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The Pieta & Unrealized Potential
Tom Sawyer & Greed
The Destruction of Beauty
Geydar Dzhemal on Islam (my translation)
The Bolito as a Token of Progress
The Post Soviet Space: Paradigm Shift and Social Control
The Myth of Adam and the Myth of the Frontier
An Argument Against David’s Evolution into Personhood
Vincent and Jerome: One Entity
C.N. Lazarev on the Russian Problem (2021, my translation)
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Good points.
I mentioned below how I'm not certain I am completely tied to the original idea. I do think this film has multiple layers and can certainly be interpreted in many ways, so I wouldn't begrudge someone for a slightly off-kilter interpretation.
I'm sure there are Jungian subscribers out there, but I can't personally speak to the scale of his popularity.
That said, these days I'm not entirely tethered to this original post anyway, so consider me neutral on this one.
<i>Gattaca</i> is an exceptionally pristine and beautiful film. I think that the film's aesthetic and distinct look is only bolstered by the sublime work of Michael Nyman, and although many people are impartial to the sepia filter, I find it enhances the film's mood.
Ace, your points are thorough, concise, and difficult to contend. I am not tethered to any one theory regarding this film, so I appreciate your insights as always.
If it were Divine Intervention, then what would be the point if Milton could continue to tempt Kevin. By giving Milton another chance, God risks granting Milton more power. This is buttressed further by the idea of free-will. If Kevin has free-will, then there is always a chance with each reset that he will finally succumb to Milton's advances. This appears a very large risk for God to take, unless...
God is, as Milton suggests, "sick." Perhaps God knows that there is no free-will, knows that Kevin will continue to always foil Milton's advances every time a reset occurs, and is essentially toying with Milton. In such a scenario, he is also toying with Kevin, and now the audience must truly consider Milton's words: Is God just having fun toying with everyone, Milton included? Is everything a ruse? One big massive form of deranged entertainment?
This type of Gnostic-like interpretation may be what the director's were trying to accomplish.
Thank you. Great points all-around, Ace.
I think it's a testament to a film's scope and inner complexity when such varied and opposing viewpoints can be held and cogently argued.
I value your ability to amicably discuss ideas that you may not necessarily agree with. As Mikhael Veller once said, "the true mark of a man's intelligence is the ability to hold opposing ideas."
I will concede that Vincent does, at least in one shown instance, attempt to prioritize Lauren over his job, but I am not so certain he is truly <i>trying</i> to connect with his domestic life in any meaningful manner. But I also believe this is the point that Mann is trying to make. The world that Vincent and Neil inhabit is "hard." The scene where Neil's team attempts to kill Waingro in the diner is contrasted with the scene where Vincent's team is violent toward Van Zandt's informant.
All of the men in this film are disconnected from the emotionally-driven world that their significant others inhabit. In fact, every single female character that is shown in the film suffers a negative fate. Charlene must let Chris go, Elaine (Michael's wife) and Bosko's (Vincent's partner) wife become widows, Anna (Trejo's wife) is murdered. Even Donald, whose partner was supportive of him and wanted desperately for him to turn his life around turns into a widow after Neil effortlessly convinces him to take on a heist at the final moment.
Mann's male characters are unable to connect with the contemporary world. The "postmodern bullshit" that Vincent goes on a tirade about is essentially the world that has become domesticated. Although Justine accepts Vincent's terms in the end, we understand that she will always remain unhappy and unfulfilled. This is hinted at by showing her taking Diazepine in the mornings.
As for Neil, Michael Mann, in <i>One Heat Minute</i>, mentioned that the reason Neil overrides his cultivated habits (e.g., walking away) is because Eady's introduction into his life "emotionalized" him and dulled his professional habits.
Since Vincent and Neil are meant to be analogs of one another, I believe that Neil would not have found any solace or contentment in his life with her. He, like Vincent, would have been unable to come to terms with domestication.
<blockquote>Neil's viewpoint could also be about him setting himself apart from humanity entirely. Down below him and beyond him are the human beings, he's this aloof figure up on the hill.</blockquote>
This is actually an excellent point that I haven't considered or heard before.
<blockquote>I've long felt that Neil's rejection of human connection is weirdly what does him in. He's succeeding in his escape attempt up until he rejects his true connection for his revenge.</blockquote>
I wonder if part of the compassion we ultimately feel for Neil at the climax is because at the end of the day, he <i>does</i> still have a code of honor. On an objective level, he is of course a criminal. We see him rob and kill. On the other hand, however, we see that Waingro is unhinged, unprincipled, and has no lingering note of humanity. He is difficult to side with precisely because he is a black and white villain. An interesting detail is that when Neil is about to kill someone or take on a heist, he is wearing a black suit. When he is going about business and talking, he is seen wearing a gray suit. I think this is to make the distinction that Neil is in fact a gray character and must be observed and analyzed through that lens.
<blockquote>Vincent's home is the opposite. It isn't the things that connect him to the home, it's the people. His step-daughter is so, so important to him. He does love his wife, even if he is driven away by his job. Vincent tries to have connections, even if he fails, but I think his making an effort is what makes him more of a hero.</blockquote>
I agree that there can be some merit to this idea, but I never got the complete sense that Vincent was truly comfortable in his wife's home. The connections felt rather cold and superficial. Even the relationship with his step-daughter seemed off-kilter. His affinity for her seemed like it was more out of pity that her biological father was absent than any true bond.
I'm glad you enjoyed the post.
Mann is really able to capture a certain atmosphere in his films, and there is a lot of symbolism.
The scene where Neil and his crew are having dinner is contrasted with the scene where Vincent and his crew also have dinner. In both instances we see that the men are lonely and appear unfulfilled. While Neil operates within the underground (his dinner sequence is situated on the bottom floor), Vincent operates above others (his dinner sequence is in a high-rise).
It is also interesting to note that Neil is always wearing a white collared shirt, possibly suggesting his attempts at blending in with civil society, whereas Vincent is shown wearing darker colors, suggesting his link with the underworld.
When Neil faces his apartment building in the earlier scene, we only see his back, suggesting that at this point in the film, Neil truly is steadfast in his maxim of walking out on anything should the need arise. Later in the film, however, after he has met Eady and there is heat, a similar moment with Neil facing the city is shown, only this time we see Neil's profile. While this may be subtle, Mann himself said that Eady's appearance in Neil's life "emotionalized him," making him less resolute in his prior convictions. Now he <i>will</i> hesitate or think twice before walking away. This exact act of hesitation occurs near the final moments of the film, as he stares at Eady for over 30 seconds of screen time before running away from Vincent.
There is certainly a lot to analyze with the film.
Baudrillard once wrote that "[the Santa Monica Pier] at dawn, is one of the most insignificant shorelines in the world, just a place to go fishing. The Western World ends on a shore devoid of signification, like a journey that loses all meaning when it reaches its end. The immense metropolis of Los Angeles peters out here in the sea like a desert, with all the nonchalance of a desert."
In the earliest moments of the film, we see Neil stare outside his balcony, a scene saturated in blue tones to denote a feeling of emptiness or isolation. In a sense, Mann may be implying that Neil is staring at nothing—the end of the American Frontier, where there is nothing of meaning or purpose. Neil lives in a postmodern home with minimalist furniture. In the postmodern landscape, the object serves as a reflection of the subject; Neil's home—symbolically mirroring his inner state—is empty, "suggesting the emotional bankruptcy of bourgeois life in the post-industrial moment" (Christopher Sharrett, 2007).
Similarly, Vincent's home has nothing that attaches him, save for a portable television. Vincent's police station extends this postmodern architecture, with an office that is more reminiscent of a prison with its "concrete and grey slabs" (Craig Ashley Russell, 2015) than any conventional office.
<blockquote>But you have there the myth of the essential white America. All the other stuff, the love, the democracy, the floundering into lust, is a sort of by-play. The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic,' and a killer. It has never yet melted.</blockquote>
-D.H. Lawrence on James Fenimore Cooper's Deerslayer
"At the end, both Neil and Vincent are alone, less, I think, to showcase the “final showdown” to which the drama has been moving than to emphasise their alienation from domesticity and forms of male organisation alike" (Sharrett, 2007).
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