't there. It's like Luke tossing away his lightsaber.
Is Wachowski annihilating aspects of the original she feels we incorrectly latched on to? The original series fetishized violence; is that why it’s deemphasized/poorly done here?
People excuse Keanu’s lackluster fight scenes by blaming his age, which is nonsensical, because he kicks ass in John Wick. Here, Neo just holds out his hands to stop bullets; it's his power move. Over and over and over and over again.
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| Neo does this. A LOT. |
The fight scenes in Cobra Kai are more compelling, at a tiny fraction of the cost.
The Resurrection characters make a point of saying they no longer need to escape through phone lines, but they don’t establish new rules. Which makes the chase scene at the end confusing: what are they trying to escape to.
The metatextual aspect of the film has much greater passion.
I’d rather see a documentary by Lana about the whole Matrix phenomenon and her journey through the film industry, than this.
The sequel… I get the desire to bring Neo and Trinity back. Hey, they become 'a binary' (wasn’t that Anderson’s new game?)! I enjoyed the idea of long lost love, of cosmic connection inevitably bringing two people together. But the rest of it doesn’t hold water, and devolves into a meaningless chase scene, where I don’t understand the stakes, where they’re going or why.
They don’t need a phone line… so where are they going again?
Is the 'swarm' idea a commentary on social media mobbing? Herd mindedness? Zombie movies?
I don't know and don't really care.
The Analyst was a step down from The Architect. I detected real anger coming through his character, contempt for both his POV and the target of his frustrations (us). Nasty as he is (and he turns conspicuously misogynist in the last scene), he’s not wrong about people believing our emotions validate our actions, and us being immune to facts when feelings run hot.
I am as guilty of this as the next person.
It’s difficult to escape subjectivity (and hey, that’s what this review is).
I cannot recommend seeing Resurrections in a theatre. On the other hand, I would be very interested in watching it again on TV, with a director’s commentary track.
(As I walked to my favourite café to write this review, a black cat crossed my path. I’ve walked this path for 10 years, and that’s never happened before. It made me laugh. A glitch in... you know.)
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| The leap of faith I couldn't make |
