We are living in a renaissance of science fiction on the big screen. Directors and writers who grew up as ten year olds watching Star Wars and 2001 are now producing films like Arrival, Edge of Tomorrow and the new Planet of the Apes trilogy, creating stunning new worlds and pushing our appreciation of genre films. Even superhero movies have been elevated by recent entries (Logan, Captain America: Winter Soldier), creating new waves of excitement and importance for films that were usually discarded as popcorn installments.
And, very quietly, director Alex Garland has been one of these creators leading us through this renaissance. Even before his directorial debut of the stunning Ex Machina, he had already landed a definite impact on this new sci-fi landscape, receiving final writing credits for movies like Dredd, Never Let Me Go and Sunshine, each beautiful, well-done movies that just happened to be set in a science fiction universe. Even his early writing work on 28 Days Later revitalized a “dying” horror genre, partially leading to the renewed success and popularity of zombies (and The Walking Dead).
His latest, Annihilation, is no different, taking the reins as the first great movie of 2018. Important and radically distinctive from any other preceding piece of science fiction, it will not be for everyone. Slow, deliberate and disturbingly beautiful, the film’s colors and foliage tell deep stories that feel like they can be explored for hours.
Based on the book series by Jeff VanderMeer, Annihilation crafts and upends familiar tropes like Predator’s alien hunters and The Fly’s body horror, turning what was once generic and nearly stereotypical into a cohesive, unique story. Even the casting feels deliberate, in that sense: the Star Wars prequels’ Natalie Portman leading the film as ex-Army biologist Lena, mourning the death of her husband, played by the Star Wars sequels’ Oscar Isaac. Nothing is without purpose.
Like in the novel, Lena’s (recently subdued) life as a professor at Johns Hopkins is upended, sending her to the literal front lines of secretive combat between humanity and “The Shimmer”. Before the audience is even properly introduced to her team (led by The Hateful Eight’s Jennifer Jason Leigh), Lena volunteers to travel into the forest, which is deemed near-suicide by the scientists and experts around her. From there, however, the movie drastically deviates from the plot and twists of its source material, creating a self-contained story that really encapsulates the terrifying Shimmer, while telling its own tale.
Annihilation stands on its own, bolstered by the films that have come before it to answer audience’s questions without resorting to over-explanation: taking familiar moments like the hives from the Alien series or the transformations from The Thing and turning them into something even more beautiful and grotesque.
The creature design spread tantalizingly throughout the runtime is incredible in its own right: terrifying, surprising crocodiles and beautiful, duplicitous deer are initially familiar but quickly alien, creating a world that is both recognizable and unnerving. And, while there are definitely some moments of true terror surrounding these creatures, Garland does not dwell on them. He uses the audience as just another member of the expedition, hardly able to grasp neither the beauty nor the terror.
And, like the audience, each character of the surprisingly small cast reacts differently to the terror around them: Tessa Thompson’s quiet Josie (Thor Ragnarok) gives into the world peacefully, while Gina Rodriguez’s Anya responds rather violently. Portman plays into her military-hardened biologist role, slinging her gun down beaches and through forests, allowing the viewer to feel as secure as she does, even when confronted with drastic outcomes. Magically (and grotesquely), each of these character’s internal strife is personified and manifested, their character’s flaws leading them to physical pain and self-discovery.
But, like its characters, the movie’s flaws are jarring, at points. The interconnected scenes between Portman’s character and Benedict Wong’s hazmat-suit-clad scientist are nearly unnecessary, drawing attention away (perhaps purposefully) from the tension, but allowing no real revelations that could not have been explored naturally. And, of course, Oscar Isaac’s character is underused (he is in a coma, understandably), reflecting his time concurrently shooting The Last Jedi next door at Pinewood Studios. Even then, however, the moments that Isaac and Portman share on screen are nearly perfect, two actors at the top of their craft creating believable, heart-wrenching chemistry.
The last twenty minutes of the movie contain some of the most visually striking moments I have ever seen on the screen, reminding me of the kaleidescopes of A Space Odyssey. As we shift from our world to the forest of the Shimmer, the soundtrack’s music jumps erratically from soothing, seventies-esque guitar to strained, reverberating John Carpenter synth, reflecting the duality that permeates the film. As The Last Jedi’s director Rian Johnson so eloquently put it: “see it in the loudest theater you can”.
This is a movie that will stick to you, begging repeat viewings on the biggest screens imaginable, two hour journeys into a world that, at first glance, doesn’t seem that different than ours.
