Annihilation (Alex Garland, 2018)

Three years ago, a meteor landed on a coastline in the United States. Ever since that day, a strange disturbance known as the Shimmer appeared. In response, many expeditions have been carried out by the army, though only one person has ever returned from them: a man named Kane. Upon returning, he reunites with his wife, Lena, but is unusually evasive when asked what happened during his expedition. Shortly thereafter, his health begins to deteriorate and is quickly hospitalized. With Kane in intensive care, Lena is approached by Dr. Ventress. She is prepared to go on a new expedition into the Shimmer. Determined to learn what happened to Kane, Lena volunteers to join her.


From the outset, Annihilation represents a significant step up from Alex Garland’s debut film, Ex Machina, in terms of scale. The mid-2010s was a time in which AAA blockbusters dominated the scene, so for a low-budget production with a minimalist cast such as Ex Machina to be a commercial and critical success left many Hollywood journalists stunned. Considering that many fans considered Ex Machina a triumph in minimalism, making an adventure film laden with science-fiction elements as an immediate follow-up was quite the daring undertaking.

The entire plot naturally revolves around the Shimmer. The film is initially vague as to what the Shimmer actually is. We know that it has caused a serious disturbance, but its exact nature is unclear. Of the many people to have entered the Shimmer, only Kane emerged alive – and he is currently incapacitated. At the same time, while the Shimmer’s expansion is a cause for worry, it isn’t as though it disintegrates everything it touches. The government must find some way to remove this disturbance, yet they clearly have no idea how to proceed.

This is perhaps the greatest strength of the film; it gradually eases its viewers into the mystery. When the group, consisting of Dr. Ventress, Lena, and three other women – Josie Radek, Cassie “Cass” Sheppard, and Anya Thorensen – enter the Shimmer, things begin to go awry, albeit slowly. Upon doing so, they almost immediately black out. When they awake, they find themselves unable to communicate with the outside world. They don’t have any memories of what happened upon entering the Shimmer, but they conclude that they were unconscious for three or four days.

Although it wasn’t exceptionally violent, Ex Machina possessed a highly visceral component to its storytelling that became apparent in the final act. This aspect takes far less time to manifest in Annihilation. During their expedition, the team is accosted by an albino alligator. Upon vanquishing it, the group observes something strange about the creature. They open its mouth only to discover it possesses many rows of shark-like teeth. Things get even more bizarre when they happen upon an abandoned military base containing a video message from Kane’s expedition. In the video, he slices open the abdomen of another solder only to reveal that the latter’s intestines are slithering like eels. When Lena and her group find the corpse, it has turned into a lichen colony.

It is after discovering an abandoned village that the nature of the Shimmer is revealed. Studying the humanlike plants nearby, Josie concludes the Shimmer acts as a prism for DNA, which in turn, mutates anything that wanders into its boundaries. This is proven after the group had been previously attacked by a mutated bear. They were unable to prevent it from dragging Cass away, and when it reappears, it cries out in her voice. It quickly kills Anya before Josie frees herself and fatally shoots the creature.

I do find myself giving Mr. Garland credit for being ambitious. Although Annihilation is based off the first novel in Jeff VanderMeer’s Southern Reach Trilogy, it takes several deviations from the source material. The final product was, to Mr. Garland’s own admission, based off his loose memory of the novel. What is perhaps the most notable deviation is that this film doesn’t have an antagonist to speak of. The Shimmer is responsible for spawning the various threats the group must face on their way to the lighthouse situated near the meteor’s impact crater, but it isn’t a sentient being acting out of malice as much as it is a force of nature.

It ultimately turns out to be a metaphor for humankind’s destructive nature. The various monstrosities that run around the Shimmer are meant to symbolize the environmental damage caused by humankind’s scientific endeavors. While this is certainly a creative development, I have to comment that it also cements Annihilation as a product of its time in the bad sense of the term. Mr. Garland’s previous film, Ex Machina, touted itself as the thinking person’s science-fiction piece when, in practice, it was deeply anti-intellectual. Annihilation doesn’t quite make the same mistake with the concept of science being shown in a more positive light. However, the idea of making the Shimmer into this kind of metaphor demonstrates a marked lack of imagination spawned from a want to follow trends rather than to break the mold.

I also find myself actively disliking the framing device. Most of this film takes place after Lena has already left the Shimmer. While under quarantine, she then relays the events of the film to an official. There are two significant problems with this setup. First of all, you now know that as bad as things get, Lena will find some way to survive whatever the Shimmer has to throw at her. Granted, it is kind of a given that, unless the director takes the audience calling their bluff as a challenge, the protagonist will survive long enough for the story to completely unfold. Regardless, knowing that she will emerge alive ruins any kind of suspense the film may have had. Moreover, that only Lena is being questioned may hint to savvy viewers none of her comrades survive. While the exact manner in which they meet their end is shocking, the outcome itself isn’t.

The other significant problem with the framing device is that it feels tacked on. It reads as the kind of development the studio executives would impose upon a project after initial test screenings resulted in negative feedback. Interestingly, the test screenings for Annihilation were indeed negative, and in response, executive producer David Ellison demanded several changes be made in order to have the film appeal to a larger audience, deeming it “too intellectual” and “too complicated”. However, producer Scott Rudin, who had the final say, sided with the Mr. Garland, releasing the film in an unaltered state. Although it could be seen as a triumph for the auteur theory, how the chain of events panned out strongly implies that the unnecessary framing device was a part of Mr. Garland’s original vision and not borne from studio notes.

Regardless of how, exactly, this decision was made, it causes a lot of problems with pacing on top of violating the basic storytelling premise of showing rather than telling. Exposition is welcome when dealing with a premise as strange and otherworldly as the one upon which this film operates. However, this film is at its most effective when it allows the plot developments to speak for themselves. It could have been used to expand upon certain events, but there isn’t anything the viewer can extrapolate from these scenes that they could plainly see in the film proper. Conversely, if something isn’t explained, you can safely bet it was meant to be deliberately vague. As it stands, whenever it cut back to Lena speaking with the official, I found myself impatiently waiting for the scene to finish so the film could return to the interesting portions.

What I consider to be this film’s biggest flaw, however, is that it bares many growing pains from Mr. Garland having upgraded his sense of scale between projects. Many contemporary efforts – particularly ones that tried to enforce a certain commentary – were guilty of having significant logical discrepancies. This was especially common with heavy-handed narratives, as creators would become laser-focused on their message to the point where every other aspect suffered due to not receiving the same level of scrutiny. For example, District 9 suffered from such extreme tunnel vision, the narrative enforced the very unfortunate implications it was trying to combat.

Now, Annihilation is not nearly as heavy-handed as something such as District 9. If anything, I find myself Mr. Garland credit for being critical without becoming too preachy. What I instead fault him for is that the premise of his film makes very little sense when parsing its diegetic implications. The narrative goes to great lengths to keep Lena in the dark. This is the basic means by which important exposition is delivered, and it is especially helpful when trying to make sense out of such a phenomenon to have someone equally uninitiated go through the same motions. Nevertheless, the narrative’s attempts at maintaining this premise result in myriad plot holes.

To wit, there are several points wherein members of Lena’s team wish to escape the Shimmer so they could report on their findings. Dr. Ventress shoots down this notion, reasoning that they can’t turn back until they discover the full truth. Anything less would cause further confusion. This heavily implies that every single group before them decided not to turn back either. There comes a point when an expedition has gone so thoroughly off the rails that one must realize the most ideal outcome can no longer be reached – at least not without, at best, achieving a pyrrhic victory. A partial report would be highly preferable to a nonexistent one – especially given that only one person has emerged from the Shimmer alive.

To be fair, considering the strange effects the Shimmer has on the protagonists, they are likely not in a sound state of mind. However, this is something the audience needs to be informed of. It is a rookie mistake to assume that stupid or mentally unsound characters make bad decisions for no reason. While characters can indeed make illogical decisions, they still must be logically consistent. This does sound counterintuitive, but people tend to make illogical decisions as a result of mental blind spots. If you’re to the point where your characters are making bad calls solely to advance the plot or maintain its integrity, there is a serious problem with the script.

The narrative does attempt to justify this by giving Dr. Ventress terminal cancer, thus meaning she has nothing to lose by undergoing this mad journey, and the consequences for risking her subordinates so brazenly would be minimal. However, it still doesn’t explain why any previous team failed in the exact same way – unless the government had the foresight to only send leaders who were also secretly dying of cancer or some other kind of terminal illness. This would include the very first team they sent back when they had no information about the Shimmer at all. It also fails to account for the fact that Dr. Ventress’s subordinates clearly don’t buy her tenuous reasoning yet go along with the expedition for no reason other than to ensure the plot has a proper resolution.

On a more general level, the premise falls apart when you consider that the meteor fell in a reasonably populated area. The people living there were told to evacuate due to a chemical spill, which is why it is deserted when Lena’s team investigates it. The government has been covering up the incident for three years, which suggests not a single person has asked any questions about it in the interim. I could understand that if the meteor landed in an obscure part of the world such as northern Canada or Antarctica, but not on a United States coastline. Logically, there is no possible way they could have covered up such an incident for three years. Such a feat could only be achieved if they bribed, imprisoned, or killed every single citizen whose lives were directly affected – and then repeat that process for every other human being in the entire world once independent sources inevitably discovered the Shimmer’s existence.

Finally, I found the ending to be somewhat underwhelming. Upon reaching the lighthouse, Lena discovers that Kane has committed suicide using an incendiary grenade. The Kane who emerged from the Shimmer was actually a doppelgänger that spawned into being after the original’s destruction. Here, Dr. Ventress disintegrates, causing a humanoid figure to appear that mimics Lena’s every movement. Lena defeats it by having the figure mimic her own suicidal tendencies, placing an active phosphorus grenade in its hands. The figure makes no attempt to resist and it is set ablaze along with the lighthouse. After Lena discloses everything to the official, Kane makes a miraculous recovery. When Lena asks if Kane is the genuine article, he admits he probably isn’t. He asks the same question; Lena doesn’t respond. He embraces her and both of their irises shimmer.

With Ex Machina, Mr. Garland made it no secret his contempt of the Hollywood ending, and in a way, Annihilation follows in its footsteps. As a twist ending, it is far less obnoxious than that of Ex Machina. The ending of Ex Machina fell apart when you realize that it left one character without any further motivations. While others praised it for its subversive nature, I simply asked, “Okay, and then what?” The ending of Annihilation is more effective because, ironically enough, it is more ambiguous. It pulls the rug from under the audience, but it places the onus on them to figure things out. Is Lena a clone? Did Kane really die? It’s clear the Shimmer altered them both, but the narrative doesn’t feel the need to unnecessarily blindside the audience, and in that regard, it is effective.

Where the narrative loses me is the dim view it has of humanity. Plenty of works espouse similar sentiments about humankind, but Annihilation subscribes to a dangerously naïve brand of nihilistic cynicism that was practically ubiquitous in late-2010s science fiction. To have been considered an intellectual at the time, it was practically a prerequisite to express contempt for other humans. I don’t expect works to solely focus on the good side of humankind, but to insist that it is in the species’ very nature to destroy themselves, one would have to blatantly ignore the many, many pieces of information capable of contradicting such a conclusion. By mimicking the incredibly shallow platitudes every other science fiction writer was saying at the time, Annihilation doesn’t have an identity it can truly call its own. I still think it’s better than Ex Machina, but it’s sad when you consider the intentionally misanthropic narrative manages to be improvement over the unintentionally anti-intellectual one.


Annihilation serves as an interesting case study when compared to Mr. Garland’s debut effort because while Ex Machina demonstrated his weaknesses on a micro scale, this film does so on a macro scale. That is, he could come up with some incredible concepts in the realm of science fiction but had a lot of difficulty getting his ideas to connect. The result was an artistic canon that, as of 2018, seemed impressive in the moment, yet seldom withstood any kind of deep, critical scrutiny. It is for that reason I can’t help but think of Mr. Garland as the George Lucas of his generation.

Both even fell apart once given complete creative control, though the exact way it occurred was far different. Despite mixed reviews for his Star Wars prequel trilogy, Mr. Lucas was able to reel in his audience. Indeed, Revenge of the Sith, the third and final entry ended up being the most profitable. Conversely, Mr. Garland worked with a budget far greater than that of Ex Machina and ended up making roughly the same amount of money. Exacerbating matters, Annihilation was released around the same time as Black Panther – perhaps the single most acclaimed film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe canon at the time. This combination of factors resulted in what was one of the biggest box office bombs of 2018. In stark contrast to A24’s propensity to back up any auteur who passed through their ranks, Paramount had no faith in the film at all. They actively sabotaged the film’s success by advertising it as little as possible and selling the distribution rights to Netflix to mitigate their own loses. To add insult to injury, it wasn’t made available on the streaming service in North America.

In response to this development, fans immediately considered Annihilation an underrated classic along with being one of the best films of 2018. While I can certainly sympathize with Mr. Garland’s plight, I have to say that, despite the fan’s extreme zeal for his work, it doesn’t fare much better than his debut. I do give credit to Annihilation for attempting to excise the anti-intellectual undertones of Ex Machina on top of boasting far more ambition. This is enough to make it a worthwhile watch for those who consider themselves connoisseurs of the genre. I can even envision people who didn’t like Ex Machina finding Annihilation a good effort.

Unfortunately, for all its ambition, Annihilation ultimately doesn’t escape the creative bankruptcy that defined science fiction in the 2010s. Despite many science-fiction pieces getting acclaim during this time, the rampant confirmation bias that dominated contemporary criticism ensured many creators received acclaim for hammering heavy-handed themes into the minds of their viewers rather than exercising their imagination. In this case, Annihilation is guilty of espousing the same trite platitudes concerning the supposed self-destructive nature of humankind other science-fiction pieces such as Black Mirror handed out like penny candy at the time. Regardless of the amount of vitriol they spat at humankind, it didn’t change the fact that it was an extremely passive way of creating art. Those with staying power tend to define the times; those without it tend to be defined by the times. Annihilation won’t necessarily lose you if you’re not onboard with its message, but if you find yourself wholly incapable of suffering confrontational zeitgeist of late-2010s filmmaking, you can give it a pass knowing it isn’t worth the investment.

Final Score: 4/10

25 thoughts on “Annihilation (Alex Garland, 2018)

  1. I didn’t make much of it either. It got a lot of acclaim, I must say, but I found it pretty dull and predictable. Although I liked the double Portman bit, where she’s up against the chemical thing dude. A highlight in an otherwise dodgy romp.

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    • Yeah, it’s definitely a product of the late-2010s science fiction scene for better and for worse. Probably why the central twists in Annihilation come across as predictable and trite; the science fiction scene at the time universally hammered the same exact themes into their audience’s head to the point where they became clichés before the decade even ended. The ending sequences were very well-shot, but like Ex Machina, Annihilation is another case style triumphing over substance in films.

      Liked by 1 person

        • Oscar Isaac has the dubious honor of being one of the best actors without ever starring in a good film (or if he has, I haven’t seen it). I admire his willingness to take chances, but between the Star Wars sequel trilogy, Ex Machina, and Annihilation, his agent really needs to find better projects for him.

          That style-over-substance mentality may win over film critics, but it sticks out like a sore thumb to anyone versed in more than one medium, I find.

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          • He has a small part in Drive from 2011. I quite like that film. So there’s 1. But, yeah, I’m surprised he’s not been in better stuff.

            If you’re younger and less experienced with films then Ex Machina etc. probably seem pretty revolutionary. But it’s important to watch the classics for that reason.

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            • Oh yeah, he was in that, wasn’t he? I completely forgot. But you’re right – that’s one good film in the face of five bad/mediocre ones. It’s not a good track record so far.

              It would also seem revolutionary if you blatantly ignore stuff such as Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors and Virtue’s Last Reward, which touch upon many similar themes as Ex Machina et al., on top of providing much more substantive experiences because the authors thereof were actually interested in telling a story.

              EDIT: Okay, I also saw him in Inside Llewyn Davis and he voiced a minor character in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. The former was decent while the latter was one of the best films of 2018, but that’s still two good films versus six middling/bad ones. And if you’re only counting lead roles, then the number of good films drops to zero.

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    • As I said, I do think that Alex Garland can come up with some interesting concepts; his main weakness is that he has trouble getting them to connect. The result is that both of his feature-length films thus far ultimately fail to form anything greater than the sum of their parts. Bad execution may not negate a great idea, but it does result in a loss of goodwill.

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  2. I liked this one but I think in large part I found it better than the book. I enjoy the premise and while I do agree Garland has a hard time connecting the book didn’t even give anyone names and the first book was still the better of the whole series. It would have been interesting to see what happened if there was a better back and forth between him and the studio.

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    • I’ve never actually read the book, but I have to admit I’m kind of interested in doing so because I heard it’s a pretty loose adaptation. I do like that because it ensures that the adaptation isn’t going through the same exact motions, and there are certain storytelling techniques that don’t always translate well between mediums. It is therefore important to know what can and can’t make the leap. It’s kind of like Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining in that regard.

      Actually, what I meant by that was that Mr. Garland is an ideas man first, a style man second, a themes man third, and an execution man an extremely distant fourth. That said, I do wonder exactly how this project would’ve fared had the executives not been such an obstruction. Apparently, the film we saw was unaltered, so unlike most cases, I find myself less willing to cut the auteur slack – obstructive though the executives may have been.

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  3. This sounds quite different to the book (I only read the first book as it was one of the worst, most boring things I’d ever read and refused to carry on with the trilogy) but the film sounds just as flawed and unenjoyable.

    The whole meteor cover up you described just sounds like a mixed of laughably bad and lazy plot construction.

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    • Yeah, I heard the book is one of those love-it-or-hate-it deals. It must’ve been pretty bad if it lost you that much.

      I can’t speak for the quality of the book, but the film is equal parts contrived and convoluted. It may not be as heavy-handed as something such as District 9, but it does suffer from that unique form of tunnel vision that results when you are so laser focused on your message that you forget to make everything else logically consistent. Not exactly what I’d call the thinking person’s sci-fi feature.

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  4. Hmm, it’s been a couple years since I watched this movie, but I took something very different away from it. I interpreted it at the time as the Shimmer takes what comes into it and merges the characteristics of all life that comes in within itself… the group of people that were sent in in the film were each selected because they themselves were self-destructive in order to get the Shimmer to take on the quality of self-destruction, as that (might?) be the only way to defeat it. I personally thought that was a good twist, as I did not immediately realize that the characters were essentially sent on a suicide mission without necessarily knowing it.
    I did not get a message of criticizing humanity for environmental destruction, but I’m sure if I went back and watched it with that in mind I might then see it.

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    • Where the narrative loses me is that it insists that such behavior is typical of the human condition when, if you think about it, is manifestly not the case. The idea of someone being self-destructive is intrinsically abnormal, hence why psychologists have classified it as such. The insistence that it’s in human nature to do that is nothing more than the narrative parroting a trite platitude that was a cliché long before this project was ever greenlit. Indeed, 2010s science fiction formed clichés in a quarter of the time most artistic movements do.

      Regardless, the horribly convoluted setup made it nigh impossible to appreciate the portions that were done well. It comes across as one of those things in which the author realized a plot hole as he was conceiving the script only to create a larger one in his attempt to fix it. It really is a mess. It certainly is creative, and I do give it credit for not having the dangerously anti-intellectual mindset that defined Ex Machina. For that matter, I give it credit for implementing that message in a way that doesn’t beat you over the head with it; I myself didn’t get it until after I read online about it, and by 2018 standards, that was exceedingly rare. Nonetheless, it is yet another film with great ideas that don’t get to shine due to awful execution, and its central theme, in the worst sense of the term, cements it as a product of its time.

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  5. You’re still quite generous to Garland, I’d say 😉 I haven’t seen Ex Machina, but I saw Annihilation early on and didn’t even bother with reviewing this piece of junk. I felt it was needlessly puffed-up with self-importance, awfully pretentious and, at the same time, empty of meaning. The plot holes were so glaring the movie lost me very early on, and instead I just concentrated on visuals, which admittedly weren’t so bad. The whole concept of Shimmer, as you rightly point out, just doesn’t make sense in the movie’s setting: neither the cover-up, nor the scientific teams send there to explore/die – there’s no angle it can work, especially with the clueless agents interviewing Lena afterwards. The ending was another letdown – admittedly, I didn’t find much ambiguity there and just assumed that the way it’s been filmed and cued with music was a dead giveaway that they both were Shimmer’s product.
    Great review!

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    • I assure you that whatever problems you may have had with Annihilation are even worse in Ex Machina. Granted, Ex Machina’s plot holes aren’t nearly as large as the ones that feature in Annihilation, but it fails by virtue of having none of its few moving parts emerge without major execution issues. Like in Annihilation, Mr. Garland demonstrated an inability to think through his implications with Ex Machina, so while it touted itself as the thinking person’s science-fiction piece, it actually came across as deeply anti-intellectual – ironic, I know. You’d have to see it to understand what I mean, but I will say that the narrative really does not treat the concept of intelligent thinking with any kind of respect.

      With Annihilation, Mr. Garland threw several more ideas at the wall in the hopes that something would stick, so if it’s an improvement, it’s because this method couldn’t help but generate a larger number of good ideas – even with the blatant plot discrepancies. It’s like making twenty out of two-hundred baskets while having made five out of ten in your previous court appearance. Sure, this hypothetical person made more baskets the second time around, but they had to miss far more often to achieve that milestone.

      Then again, Mr. Garland is one of those directors who has garnered a dedicated cult-like fanbase – many of whom happen to be Rotten Tomatoes-approved critics. Therefore, judging his actual skill as a filmmaker can be a bit tricky. If his first two films are anything to go by, he really has trouble getting his good ideas to connect and his inability to think through his implications allow his bad ideas flourish unabated. He might be one of those types who needs to bounce ideas off of others to be successful like George Lucas, but whatever his current creative process is, it is clearly not working.

      I have to admit I’m a little more forgiving of the ending of Annihilation because it’s not as obnoxious as that of Ex Machina, but I wouldn’t even dream of defending it in any way.

      Glad you liked this review!

      Liked by 1 person

      • It’s a given, then: I won’t be watching Ex Machina anytime soon! 😉

        I’m intrigued by your comparison of Garland to Lucas; I feel Lucas at least, for all his faults, had a dream of creating something long-lasting and complete, and not a bunch of unconnected ideas of varied quality. That’s said, I see the similarity in the way they both clearly needed a sounding board for their ideas, or even someone who would translate those ideas to screen (a success of this approach is obvious in Empire Strikes Back).

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        • I also see Mr. Garland’s general approach to creating art as an invocation of the Centipede’s Dilemma. It’s as though he feels the need to elevate science fiction out of that niche that it’s usually pigeonholed into. Meanwhile, I feel the most profound artistic statements tend to come not from people attempting to achieve that nebulous high-art standard, but rather doing what comes naturally. For that matter, that is the defining flaw of today’s auteurs. They tend to take on a “my way or the highway” approach that is enabled by independent studios (A24 being the biggest offender). It gets them critical acclaim, but I find critics tend to be biased in favor of auteurs for good and for ill. I can appreciate having an artistic vision, but in many of those cases (including Mr. Garland), it’s like giving the microphone to a person who will talk your ears off, yet has nothing interesting to say.

          Conversely, when I reviewed Ex Machina, I compared Mr. Garland with Krzysztof Kieślowski, claiming him to be his exact opposite. Mr. Kieślowski was a true talent in that he knew how to be artistic without being the least bit pretentious. Better yet, he knew how to skillfully subvert expectations due to being able to think more than one step ahead when drafting his scripts. Mr. Garland comes across as the kind of writer who will subvert expectations at every opportunity – even if it ends up cheapening his own script. If you’re looking for good arthouse films with a soulful, human element to them, I highly recommend looking into Mr. Kieślowski’s filmography if you haven’t already – particularly Dekalog, The Double Life of Veronique, and the Three Colors trilogy.

          Liked by 1 person

          • I actually know Kieślowski’s movies quite well; not all of them, and not all of them I like equally, but I fully agree with you – he had an amazing gift for subtlety and for achieving amazing effects with the simplest of methods, creating something unique and evocative, and treating his audience as partners and equals: so much depends in his movies on the viewer and the viewer’s sensitivity. Yes indeed, Garland’s movies are nothing like that 😉

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    • Admittedly, I was fairly impressed with it back when I saw it, but then I ended up turning on it when I read a few articles about the film, causing me to realize things weren’t adding up. It’s not the anti-intellectual disaster that Ex Machina was, but underwhelming is an apt description. For all of its ambition, it’s just kind of… there.

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