Limitless is part action, part geeky—too introspective to really belong in the first category, but too frenetic and fast-paced for the latter. The fourth movie to be directed by relative unknown Neil Burger, it has some rough edges—although, on the whole, I was positively impressed.
Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper) is both protagonist and first-person narrator, and the sequence of the movie follows closely the personal details of his sometimes vivid, often hazy, and occasionally schizophrenic life. The story opens some twenty stories high, with Eddie poised on the edge of a rooftop, his toes hanging over the brink—but instead of the cinematic freefall I expected, the film kept me continually on edge.
The crux of the tale is thus: never-do-well Eddie comes across a super-drug, NZT-48, which unlocks the unused potential of his brain, allowing him to learn new skills, put details together in unimagined ways, and maintain a surge in creativity. But like all drugs, it has side effects—and this particular one includes relentless thugs and Russian mafia who won’t hesitate to kill to get the pills. Eddie suddenly is confronted by the temptations and threats of limitless achievement, imminent self-destruction, determined enemies, and a limited stock of NZT-48.
The camera-work was phenomenal. A signature effect was the mile-long zoom down city streets, through windows and cars, in and out of crowds, beyond mirrors. When Eddie first took the NZT-48, everything became crisp and clear, shadows faded away, light spread. Colors melded, melted, blurred and blazed. His view of his surroundings expanded like the widening lens of a camera, obscure details reorganizing into useful patterns and prompts—and pictures skipped crazily as hours disappeared in seconds. The visual effects alone are worth seeing.
Cooper is an able and enjoyable actor. From the unkempt man on the street to the almost superhuman Wall Street consultant, he always appeared comfortable in his role(s), yet never lost his unique style. The supporting actors also fit excellently: as Eddie’s on-again-off-again girlfriend (Abbie Cornish), as the sharp investment broker (Robert De Niro), as the accented mafioso who rued his minced vocabulary (Andrew Howard). While these secondary characters were somewhat one-sided and incompletely developed, they were also human and feeling.
The movie’s score was largely trash, too often harsh and strident, psychedelic trance composed of electronic drum machines and an eternally recurrent refrain—which harmonized with the narcomanic nature of the movie’s theme, but earned no place in my off-screen playlist. It didn’t jar; it just didn’t impress.
Brief flashes of disturbing material complicated my general liking for the movie: a series of fleetingly passionate sexual encounters; a couple shots of disarmed hands hacked off their owners; PG-13’s one escalation of vulgarity in a verbal confrontation; and one disgusting yet hypnotic scene where a man struggles to lap from a drug-rich pool of blood as it horribly spreads its perimeters. In any case, these segments were emphasized more by their scarcity than their abundance.
While the plot showed numerous incoherencies, all were scruples; none detracted from my viewing. The story was at times predictable and unexpected; controversial and tame; hackneyed and original; maddening and mentally provocative. It was strange, but not too strange; striking, but not staggering. With reservations, I couldn’t help but like it.
Maybe most unnerving was its elevation of the highs of the central substance; I felt an uncomfortable tension between the allure of NZT’s potential and the poison of its sting. In the upside-down world of the drug, Eddie’s aspiring spirals sometimes seemed like tailspins. If the movie was making some broad statement about narcotics, its interpretation is limitless.
No comments:
Post a Comment