You'd be forgiven for not knowing Alex Garland by name, as much of his career has been strictly behind the scenes. Rising to prominence as an author thanks to his popular novel The Beach, Garland soon made the transition to film, backing films the likes of 28 Days Later, Sunshine, and Never Let Me Go. His limited, but varied credits, that blended psychological character study with powerful central themes, made him a natural fit for the Sci-Fi realm.
But rather than play behind the scenes, he soon struck out on his own, his debut resulting in the fascinating Ex Machina, that took a very intimate and minimalist approach to the genre. So how do you follow up such an ambitious debut? In Garland's case, opt for a larger scale, but just as intimate blend of sci-fi and horror, with an adaptation of Jeff Vandemeer's Annihilation. So what head-scratching ideas has Garland proposed to us today?
Shortly after the surprise return of her long absent husband (Oscar Isaac), biologist and former soldier Lena (Natalie Portman) is taken into the custody of a military force stationed in the Area X compound. Briefed on her husband's fateful expedition into the "Shimmer", a mutating force of slowly expanding energy, she joins the new research expedition led by psychologist Dr. Ventress (Jenifer Jason Leigh), paramedic Thorensen (Gina Rodriguez), physicist Radeck (Tessa Thompson), and geologist Sheppard (Tuva Novotny), but once inside, the group will have to fight for survival against the dangers of the Shimmer's environment, and against themselves.
Much like Garland's previous film, Annihilation makes its marks as a taut, provocative, intimate character piece of simple visual beauty. And much like Ex Machina, Annihilation is also a film dripping with tension, albeit in different ways to the claustrophobic containment of Ex Machina. With this follow-up, Garland decides to lean into that suspenseful nature, in many ways veering it closer to a horror film.
Fear of the unknown is a pervasive attitude of Annihilation, as we try to understand the bizarre and mysterious Shimmer. Very little is known about it, as those who venture inside are either killed by what's inside, or slowly begin to lose their minds, with Lena's husband Kane being the only recorded survivor. The atmosphere inside becomes very disorienting, as animals have drastically evolved and developed new survival instincts, weather and plant life are thrown into disarray, and even the body chemistry of the human researchers become affected. Memory suffers the worst, as days can go by that the characters can't even remember wasting. It's as if the Shimmer has taken on its own life emulating the human mind, leaving reasoning and all stability in chaotic shambles.
This mental crumbling can be further accentuated by the central group of brilliant explorers, established as a collection of damaged goods born from trauma that follows them in. Most of our time is dominated by the presence of Lena, a brilliant biologist thrown for a loop after the long absence of her husband. When Kane does eventually return, he can't remember where he's been, or how he get home, and so we like Lena spend the remaining time trying to piece together just what is happening, often receiving very little answer in return. Her background as a soldier also comes to serve her well in surviving the Shimmer, slyly painting the portrait of a woman trying to cling to whatever sense of normalcy she had, and instead of finding answers the exposure feels like it's reopening old wounds, that manifest themselves in frightening ways. All of this depends on a well chosen surrogate to carry this material, and fortunately, Natalie Portman is in top form here, serving as the glue and anchor holding the movie and the team together, even as her sanity begins to break.
Damaged goods she may be, however, it's her support team who are hit the worst by the Shimmer. Leading the team is Jennifer Jason Leigh's Ventress, a psychologist determined to bring the least baggage on the expedition with her. Very little really comes to be known about her, keeping her personal life and her own end goal in surveying the environment close to the chest, so there's also this very sinister quality to her presence, as you're never really sure what's running through her mind at any time. Others wear their emotions freely on their sleeve, feeling like people with nothing better than to be where they are right now, especially in the case of Tova Novotny's Sheppard, who for the longest time acts as the moral center. But not all reactions to the twistiness of the Shimmer are so calm. While Tessa Thompson's Radeck shows an innate - almost perverse fascination with the force, Gina Rodriguez's Thorensen slowly caves into her paranoia with a withdrawal-like desperation, as the human mind becomes just as dangerous to these people as the energy encasing them.
The Shimmer also clearly represents a more obvious Mother Nature presence, increasingly fighting back at the humans misusing the beautiful woodlands, and harming its creatures, many of whom have adapted with cross-breed mutation, from alligators with shark-life teeth, and one scary bear that can mimic their slain prey. But dangerous and chaotic as the Shimmer is, there's also this rapturous beauty to it. The ecosystem thrives with vivid life and color, with plant life that can sprout flowers of varying species and families, and organic life overtaken by crystallized coating. All of it looks and feels so alien and intimidating, but it's also a world that feels organic and transfixing, as the very sound surrounding the space breathes with its own heartbeat.
And certainly all parties will be thrown for a loop by its third act, that sits contently within its ambiguity that will be a leap of faith for many. Without giving too much away, it's a finale designed to be intentionally anticlimactic, that acts to utterly blur the line between threatening and awe-inspiring. The actions taken within are sure to inspire plenty of personal introspection and debate, especially as its nature-centric roots develop into meditations of ethics vs action, as well as finding comfort in extraordinary and traumatic experiences. In many ways, this would make a great companion piece to Arrival, with a hefty number of intriguing nuggets to mull over.
This isn't to say that Annihilation is perfect. Its habit of spelling out its central ideas - via interstitials that halt the momentum of the film - can make it feel like Garland is laying the exposition on a little too thick. But such issues can't take away from what an awesome, literally awe-inspiring movie this is. In spite of its novel inspirations, Annihilation feels like a true work of originality, its spearhead continuing to find new and innovative ways of blending high concept ideals with engaging emotional insight. But much like Ex Machina before it, I'm expecting this film to be just as rewarding and revealing upon additional watches, and mayhaps those nagging flaws may not only be rendered forgivable on reflection, they may cease to be relevant, as Garland strives to push the envelope of Sci-Fi's untapped potential
****1/2 / *****
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