Babylon’s director should have known better and not let this movie fall into self indulgence
Movies about movies tend to do well around Oscar season, and no one knows that better than Damien Chazelle. While La La Land famously didn’t win Best Picture in 2017, it did win six Oscars out of fourteen nominations, including Best Director. In Babylon, he returns to Hollywood but looks through a different lens. Starting in 1927, the film follows the fortunes of various actors and society types at the height of the silent movie era, and their respective declines as The Talkies are introduced.
The wild, hedonistic parties are headed by Jack Conrad (Brad Pitt), one of the top box office draws in America, and infiltrated by newcomer Manny (Diego Calva). Trying to get into the movie business through odd jobs, he meets and falls for Nellie LaRoy (Margot Robbie), a party girl who blags her way into stardom. Soon, all three will witness the bleak reality that the party is moving on without them.
Babylon was a high profile flop in America. Just on its own merits, Babylon likely scared away audiences by being altogether too much. Before we see the main title, we’re shown elephants defecating, a golden shower, and oh so much cocaine. It’s an endless endorphin rush that never slows, though it certainly tires and the silly scenes become less shocking the more (and more) of them that we see. As the exhausting film runs to the end of its overlong three hour run time, the moments I’ve described prove to be just a taster of the shocking litany of events as all manner of fluids and violence are thrown (often literally) at the screen.
The commitment to revealing an intriguingly ugly side to Hollywood and showbiz culture is admirable, but it undermines every serious point the film tries to make. One elegant sequence where the principles are shown feeling uncomfortable at a fancy party is made ridiculous with the sight of Robbie projectile vomiting, Team America-style.
Aside from the unpleasantness, there are moments of real beauty in the Babylon madness. It’s clear Chazelle is infatuated with cinema and the joy it can bring. But the constant discussions of how his characters (and, in turn, himself) are served by a higher calling feels self-indulgent. One scene, where a gossip columnist (Jean Smart) talks about Conrad’s place in history, is cringingly self-congratulatory.
The cast give their all, though. As perhaps one of the last true Hollywood stars, Pitt knows his character intimately and provides some of the more meaningful moments. Robbie, much like her character, tries valiantly to add depth to the numerous weird things asked of her (did I mention the snake? She wrestles a snake). If there is a viewpoint in such a wayward film, Calva plays it admirably. He’s in love with the romance of the movies and despairs as it eats alive those he cares about. Judged against Chazelle’s previous work, Babylon lacks the edge of Whiplash, the heart of La La Land, and the focus of First Man. Such a well-versed student of cinema should know better than to fall into self-indulgence.
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