Cosmopolis

David Cronenberg has an illustrious film career dating back to 1966. He has produced, acted and directed, including the critically acclaimed Eastern Promises in 2007, and A History of Violence in 2005; he is also responsible for some lesser known (almost B-Movie) films like The Brood in 1979, Scanners in 1980 and the cult classic The Fly in 1986. His latest film Cosmopolis, based on the novel by Don DeLillo stars Robert Pattinson (of Twilight fame) as a wealthy businessman in New York City.

The specter of capitalism

The film follows Eric Packer (Pattinson) on a cross-city ride in his high-tech limousine. Along the way he has several encounters with his new wife (played by Sarah Gadon), his doctor, varied employees, and multiple sexual encounters (with women other than his wife). The film takes place almost entirely in his limousine as the presidential caravan, a celebrity funeral, and riots from an anti-capitalist movement delay his commute. The world outside the limousine evolves from the bustle of Wall Street, to slums, to a riot that feels eerily similar to the Occupy movement of 2011. The declining state of international currency is decimating Eric’s fortune, there is an assassination threat out upon him, and his prudish new bride should all be taking their psychological toll on our protagonist, but he remains cold, and robotic. Separated from the human condition and unsympathetic to the mankind that surrounds him. While the popular film magazine Sight & Sound listed Cosmopolis as the 8th best film of 2012, I struggle to find cause. The characters and environments are completely disconnected, and while this may be intentional, in some way to elicit a message about the 1%’s isolation from the common man, it made my viewing experience labored and uninteresting. Many of the conversations between the characters on screen are conveyed as extensive, pedantic essays. The monotone, sanitized deliveries make these interactions even more tedious.

“I don’t mind the noise, the important thing is that it’s there”

The possibility of underlying Occupy themes aside, because this may simply be my interpretation of the film, Cosmopolis is basically the story of a spoiled man-child going to get a haircut in his big expensive limo while trying to get laid. The end. The only interesting moments in the film are completely buried by a landslide of rambling verbosity that seems to never end. Cosmopolis was recommended to me by a friend, having carefully viewed the film, I now question our friendship. Despite receiving generally positive reviews from critics, the film was not able to make back over 30% of its production budget in box offices; this is even considering the mammoth drawing power of Pattinson, whose army of Twilight fans could fill several stadiums. Name recognition alone was not enough to fill theater seats during its original theatrical run in August of 2012, and as of this writing, the top discussions on IMDB relating to this film are how long most viewers lasted while trying to sit through it, and how many patrons left theaters during viewings.

“Talent is more erotic when it’s wasted”

While the direction, and cinematography are both excellent, the subject matter within the film is simply not captivating. Pattinson does his best impression of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, and quite well, honestly. His performance, and the performances of his costars were not repellant, particularly those of Paul Giamatti, Samantha Morton and Juliette Binoche. Visually, the interior of the limousine is striking, and the chaos surrounding Packer’s trip serves as a stark contrast to the muted microcosm of the vehicle. These tiny glimmers were simply not enough to bring me into the convoluted story, only to get me through to the end of the film. I was genuinely grateful when the credits appeared. Cosmopolis has completed its theatrical run in the United States and Canada, and was released to DVD and Blu-Ray on January 1st 2013. Most recently, Cosmopolis has been made available on Netflix, and Amazon Instant video services.