Written by: Kevin Berge
Can you tell there's a dominant primary color motif going on here? (Image Courtesy of: vulture.com)
Quick Take: Nocturnal Animals weaves together three stories with a deft and creative hand that showcases the unique vision of Tom Ford. While that vision can get occasionally bogged down, the performances of Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson are consistently what keeps this engaging.
***This review focuses on many story elements of Nocturnal Animals and will include spoilers. Those who have not seen the movie and plan to should not read past this point until they have seen the film.***
It's easy to tell that Nocturnal Animals is not a movie made by a traditional film director. I mean this in the best way possible. It's created differently than movies are "meant" to be. This is an experimental blend, showcasing the opportunity cinema can provide.
Moreover, this is a movie about art, built on the back of artistic vision. Many of its pieces feel more at home in an art museum than a movie. This is because Tom Ford (A Single Man) did not begin as a director but rather a fashion designer. He approaches film from an artistic perspective.
I don't mean to hold up this film as some higher form of art than its contemporaries but rather is an interesting fresh perspective. When I heard this movie was a neo-noir thriller starring Amy Adams (Arrival) and Jake Gyllenhaal (Prisoners), I never realized how far off my assumption of the movie would be.
Nocturnal Animals is a story from the perspective of Susan Morrow (Amy Adams), an art gallery designer, who is sent a novel by her writer ex-husband Edward Sheffield (Jake Gyllenhaal) that focuses on a crime committed against Tony Hastings (also Gyllenhaal) by three men with the ring leader Ray Marcus (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and the help he gets from corrupt detective Bobby Andes (Michael Shannon).
This is a story about stories, an art piece about art, made by an artist with a whole film canvas to explore. It's a fascinating hodgepodge of elements that is at times perfect though often a bit cluttered. However, at its core, it is simply alluring because it is a web of stories and mysteries that are not easily dissected.
Based on Austin Wright's novel Tony and Susan, each piece of this web has a purpose, and they all come in and out through the hazy conscious of Susan. The story within a story of the inspiring book is the driving force of this movie, telling a thriller that could have been its own tale and been an intense ride.
However, those scenes are juxtaposed and also paralleled by reflections of the past as Susan remembers her doomed relationship with Edward. The connection between the two takes a while to see clearly as they become so interwoven in the telling that it only heightens their incongruity. All the connections though make sense on reflection.
It's easy to tell that Nocturnal Animals is not a movie made by a traditional film director. I mean this in the best way possible. It's created differently than movies are "meant" to be. This is an experimental blend, showcasing the opportunity cinema can provide.
Moreover, this is a movie about art, built on the back of artistic vision. Many of its pieces feel more at home in an art museum than a movie. This is because Tom Ford (A Single Man) did not begin as a director but rather a fashion designer. He approaches film from an artistic perspective.
I don't mean to hold up this film as some higher form of art than its contemporaries but rather is an interesting fresh perspective. When I heard this movie was a neo-noir thriller starring Amy Adams (Arrival) and Jake Gyllenhaal (Prisoners), I never realized how far off my assumption of the movie would be.
Nocturnal Animals is a story from the perspective of Susan Morrow (Amy Adams), an art gallery designer, who is sent a novel by her writer ex-husband Edward Sheffield (Jake Gyllenhaal) that focuses on a crime committed against Tony Hastings (also Gyllenhaal) by three men with the ring leader Ray Marcus (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and the help he gets from corrupt detective Bobby Andes (Michael Shannon).
This is a story about stories, an art piece about art, made by an artist with a whole film canvas to explore. It's a fascinating hodgepodge of elements that is at times perfect though often a bit cluttered. However, at its core, it is simply alluring because it is a web of stories and mysteries that are not easily dissected.
Based on Austin Wright's novel Tony and Susan, each piece of this web has a purpose, and they all come in and out through the hazy conscious of Susan. The story within a story of the inspiring book is the driving force of this movie, telling a thriller that could have been its own tale and been an intense ride.
However, those scenes are juxtaposed and also paralleled by reflections of the past as Susan remembers her doomed relationship with Edward. The connection between the two takes a while to see clearly as they become so interwoven in the telling that it only heightens their incongruity. All the connections though make sense on reflection.
I can't help not get emotional when Jake Gyllenhaal is so downtrodden. He's just got those puppy dog eyes. (Image Courtesy of: hollywoodreporter.com)
I had a thought while watching this film that stuck with me after I finished, nearly making sense. The idea I couldn't get out of my head was that Edward does not exist. While Gyllenhaal plays a character in both the flashbacks and the story, he never appears in the current timeline.
This makes Edward a ghost, reinforced by him not appearing at the end of the film. While the actual idea is silly, the thought has merit because it reinforces Edward's role in this story. No one in Susan's current life knows about Edward or at least they've forgotten him. She's let them ignore or forget he ever was integral to her life.
He has to be forgotten because he represents something that is only fully clear in the closing moments of the movie: true love. Susan has abandoned any chance of true love by pushing Edward out of her life, and this book represents the promise he had, the reason she should have believed in him.
When she finishes it, she realizes she wants to see him, to reconnect, to forget the mistake that took him out of her life. He does not let her forget. He lets her stew over the fact that she was so fickle. The moment he manages to write something that affects her, she is ready to return to him, but she couldn't stick out the hard times.
Now, she is trapped in the life she leads, a vicious world of empty ambition. Repeatedly, she denounces her life, and the book she is reading only reinforces it. She sees true passionate creativity that has a driving story of love and heartbreak, and it reminds her that the life she leads is not the one she ever really wanted.
Tony is Edward (as he himself admits he always puts himself in his stories). He is a man who lost everything because he was helpless to do anything. He let other forces take his daughter and wife away, let criminals rape and kill them. All he could do was seek justice, and it was half-hearted at that, leading him ultimately to die to his own gun alone.
Edward does not want to live this life either, but it's inevitable. He's already gone. Giving Susan the book, to stew over and feel every agonizing moment pang in her head as nagging guilt, only proves his point. She can't come back to him now, and he can't take her back.
This makes Edward a ghost, reinforced by him not appearing at the end of the film. While the actual idea is silly, the thought has merit because it reinforces Edward's role in this story. No one in Susan's current life knows about Edward or at least they've forgotten him. She's let them ignore or forget he ever was integral to her life.
He has to be forgotten because he represents something that is only fully clear in the closing moments of the movie: true love. Susan has abandoned any chance of true love by pushing Edward out of her life, and this book represents the promise he had, the reason she should have believed in him.
When she finishes it, she realizes she wants to see him, to reconnect, to forget the mistake that took him out of her life. He does not let her forget. He lets her stew over the fact that she was so fickle. The moment he manages to write something that affects her, she is ready to return to him, but she couldn't stick out the hard times.
Now, she is trapped in the life she leads, a vicious world of empty ambition. Repeatedly, she denounces her life, and the book she is reading only reinforces it. She sees true passionate creativity that has a driving story of love and heartbreak, and it reminds her that the life she leads is not the one she ever really wanted.
Tony is Edward (as he himself admits he always puts himself in his stories). He is a man who lost everything because he was helpless to do anything. He let other forces take his daughter and wife away, let criminals rape and kill them. All he could do was seek justice, and it was half-hearted at that, leading him ultimately to die to his own gun alone.
Edward does not want to live this life either, but it's inevitable. He's already gone. Giving Susan the book, to stew over and feel every agonizing moment pang in her head as nagging guilt, only proves his point. She can't come back to him now, and he can't take her back.
I wouldn't even trust my least favorite childhood toy with this man. (Image Courtesy of: lecinemadreams.blogspot.com)
At least, that is my interpretation of the film, but it hardly feels like explaining its meaning. This is a film about themes rather than a film with themes, directly with a surreal and beautiful edge that makes every moment feel off because the viewer is inside Susan's irreparably damaged psyche.
While the artistic aspect is certainly a highlight though, Ford's best work as a director may be to bring out the best in his actors. This film is a four-actor show despite each one stealing scenes throughout. Amy Adams wins out though barely due to the difficulty of her role, a subtle emotional ride with a camera that focuses on her every expression.
Jake Gyllenhaal has the most flashy role just because he has two distinct parts to play, one as the sweet Edward and one as the emotionally breaking Tony, and both are played well. In the novel's story though, he is overshadowed by Michael Shannon's (Take Shelter) gritty and matter-of-fact performance as well as the disturbingly entertaining turn from Aaron Taylor-Johnson (Kick-Ass).
While the movie engaged me emotionally and psychologically to the level that I could forgive its more glaring issues, there are certainly problems with the film. Most notably, this is a mess of emotional sensory details. It tries so hard to be catchy and push the viewer that it can be distracting.
The opening credits are glaringly off-tone from the rest of the film and come off as simply controversial for the sake of being controversial. There's even a random jump scare that is hardly paid off nor revisited to reinforce its meaning.
At times, Ford (who also wrote the film) simply seems to be putting everything on the canvas that comes to his mind. This does not hurt the film's overall and impressive narrative ambiance, but it does make an already jarring movie unnecessarily off-kilter in ways that could have been better explored.
Even if Nocturnal Animals surprised me from the outset, I knew early on that I would love the film. It has an air of creativity and intelligence that makes it different from most other movies. Even the way it echoes off other great cinema helps it stand in good company.
While the artistic aspect is certainly a highlight though, Ford's best work as a director may be to bring out the best in his actors. This film is a four-actor show despite each one stealing scenes throughout. Amy Adams wins out though barely due to the difficulty of her role, a subtle emotional ride with a camera that focuses on her every expression.
Jake Gyllenhaal has the most flashy role just because he has two distinct parts to play, one as the sweet Edward and one as the emotionally breaking Tony, and both are played well. In the novel's story though, he is overshadowed by Michael Shannon's (Take Shelter) gritty and matter-of-fact performance as well as the disturbingly entertaining turn from Aaron Taylor-Johnson (Kick-Ass).
While the movie engaged me emotionally and psychologically to the level that I could forgive its more glaring issues, there are certainly problems with the film. Most notably, this is a mess of emotional sensory details. It tries so hard to be catchy and push the viewer that it can be distracting.
The opening credits are glaringly off-tone from the rest of the film and come off as simply controversial for the sake of being controversial. There's even a random jump scare that is hardly paid off nor revisited to reinforce its meaning.
At times, Ford (who also wrote the film) simply seems to be putting everything on the canvas that comes to his mind. This does not hurt the film's overall and impressive narrative ambiance, but it does make an already jarring movie unnecessarily off-kilter in ways that could have been better explored.
Even if Nocturnal Animals surprised me from the outset, I knew early on that I would love the film. It has an air of creativity and intelligence that makes it different from most other movies. Even the way it echoes off other great cinema helps it stand in good company.