In theory, it’s a great thing that writer/director Darren Aronofsky still finds funding for his batshit psychodramas; in reality, they tend to wear out their welcome well before the credits roll. Here, an unnamed young woman (Jennifer Lawrence) lives in a remote house with her husband, a celebrated but creatively-blocked poet (Javier Bardem), where their peaceful existence is interrupted by a doctor (Ed Harris) beginning a series of increasingly unwelcome guests. Aronofsky puts his trippy visual style to nice effect, and layers on a magnificent sound design heightening every tinkle of glass or bump in the night. But once it becomes clear that he’s aiming for Big Idea allegory—maybe continuing the Biblical themes he explored in
Noah, maybe poking at the inherent pitfalls of being in a relationship with a celebrity—the growing chaos becomes less mysterious than increasingly monotonous. It doesn’t help that Lawrence’s performance rarely strays beyond a one-note portrayal of anxiety and frustration, emphasizing that she’s not playing a character so much as a representation of an idea. The unsettling spectacle loses impact once you feel Aronofsky nudging you and saying, “Isn’t this crazy?”
By
Scott Renshaw