Since my last posting on the subject of the "for your consideration" screeners, I have watched two more, so here goes...
Downsizing is the most ridiculous, pointless, and just plain unnecessary film I have seen since the smart-sharks epic, Deep Blue Sea. The premise is silly, the execution is full of contradictions, and the message is so muddled that you can take the film to mean just about anything you want. I won't go into much detail about it, but suffice it to say that the film comes down to a group of five-inch-tall people sailing up a fjord in Norway to join an apocalyptic hippie survivalist cult. If nothing else, Downsizing is a warning shot across the bow of those inclined to take the sustainability craze much too seriously.
I find that I cannot help now (just as while watching the film) pointing out a few of the dozens of contradictions in the story-telling, which involves people voluntarily allowing themselves to be reduced in body size to middle-finger proportions in order to save the planet. For example: If they cannot shrink wedding rings and false teeth, how did they manage to miniaturize TV cameras and construction equipment? If the biospheres in which these action figures live are necessary to their survival, how can there be a tunnel which leads out to the slums? We are told that in the mini-colony there is zero crime; but any time you have desperately poor people living next to very wealthy people, there is bound to be crime. Why and how did those slum dwellers manage the cost of the shrinking process only to live under exactly the same ghetto-ized conditions as when they were full-size? The shrunken yacht on which our heroes travel the fjord leaves a full-sized wake even though it cannot be more than three feet long. And how in God's name did a bunch of five-inch hippies manage to dig an eleven-kilometer-long tunnel and a subterranean biosphere complete with artificial sunlight and sheep? I could go on, but you get the point.
The only thing that makes this nonsense watchable is the performance by Hong Chau, which is wonderful. Though she plays a one-legged Vietnamese dissident who is the lone survivor of refugees smuggled into the U.S. inside a television box (I'm not making this up), she manages to create an entertaining, fully-realized, and moving character. Her soliloquy on the eight kinds of lovemaking is a real gem embedded in this silliness. As the for the film's message, well, as I said, if you can make it to the end, your guess is as good as mine. With Downsizing, Matt Damon and his Hollywood confreres have gone way too far in their quest to turn us all into miniature lefties; yet they have done us the service of making it clear that they have no idea what they want, what they mean, or what they are talking about. And for that service I suppose we should be grateful.
Now, if there is a film that represents the exact opposite of Downsizing, it is The Florida Project. I knew nothing about it except that Willem Dafoe was getting very good reviews for his performance. On the strength of that I took the time to watch it, and I soon found that there is much more to the film than his brilliant work.
Though the language is off-putting, especially in the mouths of children, it is worth sticking with the film because of its wonderful performances, especially by the children, and its deeply moving and meaningful messages. The world of the strip mall Orlando motels which the children inhabit in poignant counterpoint Disney World, in the shadow of which they live, is its own sort of magic kingdom seen through their eyes. The director, Sean Baker, very skillfully draws us into their fantasy white-trash sub-culture, and despite their crude, foul-mouthed personas, we find ourselves identifying deeply with them. How he got those performances out of those children is in itself a wonder.
The cast, mostly non-professionals, is excellent, especially the two friends-turned-enemies mothers, and I must say that, though Willem Dafoe's part as the purple motel's manager is rather limited, it is one of his strongest performances. Seeming to improvise much of his dialogue, he infuses his character with such nuance and simple humanity that we come to see him as the benevolent gatekeeper of the magic castle and protector of the children. It is a truly virtuoso performance by one of our best actors.
What the film tells us is as complex and troubling as the story itself. There are people who live this way in our country, it reminds us; people who, though crass, irresponsible, and broken are nonetheless capable of a crude dignity and love. That the main character, six-year-old Moonee, is truly loved by her drug-using, welfare-cheating, tattooed whore of a mother is undeniable. But the most revealing and touching moment comes at the end, when the vividly fantasist Moonee breaks down into toddler tears, revealing the delicate yet indestructible childhood underneath her potty-mouthed adult persona.
The Florida Project may be difficult to take, but the result, in both film-making achievement and social messaging, makes it well worthwhile. I cannot say that I enjoyed the film, given its raw depiction of children at risk, but I certainly admired it for its artistry and honesty.
