A refined, head-spinning, and thought-provoking sci-fi tale, The Congress has the anger of a bitter Hollywood satire and the untamed visuals of a Lucy-in-the-sky-with-diamonds land come to life. Though its sharp political stabs are thoroughly sophisticated, the film drifts from surefire, crafty mockery and turns into a laborious exercise in existential fluff. Faults aside, The Congress is, more frequently than not, an ingenious and often times thrillingly smart tinsel town commentary that raises timely questions regarding how technology is slowly affecting the world of entertainment.
The film begins in 2013, but it's not the 2013 that we remember. It is a jaw-droppingly futuristic society that has come so far in its technological discoveries that movie studios are now able to capture the likenesses of their actors and digitally place them in any project they want. If Universal wanted Marlene Dietrich to play a soccer mom, it could happen in a matter of seconds.
Contractually, Robin Wright (playing a heavily fictionalized version of herself) is with Miramount, a studio that is slowly losing money and transitioning into the 100% CGI era of filmmaking. Wright's agent, Al (Harvey Keitel), has made a deal with the head of the company (Danny Huston); Wright will give her persona to the studio, garnering them complete control of her career, giving them the ability to place her in any movie they please. In return, she will receive heavy compensation that will leave her well-off for the rest of her life.
Wright is disgusted by the idea. She loves acting. She loves shedding her skin and becoming someone else. The thought of retiring from acting and giving herself to the digital world brings her a great deal of pain. But she's desperate. In the past few years, she has been difficult to work with, and few, if any, directors are willing to offer her roles. Her son (Kodi Smitt-McPhee), has a beguiling condition that is leading to the gradual deterioration of his sight and vision. She hesitantly agrees, and takes up Miramax's offer.
The film then jumps 20 years into the future, with a computerized Wright starring in a successful action franchise while the real Wright cares for her ailing son. As her contract is soon to expire, she is invited to The Congress, a convention that takes place in a completely animated utopia.
Once The Congress transitions from live action to animation, it weakens. The visuals are certainly stunning, looking like Hayao Miyazaki and the Disney brand had a baby (and that baby took some acid before it came out of the womb). The first half-hour of trippy cartoonage is exciting, to say the least. The film is even more fun to look at than it was before, and, better yet, the story takes a turn into the sensational motifs of a political thriller. Not only has Hollywood become a fixture of technological advancement, but the Earth itself is turning fantasy into reality. In the 20 years since Wright's decision to put her artificial facsimile out on display for the world to see, scientists have invented a drug that gives an everyman the chance to become anyone they desire. If I wanted, I could turn myself into Humphrey Bogart, Cousin Itt, or a Golden Retriever. It eliminates the humanizing effects of ego. Then the film brings up the idea of an uprising (a sniper shoots an important political figure and rebels overtake The Congress convention), and you would expect things to become even more interesting than they would before.
Not quite. Ari Folman, the director of the hugely acclaimed Waltz with Bashir, halts the rising political excitement in favor of questions about our own humanity. The execution is successful, but it ultimately doesn't work very well alongside the satirical and subtly scathing tone of the first act. The film is a long two-hours (it should have been cut down by at least 20-minutes), and the tight storytelling disappointingly uncoils and becomes soft when it should have remained pointed.
I can't complain with full conviction, however, as The Congress is so original and so (sorry for the overused term) refreshing that its triumphs are multiplied. Wright, who has recently jump-started her career with the much adored House of Cards, is more luminous than ever. In all, it's an imperfect film, but it's potentially an important one. Last year, Transformers: Age of Extinction was one of the top-grossing movies, and that's a sad fact. A product of CGI and executives hungry for money, it hardly contained any craftsmanship and instead worked as an unoriginal cash cow. In theaters, The Congress made less than $500,000. Maybe audiences would rather watch explosions and mayhem than sit down and think. Maybe there is an unavoidable formula that works in blockbusters. But if we keep supporting piles of dung like Transformers, one can only hope that the horrors that overtake the planet in The Congress won't become reality. As far-fetched as that may be, the film is plenty persuasive.
Read more reviews at petersonreviews.com
The film begins in 2013, but it's not the 2013 that we remember. It is a jaw-droppingly futuristic society that has come so far in its technological discoveries that movie studios are now able to capture the likenesses of their actors and digitally place them in any project they want. If Universal wanted Marlene Dietrich to play a soccer mom, it could happen in a matter of seconds.
Contractually, Robin Wright (playing a heavily fictionalized version of herself) is with Miramount, a studio that is slowly losing money and transitioning into the 100% CGI era of filmmaking. Wright's agent, Al (Harvey Keitel), has made a deal with the head of the company (Danny Huston); Wright will give her persona to the studio, garnering them complete control of her career, giving them the ability to place her in any movie they please. In return, she will receive heavy compensation that will leave her well-off for the rest of her life.
Wright is disgusted by the idea. She loves acting. She loves shedding her skin and becoming someone else. The thought of retiring from acting and giving herself to the digital world brings her a great deal of pain. But she's desperate. In the past few years, she has been difficult to work with, and few, if any, directors are willing to offer her roles. Her son (Kodi Smitt-McPhee), has a beguiling condition that is leading to the gradual deterioration of his sight and vision. She hesitantly agrees, and takes up Miramax's offer.
The film then jumps 20 years into the future, with a computerized Wright starring in a successful action franchise while the real Wright cares for her ailing son. As her contract is soon to expire, she is invited to The Congress, a convention that takes place in a completely animated utopia.
Once The Congress transitions from live action to animation, it weakens. The visuals are certainly stunning, looking like Hayao Miyazaki and the Disney brand had a baby (and that baby took some acid before it came out of the womb). The first half-hour of trippy cartoonage is exciting, to say the least. The film is even more fun to look at than it was before, and, better yet, the story takes a turn into the sensational motifs of a political thriller. Not only has Hollywood become a fixture of technological advancement, but the Earth itself is turning fantasy into reality. In the 20 years since Wright's decision to put her artificial facsimile out on display for the world to see, scientists have invented a drug that gives an everyman the chance to become anyone they desire. If I wanted, I could turn myself into Humphrey Bogart, Cousin Itt, or a Golden Retriever. It eliminates the humanizing effects of ego. Then the film brings up the idea of an uprising (a sniper shoots an important political figure and rebels overtake The Congress convention), and you would expect things to become even more interesting than they would before.
Not quite. Ari Folman, the director of the hugely acclaimed Waltz with Bashir, halts the rising political excitement in favor of questions about our own humanity. The execution is successful, but it ultimately doesn't work very well alongside the satirical and subtly scathing tone of the first act. The film is a long two-hours (it should have been cut down by at least 20-minutes), and the tight storytelling disappointingly uncoils and becomes soft when it should have remained pointed.
I can't complain with full conviction, however, as The Congress is so original and so (sorry for the overused term) refreshing that its triumphs are multiplied. Wright, who has recently jump-started her career with the much adored House of Cards, is more luminous than ever. In all, it's an imperfect film, but it's potentially an important one. Last year, Transformers: Age of Extinction was one of the top-grossing movies, and that's a sad fact. A product of CGI and executives hungry for money, it hardly contained any craftsmanship and instead worked as an unoriginal cash cow. In theaters, The Congress made less than $500,000. Maybe audiences would rather watch explosions and mayhem than sit down and think. Maybe there is an unavoidable formula that works in blockbusters. But if we keep supporting piles of dung like Transformers, one can only hope that the horrors that overtake the planet in The Congress won't become reality. As far-fetched as that may be, the film is plenty persuasive.
Read more reviews at petersonreviews.com