(This piece was originally published on Chud.com)
I don’t know how to do a spoiler warning for this, so while I
will be as vague with plot specifics as possible, I will be talking
about a certain type of ending. Just naming the films will give away
something about them. I’ll try to stick to general statements about
well-known movies, but I will also be specifically spoiling the ends of The Descent and Brazil, so fair warning.
The most important part of a story is the ending. A great one can
elevate a good movie to classic status, whereas a bad one can render
that same good movie completely forgettable. One of my favorite endings
is Brazil’s, which features an elaborate fantasy sequence that takes place entirely in the protagonist’s mind. Another recent one is Inception,
whose final sequence is designed to raise the question of whether it is
all taking place in the protagonist’s mind. These are powerful,
provocative endings to visionary pieces of cinema, which cemented their
respective places in the film canon for decades to come.
Still, if the end of your movie takes place or even suggests that it
takes place in the protagonist’s mind, it would probably be improved by
just cutting that shit out.
In the last few years I've noticed “it’s all in the protagonist’s mind” becoming
an increasingly popular interpretation of any ending that is slightly
ambiguous, or unexpectedly upbeat. And while everyone is entitled to
their own take on a movie, I find that for most of them this only
lessens the impact of the ending and makes the whole endeavor feel
slighter and less imaginative. As far as “twists” go, this is about the
cheapest one there is, and rather than introducing ambiguity, it can all
too easily make it feel like the film simply lacks the courage of its
convictions. This is why I don’t like the fantasy take on the ending of Taxi Driver or its pseudo-remake Observe and Report, and why playing up the ambiguity at the end of the film version of American Psycho
actually makes its satire less pointed*. If you want to present the
audience with the idea that the world is fucked up enough that these
protagonists could thrive in it, then present the world as actually that fucked
up. Don’t raise the possibility and then pull the punch by suggesting
that maybe it isn’t, really.
The movie that specifically inspired these thoughts was The Descent,
a very good horror movie that peaks well before it ends. Its most
controversial aspect is the ending, or rather endings. In the American
version, our heroine escapes from her underground ordeal and, well, is
probably still pretty ruined from the experience, but also going to live
for the immediate future. The original/international ending has this
escape revealed to be a hysterical fantasy on her part, and she remains
stuck underground and horribly doomed when the credits roll. Most horror
fans think the original ending is clearly superior and the American
ending is a cop-out attempt at salvaging a happy ending (which, in
fairness, is exactly what it is). But I’m one of the few who thinks it is superior, even
if it exists for the wrong reasons. It might be a chickenshit move
compared to the original, but I don’t like it when a movie has a twist
that amounts to yelling “psych!”
The problem with ending a movie like The Descent with a fantasy sequence is that it was not a movie about hysterical fantasies until one turned up in the waning moments. Brazil’s
ending plays out almost exactly the same, but it also opens on a
fantasy sequence, and was about how that was Sam’s only respite from the
oppressive bureaucracy that rules his life. Inception is
all about the ability of fiction** to provide real catharsis, so while
it ends by questioning the reality of the final scene, it is
simultaneously stating that the answer doesn’t matter. When a film
is about the power of fantasy from the very first frame, ending with a
fantasy sequence can be the only fitting way to go.
The Descent does not have these thematic concerns, so its
ending functions only as a twist. And the fantasy sequence is a terribly
lazy one. The Sixth Sense was a smash not just because
it surprised the audience, but because it did so by manipulating their
assumptions without resorting to showing them things that were later
revealed not to be true. Any movie can surprise me by lying to me, which
is what a fantasy sequence does (and why I’ve never been a huge fan of The Usual Suspects). I’m impressed when a movie surprises me with something I should have
already known, not when one surprises me by showing me that it
previously showed me something that wasn’t “true”. It’s not as if I
don’t know that movies aren’t real in the first place, so when a movie
shows me something and I “believe” it, I don’t exactly feel stupid when
it’s later revealed that it wasn’t “real”. And I want to feel stupid
that I didn’t see a twist coming. I want to be made to see an angle I
had previously ignored, not to realize that I had overestimated the
level on which the storyteller was communicating with me. It’s the
difference between a really good, well-crafted joke, one that makes you
see things from a slightly different angle, and “guess what? Chicken
butt!”
That movies are all elaborate lies is something any 10 year-old
understands. But we choose to believe them for an hour or two. We’re
buying into the Big Lie up front. My feeling is that if, as a filmmaker,
you can’t tell the Lie without also “lying” to me, you’re probably
doing it wrong.
*I like all these movies, btw, it’s just that I think they are
striking for being difficult and this interpretation only serves to make
them easier
**Sure, it calls them dreams, but given how minutely crafted and
rigidly rulebound they are, they bear little resemblance to what we
actually experience when we go to sleep
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