The Double

Amid the macho-heavy superhero love fest that is 2014, it is refreshing to see some introversion hanging out in the shadows. Just as summer careened around the corner, I had the chance to see Richard Ayaode’s new film, The Double.  I already had high expectations after viewing his 2010 debut, Submarine, but The Double solidified my fascination with Ayoade’s style.

                Submarine sets the bar high with kinetic editing, starkly poetic visuals and likeable-but-kind-of-annoying characters. Oliver Tate’s struggle to divide idealism from the reality of adolescence avoids falling into the worn-out mold of mindless sex-driven coming-of-age films by actually being clever and self-aware.

That said, Ayoade swerves in the opposite direction with The Double, structuring much of his dystopian nightmare around caricatures – cogs in a machine meant to drive  Simon James (Jesse Eisenberg) further into madness. Ayoade abandons Oliver Tate’s family drama and teenagers for suffocating interiors, deep shadows and a muted color palette. And then punctuates it all with Andrew Hewitt’s strung out soundtrack. Yeah, Ayoade abandons character depth, but he makes up for it with tonality.

Ayoade retains his highly stylized visuals, plucking visual cues from Lynch and Gilliam. Jesse Eisenberg’s face is constantly buried in the shadows of its own bony features and the world is set in perpetual darkness. Not one scene takes place during the day. The technology is blippy and archaic by 2014 standards, somewhat resembling the bulky computers of the 80s or classic telephones. There are scenes that take place in a train, but Ayoade shoots so tightly that it feels as if they’re riding to nowhere – just getting on and off at the same building.

It is rare to see dark, inward-facing science fiction in today’s bombardment of explosions, destruction porn and comic books. That is not to say the movie is a complete downer. Ayoade plays the humor with a straight face.  It’s dry but it is there. (Particularly in the form of absurd VHS-tinged television shows. EVEN MORE absurd than what’s happening in the movie.)  And it does fall into some complex thematic territory, especially as the film closes, but if you need a breather after blockbuster fever I recommend Richard Ayoade’s The Double.

The Movie Lover’s Movie

I’m thinking of a scene in Ghostbusters:  Mos Def plays Peter Venkman and Jack Black plays everyone else. Some ghosts haunt a library and they go to investigate. Books float, cards shoot out of their drawers and Mos Def is slimed. No, this isn’t Ghostbusters 3. It happens to be a “sweded” version of the original Ghostbusters. In Michel Gondry’s Be Kind Rewind, buffoons Mike and Jerry (Played by Mos Def and Black respectively) manage to erase the entire VHS collection of Mr. Fletcher’s (Danny Glover) video rental store. Before he returns they decide to remake all the movies equipped with only a VHS camera and Michel Gondry’s whimsy. Be Kind Rewind is a love letter to classic Hollywood filmmaking. It celebrates the magnetism of movies and their ability to draw people and their imaginations together.

In a typical Gondry flourish, the camera transports us through a series of sweded classics such as King Kong, 2001: A Space Odyssey and Men in Black in one Rube Goldberg-esque take. None of their versions resemble the original in any way. That’s OK though because Gondry was careful to choose iconic scenes that trigger the nostalgia neurons.

It is only a matter of time before modern Hollywood rears its capitalist head. (Played by Sigourney Weaver.) And after some legal jargon and hollow empathy, she flattens our nostalgia trip. The business forgets that cinema is more than just making a quick buck. It’s about inventing a 3D space and framing it in such a way that it is appealing or mysterious. It’s about the actor and the director working harmoniously. The amount of light you capture. Happy accidents. And the audience. None of these elements are lost like tears in rain. They are encapsulated in our culture – immortalized – and passed on through the generations. That’s the draw of this film. That cinematic nostalgia serves as an anchor to the film’s “tradition vs. modernism” themes.

Proof of this is apparent in the third act when Mike and Jerry decide to fire back at Hollywood with their own original movie. This time, the entire Passaic community is part of the film production. They choose to make a imaginative documentary about Fats Waller, a famous Jazz pianist who is a source of pride. Gondry turns cinema into literal nostalgia. It’s a movie lover’s movie.