Believe it or not, there are a good handful of reasonably prominent genre films that – over the years – the readership have ‘taken me to task’ over.
No, I’m not going to start this review out my naming them, though I suspect a few of them might manage to creep in before all is said and done. To clarify, my position has never been – nor will it ever be – that I don’t like these motion pictures: rather, it’s that I personally don’t see any substantive reason for them to have received the amount of praise they have or that I’m a bit befuddled by conclusions some in the critical and academic community reached by watching the same thing I did. Though it’s sometimes easy to chalk these disagreements up to just differences of opinion, I can still cite some individual cases where a person of some acclaim – maybe even someone I find myself often agreeing with – just praises a certain film to the point of naming it one of the most significant Science Fiction or Fantasy or Horror productions he’s (or she’s) ever seen; this inevitably forces me to put on a look of sheer confusion – if not exasperated astonishment – as the only form of response. Yes, sometimes it is that mystifying … and I’m of a mindset that it shouldn’t be.
Now, yes, I am talking briefly here about Dark City (1998), but even that admission requires an honest clarification: when speaking about the feature written (in part) and directed by Alex Proyas, I’m usually addressing my complaints to the originally released theatrical edit, one which I’m quite sure has been a bit universally panned over the years. In fact, I distinctly recall a fair number of my educated betters emerging from their respective screenings feeling a bit lost with the plot of one man finding out that he might be the very center of a microcosmic universe (after all); and yet their opinions have changed somewhat dramatically when presented with the Director’s Cut finally given license roughly a decade later. All well and good – opinions can change when we’re given more to digest – and, true, Proyas’ return feels like it was conceived as a fuller meal on almost all counts.
Still … here’s the thing: at the end of the viewing, none of the significant questions I had after watching the original flick were really addressed … so pardon me if I’m still over here standing on my soapbox claiming that Dark City remains one of Science Fiction’s biggest missed opportunities at true, cinematic greatness.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
No, I’m not going to start this review out my naming them, though I suspect a few of them might manage to creep in before all is said and done. To clarify, my position has never been – nor will it ever be – that I don’t like these motion pictures: rather, it’s that I personally don’t see any substantive reason for them to have received the amount of praise they have or that I’m a bit befuddled by conclusions some in the critical and academic community reached by watching the same thing I did. Though it’s sometimes easy to chalk these disagreements up to just differences of opinion, I can still cite some individual cases where a person of some acclaim – maybe even someone I find myself often agreeing with – just praises a certain film to the point of naming it one of the most significant Science Fiction or Fantasy or Horror productions he’s (or she’s) ever seen; this inevitably forces me to put on a look of sheer confusion – if not exasperated astonishment – as the only form of response. Yes, sometimes it is that mystifying … and I’m of a mindset that it shouldn’t be.
Now, yes, I am talking briefly here about Dark City (1998), but even that admission requires an honest clarification: when speaking about the feature written (in part) and directed by Alex Proyas, I’m usually addressing my complaints to the originally released theatrical edit, one which I’m quite sure has been a bit universally panned over the years. In fact, I distinctly recall a fair number of my educated betters emerging from their respective screenings feeling a bit lost with the plot of one man finding out that he might be the very center of a microcosmic universe (after all); and yet their opinions have changed somewhat dramatically when presented with the Director’s Cut finally given license roughly a decade later. All well and good – opinions can change when we’re given more to digest – and, true, Proyas’ return feels like it was conceived as a fuller meal on almost all counts.
Still … here’s the thing: at the end of the viewing, none of the significant questions I had after watching the original flick were really addressed … so pardon me if I’m still over here standing on my soapbox claiming that Dark City remains one of Science Fiction’s biggest missed opportunities at true, cinematic greatness.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A man struggles with memories of his past, which include a wife he cannot remember and a nightmarish world no one else ever seems to wake up from.”
Before I delve into the intricacies of what makes an effort like Dark City as brilliant and equally as flawed as it is, let’s make one point certain: films like it are why those of us who love watching, thinking, and writing about them to do what we do. In other words, we see things in these adventures. Sometimes, we identify with the characters. In other cases, we are intrigued by the world as presented and are even willing to take great strides to understand it. In other ways still, there’s something in the picture’s primary message that resonates with us – rings like a bell or reverberates like a jackhammer – causing watchers to embrace it when even stronger stories in similar territory fall flat. Because both watching and interpreting such tales is so personal experience, I can even point to instances (few but they’re out there) wherein I cannot sensibly explain why a flick moves me the way it does. What can I say? I’m human after all!
On this scale, Proyas’ Dark City falls somewhere in the middle. I’ve seen it enough to know both what works aesthetically as well as cerebrally. I’ve certainly read enough about it to grasp where I believe the writer/director wanted it to go and maybe even his impressions of how successfully it achieved what he set out to do. And, yes, by ingesting the latest Arrow Films’ release – which is loaded with Arrow’s incredible assortment of odds and ends – I’ve probably thought enough about it to make up my own mind of its occasional genius being thwarted equally by (you guessed it!) its own occasional genius that I should have more to say about it.
However, I don’t. I just don’t.
Dark City is a film I like but, immeasurably, don’t quite understand. Under Proyas’ direction, it’s astonishingly efficient, and yet I’m not convinced it really says anything deeper than ‘be careful what you wish for.’ Damn near everything about the production is perfect – or as darkly pristine as was fully intended – but when I reach those closing scenes I’m still baffled with how I, as a viewer, am to be happy with the lead character choosing to live in a prison of his own making versus a prison of someone else’s design.
Or is that it? That I’m not supposed to be happy?
“A man struggles with memories of his past, which include a wife he cannot remember and a nightmarish world no one else ever seems to wake up from.”
Before I delve into the intricacies of what makes an effort like Dark City as brilliant and equally as flawed as it is, let’s make one point certain: films like it are why those of us who love watching, thinking, and writing about them to do what we do. In other words, we see things in these adventures. Sometimes, we identify with the characters. In other cases, we are intrigued by the world as presented and are even willing to take great strides to understand it. In other ways still, there’s something in the picture’s primary message that resonates with us – rings like a bell or reverberates like a jackhammer – causing watchers to embrace it when even stronger stories in similar territory fall flat. Because both watching and interpreting such tales is so personal experience, I can even point to instances (few but they’re out there) wherein I cannot sensibly explain why a flick moves me the way it does. What can I say? I’m human after all!
On this scale, Proyas’ Dark City falls somewhere in the middle. I’ve seen it enough to know both what works aesthetically as well as cerebrally. I’ve certainly read enough about it to grasp where I believe the writer/director wanted it to go and maybe even his impressions of how successfully it achieved what he set out to do. And, yes, by ingesting the latest Arrow Films’ release – which is loaded with Arrow’s incredible assortment of odds and ends – I’ve probably thought enough about it to make up my own mind of its occasional genius being thwarted equally by (you guessed it!) its own occasional genius that I should have more to say about it.
However, I don’t. I just don’t.
Dark City is a film I like but, immeasurably, don’t quite understand. Under Proyas’ direction, it’s astonishingly efficient, and yet I’m not convinced it really says anything deeper than ‘be careful what you wish for.’ Damn near everything about the production is perfect – or as darkly pristine as was fully intended – but when I reach those closing scenes I’m still baffled with how I, as a viewer, am to be happy with the lead character choosing to live in a prison of his own making versus a prison of someone else’s design.
Or is that it? That I’m not supposed to be happy?
John Murdoch (played by Rufus Sewell) wakes up in a hotel room next to the body of a dead woman bearing a curious sigil carved into her flesh. Doing the only thing a man utterly confused to find himself in such a predicament might do, he flees the scene of the crime only to realize slowly over the course of his flight that nothing about this place, his person, or his circumstance makes any sense. Initially, he’s thinking he’s suffered some mental breakdown fueled by marital difficulties with his wife Emma (Jennifer Connelly); and only the willing suspension of disbelief on the part of the city’s chief detective – Inspector Frank Bumstead (William Hurt) – is enough to grant John the leeway to pull back the layers of mystery surrounding (literally) everything in this tortured existence. His realization will present world-changing opportunities no one ever predicted possible.
The problem with searching for answers to questions only few hold is that, ultimately, some will pay a high price for risking to fly so close to the sun. Yes, that’s a cautionary warning most of us know, but it doesn’t stop Bumstead from going in cahoots with Murdoch. Eventually, he pays dearly; and it’s his demise that fundamentally underscores where I struggled with this particular City. In his death, we learn that – gasp! – none of this is real. Not the city. Not the identities. Nothing. It’s all being heavily manipulated at the hands of The Strangers, an alien race seeking to understand nothing more than ‘the human soul’ because they believe that grasping such concepts as humanity and individuality will somehow ‘cure’ their own looming extinction. Somehow – though it’s never explicitly explained – these aliens believe that playing with life and death will grant them the ability to – ahem – transcend both.
Erm … what?
Precisely how they can chase this rabbit endlessly down whatever hole it runs is their ability to tune.
Tuning – as best as I’ve settled on the concept as presented – is the Strangers’ talent to reshape reality into whatever construct they desire. If they need a door, then they simply imagine one; and it appears. If they need a new building, then they use their psychic abilities to bend and twist existing matter into this new edifice. While the process is demonstrated once or twice in the film, there’s still so very little information provided that, essentially, I pretty much mark it down as ‘the movie’s required magic,’ the kind of storytelling trickery that does anything whenever and wherever the script necessitates. Though we’re shown it has limitations (i.e. their machinery can manufacture whatever is needed from small objects to massive skyscrapers, but it requires individual Strangers to physically step into the City and position people and their possessions along with memory injections to accomplish these existential rewrites), the true extent of ‘tuning’ – much less its origins or its evolution from their species to Murdoch – is never quite clarified. Indeed, once Murdoch is brought into the realm of the The Strangers, he’s suddenly found telekinesis on the menu; and he puts this new gift to great use in deconstructing their world more vividly than they ever did his.
The problem with searching for answers to questions only few hold is that, ultimately, some will pay a high price for risking to fly so close to the sun. Yes, that’s a cautionary warning most of us know, but it doesn’t stop Bumstead from going in cahoots with Murdoch. Eventually, he pays dearly; and it’s his demise that fundamentally underscores where I struggled with this particular City. In his death, we learn that – gasp! – none of this is real. Not the city. Not the identities. Nothing. It’s all being heavily manipulated at the hands of The Strangers, an alien race seeking to understand nothing more than ‘the human soul’ because they believe that grasping such concepts as humanity and individuality will somehow ‘cure’ their own looming extinction. Somehow – though it’s never explicitly explained – these aliens believe that playing with life and death will grant them the ability to – ahem – transcend both.
Erm … what?
Precisely how they can chase this rabbit endlessly down whatever hole it runs is their ability to tune.
Tuning – as best as I’ve settled on the concept as presented – is the Strangers’ talent to reshape reality into whatever construct they desire. If they need a door, then they simply imagine one; and it appears. If they need a new building, then they use their psychic abilities to bend and twist existing matter into this new edifice. While the process is demonstrated once or twice in the film, there’s still so very little information provided that, essentially, I pretty much mark it down as ‘the movie’s required magic,’ the kind of storytelling trickery that does anything whenever and wherever the script necessitates. Though we’re shown it has limitations (i.e. their machinery can manufacture whatever is needed from small objects to massive skyscrapers, but it requires individual Strangers to physically step into the City and position people and their possessions along with memory injections to accomplish these existential rewrites), the true extent of ‘tuning’ – much less its origins or its evolution from their species to Murdoch – is never quite clarified. Indeed, once Murdoch is brought into the realm of the The Strangers, he’s suddenly found telekinesis on the menu; and he puts this new gift to great use in deconstructing their world more vividly than they ever did his.
Because Proyas and his skilled technicians render this so spectacularly, I think most folks simply overlook the fact (via these cinematic distractions) that none of it really makes sense happening physically. Sure, when it’s pretty, why stop and ask how it works? Indeed, 1999’s The Matrix – a picture that many compare endlessly to Dark City – opted to do the same thing within consciousness instead of the real world, making the task much simpler and understandable. There, human participants were all linked into a hive-mind existence; and they could similarly interact with one another whilst still being observed or monitored by the aliens who were using their human bodies for the bio-electricity they provided while contained with ‘the Matrix.’ Likewise, Neo (played by Keanu Reeves) and the rebels found ways around their overlords’ control, much in the same way Murdoch ‘discovers’ this latest skill within himself. Still, using this same concept of reshaping reality but in the physical world truly required that Proyas do a bit more (in my opinion), and the picture scores poorly in that respect.
Additionally, Neo rose to the challenge of defying the conventions of his world with the goal of saving all of what remained of humanity from enslavement. Drawing that parallel to Murdoch’s task kinda/sorta comes up significantly short because, instead, he chooses to keep those still living within the prison of our aggressor’s construction. Yes, he’s torn down a wall or two. Yes, he’s turned up the lights. Yes, he’s obviously eliminated the invasion tinkering of the overlords even though we were never really shown such incessant tampering as producing ill effects on them. But it’s still a prison … no? The only significant difference – so far as this simple mind can determine – is that he’s become the warden. While it’s suggested that he’s restoring free will to survivors near and far (at least, that is what I take the metaphor of his Shell Beach destination to stand for), a case could be made that they already had free will to a small degree within their thematic incarceration. All that was truly lost was their respective ever-changing identities: choice never seemed to be in short supply.
For me, I still see the prison at the end of Dark City, a symbol that functionally not all that much is changed despite the revolution one man waged almost entirely on his own. For all intents and purposes, humanity remains well within the cage. We’re reminded of it even in those closing scenes wherein the alien station is depicted as a kinda/sorta island floating in space. Beyond those walls, no man can travel. Proyas showed us that with Bumstead’s floating body. Doesn’t this imply that even individuality has limitations? Doesn’t this mean that Murdoch really only let folks out of one prison so that they could endure another? Isn’t a cage always a cage, no matter who holds the keys to unlock the door?
Additionally, Neo rose to the challenge of defying the conventions of his world with the goal of saving all of what remained of humanity from enslavement. Drawing that parallel to Murdoch’s task kinda/sorta comes up significantly short because, instead, he chooses to keep those still living within the prison of our aggressor’s construction. Yes, he’s torn down a wall or two. Yes, he’s turned up the lights. Yes, he’s obviously eliminated the invasion tinkering of the overlords even though we were never really shown such incessant tampering as producing ill effects on them. But it’s still a prison … no? The only significant difference – so far as this simple mind can determine – is that he’s become the warden. While it’s suggested that he’s restoring free will to survivors near and far (at least, that is what I take the metaphor of his Shell Beach destination to stand for), a case could be made that they already had free will to a small degree within their thematic incarceration. All that was truly lost was their respective ever-changing identities: choice never seemed to be in short supply.
For me, I still see the prison at the end of Dark City, a symbol that functionally not all that much is changed despite the revolution one man waged almost entirely on his own. For all intents and purposes, humanity remains well within the cage. We’re reminded of it even in those closing scenes wherein the alien station is depicted as a kinda/sorta island floating in space. Beyond those walls, no man can travel. Proyas showed us that with Bumstead’s floating body. Doesn’t this imply that even individuality has limitations? Doesn’t this mean that Murdoch really only let folks out of one prison so that they could endure another? Isn’t a cage always a cage, no matter who holds the keys to unlock the door?
Because Dark City ends with the questions beginning, this is why I think it’s still arguably one of the better genre films to emerge from the late 1990’s. As imperfect as I see its message, it’s exactly the kind of feature that prompts alert viewers to evaluate it as a work of art, ponder the mysteries of existence, and wonder how all of the pieces of their own universe could inevitably fit together. At least, it’s smart enough to know where to leave them: where I disagree with most is that I still feel I deserved to know a bit more about it.
Dark City (1998) was produced by New Line Cinema, Time Warner, Mystery Clock Cinema, and Alex Proyas. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … just wow. Seriously, it ought to be a crime for a picture to look and sound as good as this one does. It’s fabulous throughout. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I said above, Arrow never disappoints, and this two-disc assortment has multiple commentary tracks along with a heady assortment of behind-the-scenes extras that cineastes love to spend time with. “Impressive” doesn’t even begin to describe this collection.
Strongly Recommended.
Look: just because I sound like I’m disappointed in a film doesn’t necessarily mean that I dislike it, and nothing could be further from the truth as it applies to Dark City. Proyas and his obviously talented cast and crew did a masterful job delivering something worth watching not once, not twice, not thrice, but over and over and over again even if one ultimately winds up going absolutely nowhere in the process. John Murdoch’s awakening happens with so little explanation – as does any attempt within the film to rationally explain how any of this world-building, world-shifting, and world-tuning is possible – that I’m just poorly invested in it. What does work? Well, damn near everything! The production details, the performances, the twists, the turns, the pacing! Everything! It’s just that centrally and critically flawed premise that will forever bug the crap out of me; and it’s a sentiment I’ve never been able to overcome. Still … it’s a solid thumbs up … a feature that deserves to be embraced with all of its storytelling flaws.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Dark City (1998) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Dark City (1998) was produced by New Line Cinema, Time Warner, Mystery Clock Cinema, and Alex Proyas. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … just wow. Seriously, it ought to be a crime for a picture to look and sound as good as this one does. It’s fabulous throughout. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I said above, Arrow never disappoints, and this two-disc assortment has multiple commentary tracks along with a heady assortment of behind-the-scenes extras that cineastes love to spend time with. “Impressive” doesn’t even begin to describe this collection.
Strongly Recommended.
Look: just because I sound like I’m disappointed in a film doesn’t necessarily mean that I dislike it, and nothing could be further from the truth as it applies to Dark City. Proyas and his obviously talented cast and crew did a masterful job delivering something worth watching not once, not twice, not thrice, but over and over and over again even if one ultimately winds up going absolutely nowhere in the process. John Murdoch’s awakening happens with so little explanation – as does any attempt within the film to rationally explain how any of this world-building, world-shifting, and world-tuning is possible – that I’m just poorly invested in it. What does work? Well, damn near everything! The production details, the performances, the twists, the turns, the pacing! Everything! It’s just that centrally and critically flawed premise that will forever bug the crap out of me; and it’s a sentiment I’ve never been able to overcome. Still … it’s a solid thumbs up … a feature that deserves to be embraced with all of its storytelling flaws.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Dark City (1998) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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