But every so often, I still feel like penning some thoughts down, and after having the most bipolar double feature you could possibly imagine, I thought it would be amusing to compare. Not only that, but I'll be doing my best to lay out more thoughts on future viewing experiences, if not given full review status. So let's dissect this.
Climax:
The initiated may have to fill me in on director Gaspar Noe, who to my knowledge, makes his bread and butter as an artistic provocateur with a thing for Neon. If so, that certainly carries on into Climax, which is... such a weird introduction to him.
The premise of the film is simple: A large dance troupe are throwing a celebratory party, and then things take a turn for the worse as it becomes a hallucinogenic nightmare. And within that intimate, provocative, claustrophobic setting Noe confines the film to, he finds incredible tension. Noe has a lot of intriguing meditation as the depraved dance party reaches its continual peak. All the dancing is impressive and top notch, but also shallow in the meantime, a flashy veil to mask the emptiness and bitterness of the people performing the moves. Even if the film has no real story, the dancing becomes a storytelling device all its own, communicating volumes of repressed animosities and desires where words couldn't. All of it is captured effectively through the airtight technical build of the film, with significant 20-30 minute stretches shot in continuous takes, that shifts through dynamic lighting and character switches effortlessly, as the trippy descent into madness keeps one-upping itself. At the very least, Noe's brilliant use of photography is to be commended.
On the other hand, this is most of the film, and while I'm all for Noe's provocative and twisty vision, after a while, it greatly overstays its welcome. Climax suffers from an issue I have with a lot of chamber features set in one location, in that I find the film becoming so monotonous, I yearn for some variety in setting. That's certainly not aided by how intentionally abrasive Noe's style of direction is, pumping in pulsing techno from every angle, and the occasional epileptic fever dream imagery. After a while, the film loses that forward momentum, and just spins its wheels as it chugs along to the finish. At the very least, my attention was restored anytime we cut back to Sofia Boutella, who in addition to the committed physicality that's made her such a magnetic performer, is afforded a stellar showcase of what she's capable of accomplishing emotionally. But she isn't even the main focus most of the time, as the film interweaves with what feels like thirty different characters, that the movie is very inconsistent in how it devotes time to (and in some cases, gives too much attention to them).
By the time the film is over, I respect the intention of its artist, even at its most intentionally repugnant, but it's so obviously running on fumes by its finale, having spent all of its energy long before that happens.
**1/2 / *****
Wonder Park:
I think there's plenty of middle ground for non-Disney, non-Dreamworks, etc. animation studios, with Paramount returning to the fold with their Nickelodeon banner, to produce Wonder Park, a movie so pathetic, how it's director got fired and isn't credited is far more interesting.
To be fair, it takes a while for the film to sink into terrible territory, but even so, it's aggressively dull as it builds up to then. Before finally venturing into the main theme park (Wonderland), we find our main character June going through a turbulent early childhood, as her very ill mother goes away for treatment, and the girl's whole world - including her originally irrepressible ingenuity and spirit - is rocked. A Pixar worthy idea, but not in a Pixar worthy execution, given how the theme park and the emotional turbulence of childhood never truly meet in the middle, but worse is how frightened it plays with the latter. Once June enters the park, her mother's illness becomes a background footnote as opposed to a driving plot force. Ultimately, the film chickens out or downplays those ickier and depressing feelings, and doesn't even remember them until the very end when it needs to become relevant again. It's a shame, because it could have been more affecting than it actually is, instead of getting lost in all the colorful flashiness.
This movie's pacing is airtight, and I do not mean that in a nice way. Once we finally enter the central park (just over half an hour in, by the way), this movie refuses to stop and take a breath. It's always in such a hasty rush to jump from one set-piece to the next, placing the emotional core of the film on the back burner, to give more prominence to the cuddly animal friends (aka. the mascots). Within the span of ten minutes, Mila Kunis' warthog goes from suspicion, to trust, to dismissal, to forgiveness of June (seriously, it's that rushed). With how little time is devoted to letting us get to know the mascots or the people who visit the park, or of each significant location of the park, it's hard for us to form any sort of connection to any of it, or to really admire the scale of the land. Then again, at least that's merciful, given how obnoxious these animal sidekicks are. Each of them boil down to these single note static stand ins, existing in a vacuum to fill out their basic roles and comic relief bits. From a narcoleptic bear to a safety freak porcupine that wastes John Oliver, they're all annoying company to share in, and they never grow through the entirety of this movie.
It may not be a significant time waster, but there's so much untapped potential that just wasn't taken advantage of. By the end, it feels like the film concludes before it even gets interesting, feeling like the set up to a future Nick TV show. Which is no accident, given that Nick intends to spin it off into one. Frankly, Nickelodeon is where this movie should have stayed.
*1/2 / *****
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