Babylon (Damien Chazelle, 2022)

It's been a good long while since I've seen a film that I didn't want to end. That a movie could elicit this reaction from me at a three hour and nine minute run time is even more impressive. Especially since I've seen a few films recently that I definitely wanted to end much sooner than they did.

As the name would suggest, Babylon is partially about excess and decadence. It's also about Hollywood and what it takes to make movies in that system and environment. It's concerned with the decadence, the churn of celebrity and what that means for the human beings who have dreams of being the ones to bring movie magic to our theaters, while being a proper act of movie magic. 

Five minutes into the film, we're dropped in the middle of a spectacle, a party in 1920's Hollywood. Not just any party, but a proper bacchanalian celebration of all things carnal. I've seen a number of reviews and criticisms of the film which suggest Babylon isn't nearly as decadent or as subversive or transgressive as Chazelle wants us to believe it is. These seem off the mark, because I don't think Chazelle was interested in the film being subversive or decadent. The film is interested in being proper spectacle, about people who are being decadent, and it delivers in this sense. It is a dizzying, intoxicating twenty minutes, among the most gorgeously shot and designed opening scenes we've had on film in decades. It swings between astonishingly gorgeous images, moments of a sense of threat, and humor in a way we've become trained to expect from a blockbuster action film. It's important to note as well, this is human spectacle. This is human beings doing things human beings have always done and will always do. There may be one element which is CG, but it subverts our expectations by not making anything in the scene about that thing. That's still not the subject of this spectacle, in the films perspective. Instead of throwing a bunch of CG at the audience, it ends up being about us watching the revelers react to this new element introduced to this spectacle, and how that's essentially cover for a more morally dubious act. It's always about human beings caught up in the spectacle, and what that means for them, and for us as spectators or voyeurs. 

The cinematography, the set design, the costume design, everything about it is outstanding. It's an extended scene that is proper movie magic. It engulfs the audience in the world, with the characters and turns it very quickly into a world which is impossible to look away from and listen to. It's interesting, it's fun, it's dangerous, it's revealing, it's about hopes and dreams. It's a scene encompassing all the things we often say we want movies to be. If it went any further, it would be too much to be able to take it in, but director Damien Chazelle and editor Tom Cross know exactly where the line is and don't step over it. It feels overwhelming as you're watching, but at the same time, it's never impossible to keep up with. It is proof that film can deliver proper spectacle, with the very old elements of human story, song, and dance. As much as I will always be a die hard genre fan, this exercise in creating a sumptuous, engaging, thrilling sequence is a step above what even most of my favorite genre films are even interested in trying to do. It is all those things, and it's also just about people doing what people have and always will do. We consider it decadent because of the setting, and the obvious wealth of that setting, but it's part of what human beings do, and they do it whether or not they're wealthy. Decadence of this variety is by no means confined to wealth, though the ready, easy accessibility can be. The difference between the wealthy and the rest of us, is how often we can engage in such decadent behavior, not that they are more willing. 

I've read a number of pieces criticizing Chazelle as if he thought his film is more decadent or more transgressive than it is, citing this scene most specifically. This is off the mark. It is decadent. It isn't particularly transgressive and it's not meant to be either. Part of the  spectacle here is in the filmmaking itself, because the behavior it's dealing with is very, very mundanely human, and that is part of the point. People fuck. People have kinks. People dance. People do drugs. They eat and drink to excess. They often do these in combination. These are not transgressive acts, and they're not meant to be. They are things we have been doing at every opportunity since we have had anything resembling civilization. It doesn't come without cost, as Chazelle makes clear, but it is an almost innocent variety of decadence, especially given what we see later in the film. 

I saw Babylon at an afternoon showing, on a day that must have been senior discount day, because I was the only person under sixty in the entire theater, not just my screening, the entire theater. A number of people in my screening were quite put off by a good deal of what we are shown in this opening sequence, and some of what follows. Had Chazelle gone for a truly transgressive, subversive variety of spectacle in the beginning of the film, there is no way Babylon would have been released in 3000 theaters, which is one of the things the film is addressing in its text. This was relatively tame, and there were still a number of groans, and muttering as it swung through this astounding piece of editing, cinematography and performance. Unless we assume any of this is "transgressive" by definition (which I don't) it's not clear how one perceives Babylon as trying to be, though it does comment on where some of this instinct has taken us, in combination with the repressive atmosphere we live in. Additionally, because of the existence of the internet, and what any ten year old can find at any time, it isn't possible for the movies to show us things which are going to shock us in the same way they did twenty or thirty years ago. What they can do, that the internet is almost entirely uninterested in, is present us with thoughtful perspectives on these subjects, that which is actually transgressive and what we do with them in the dominant cultural contexts and what repression does, which is part of what Babylon is attempting to do, and as far as I'm concerned, succeeding in at least encouraging some thoughtful reflection. 

The party isn't where the spectacle ends either. We move then to a pre-sound era "set" which is essentially a giant open space with a number of small sets built in it, and we whiz through all of this, following our characters, being introduced to others, being witness to an utter lunacy dedicated to the endeavor that is making movies. Chazelle turns the making of an action spectacle into a spectacle of  outright creative lunacy.  

As a whole, it's a deceptive film, because it's full of comedic moments, but with the slightest bit of consideration, it's also dealing smartly with some serious ideas about the cost of what it takes to create in this environment, and what it means for people to put themselves into the Hollywood machine. More often than not, it feels light, and even delivers some of this with comedic lines, but it's engaging with some substantial ideas. There's a kind of trick at work, using the kind of entertainment we as audiences go to the movies for, to engage us about what the cost of that entertainment is, beyond the constantly discussed budget and box office numbers, while not provoking our defenses as an excuse to immediately disengage from what it has to say.  

There's also a sly commentary about what happens to decadence and the decadent in a repressive environment. It's among the more mature and adult comments on this phenomenon that I may have ever seen a film make. It's dealing specifically with the consequences of the difference between an environment where everyone has the freedom to be decadent and when that freedom is restricted, because there are multiple classes of "other." It highlights the ancillary results of repression in a way that is kind of brilliant. 

Diego Calva is excellent as Manny Torres, who is set up to be the prime audience surrogate in the beginning. Part of the story of Babylon is what happens to Manny as he ascends the ladder of success in Hollywood. Calva is giving a deeply soulful performance, of someone who is so taken with the magic of the movies, he'll do whatever he has to in order to be part of creating something bigger than himself, putting something on celluloid that is going to last. He's great. 

That brings us to Margot Robbie. What is there to even say about Robbie's performance as starlet to superstar Nellie LaRoy? One of the regular comments around the state of film these days is that we don't have "Movie Stars" anymore. We don't have generation defining talents, faces, people who for a time are bigger than the movies themselves, in the way the likes Tom Cruise or George Clooney, Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock were in the 90's or Carey Grant and Humphrey Bogart were in their day. Honestly, I kind of hate this discussion, and Margot Robbie's performance in Babylon is why. What's changed is the environment around film, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. The audiences have changed. We see the entire thing differently, in part because we see things which were hidden before, which isn't inherently good or bad by itself. The how and why of us getting to see what we haven't before can be very bad though. What this discussion misses is that there are still people giving the kind of performances which are Big Movie Star quality. 

Margot Robbie is a supernova in this movie. To some degree, this is the design of the character, and how Chazelle wants the audience to see her. The argument could be made this is part of that movie magic, creating this outsized star quality as part of her character's journey. The only problem with that argument is that you still need someone who can make you believe that's who they are, and what they're capable of, and Margot Robbie burns everyone and everything else around her off the screen the very second she is expected to. She is volcanically talented and charismatic, and there isn't a single scene where she's not giving it everything. It's a courageous performance for someone at the level of status and cache she does have. It's a part no one would criticize someone at her level for turning down, because it is in some ways deeply unflattering, chaotic and filthy. We still have people who have what that Movie Star thing is, and Robbie is one, which is great for movies and great for film lovers. There was a time not that long ago when agents, producers, studio heads etc would have done everything possible to get someone like Robbie to not take a part like this. That we don't turn actors into untouchable icons in the way we used to is good for everyone. Instead, in part because the same kind of Movie Star machinery is dead, Margot Robbie can take whatever part she wants, and that is good for the art of film, and for audiences who get to see someone of this level of status and talent take a role like this. Give Margot her flowers for her work, and leave her alone in the rest of her life. 

I don't know if something is changing in the environment of film criticism or if maybe it's just me aging. I do know that there seems to be a kind of joylessness in response to film these days, and the response to Babylon is a good example. This isn't a perfect film, but realistically, there is no such thing as a perfect film. There's a part of me that wonders if prestige television is somewhat responsible. When we are often getting ten or thirteen episode television series which have ten to thirteen hours of time to tell a story in a way that is deeply intricate, detailed and complicated, and can be full of people who are recognizable stars, it's bound to make a two or three hour film feel or seem truncated. I would watch ten hours of Babylon, tomorrow. That's not what we got though. We got three hours of Babylon. Would I love to see two hours dedicated to specific elements of this time period that Babylon gives five or ten minutes? Absolutely. That's a different film though. 

Maybe the difference is ultimately just cynicism. Unless they've said or otherwise demonstrated in their other work that they don't deserve the benefit of the doubt, I tend to give it to artists and filmmakers. I don't assume the worst. If there's a choice between a thoughtful read on a film or story of any kind really, I tend to go with that assumption, in part because it's more interesting to me. I tend to assume that if someone has dedicated two or three years of their lives to creating a story, unless the contrary is blatantly obvious, I assume they intended the more thoughtful perspective. Even if they've stumbled into it, it's still more interesting, and at the end of the day, I do think that's part of what film criticism should be about. 

A fair amount of the criticism Babylon has received is about the ending. The summary of that criticism is that given the darkness which so much of the rest of the film deals with, it ends on an optimistic note it doesn't earn. That's not what I saw. What I saw was that a character who witnessed, and were themselves both victims of and perpetrators of that darkness, was still able to be swayed by the "magic" of the movies that is so much at the center of the films ideas. I see that as much more neutral than those who've levied this criticism, because of how purposefully the film deals with that darkness. I have a question about whether this is an act of self deception on the part of critics, who should know very well the human cost of the art of film being a machine for commerce and the adjacent machine that is celebrity. I can't help but ask if this response, believing the ending as its presented is meant to be more optimistic and hopeful than the rest of the film, comes across as a response to knowing all of this, and still dedicating their lives to making a living as part of that machine. It implicates those of us who do love film, aren't part of the Hollywood filmmaking machine, know these costs, and are still evangelizing for the beauty of the art form as its squeezed through and out of this system. I saw the ending as something more plaintive. Yes, the magic of the movies can still work on us, even when we know there is often a horrendous cost to the way this system works, and we should be asking ourselves something about that, maybe looking at it a little differently, a little more critically. In a way, this criticism is suggesting Babylon in its ending has failed to create that real, unassailable movie magic. Maybe that is part of the point, and what Babylon is asking is that we consider what it is we think of as movie magic, and that we demand it despite the cost. The more interesting read is that Babylon, as much a work of deep love for that movies and that magic, is suggesting maybe we should be more suspicious of it than we are. It reads to me as asking us to to consider how we can both know all of this, and still be so swayed by the illusions of the medium. It's not a comfortable question, and I don't think movie critics are any less likely to avoid uncomfortable questions than the rest of the public are. 

I can't conclude without mentioning the score. It is very obviously influenced and inspired by the kind of big band jazz sound of the roaring 20's, but it's also still modern. It doesn't come off as pastiche, and it is the driving heart of the film in a way that's unusual and adds to the depth of the experience. It's gorgeous in its own right. There is some breathtaking musicianship happening in the score. 

Needless to say, I enjoyed Babylon immensely, and there's a very high likelihood I'll see it again in theaters later this week, because it is a movie that should be seen in theaters. There are no superheroes, no giant awe striking action sequences and still, the combination of the beauty of the cinematography, the costumes, the sets and the sound make it something I wish I could see in theaters ten more times. This is an epic on a human scale and I worry we've lost the ability to recognize it.