This is not a film I could or would ever see again, but I am not about to criticize it as much as I am going to praise it on a technical and aesthetic level. At the core of the movie is the sad and enormously disconcerting theme of humans using animals to enrich their lives, which are lived in a high-tech, hyperstylized human world in which nature is losing its place. I am not a stickler when it comes to disturbing images. Indeed, Salo and Lake of Fire are favorite films of mine. It is animals whose suffering offends me; they are not consciously cruel and do not betray one another. Even when they are cruel, it is the way of survival in the natural world.
Nonetheless, this richly developed film about decay by Peter Greenaway truly sees and says something profound and disturbing about humanity. It is a purely metaphysical experience. For example, there is a scene where two character talk about the relevance of the film they're watching. We see fascinating elaborate showcases of making films of carcass decay. Even brief establishing shots and any one of the few cutaways Greenaway allows are layered with nuance and mathematical precision.
Purely a sensory approach, Greenaway's struck me as very thematically similar to David Cronenberg's: The focus is on the physiological effects of experience and environment. But where Cronenberg works ambiently inward, Greenaway radiates smolderingly outward, his standard being pale mise-en-scenes with intensely emboldened focal colors. And whereas the dark and ethereal nature of Cronenberg's work is accentuated by Howard Shore's brooding orchestral score, Greenaway betrays the psychosis of his wide, still, panoramic, painterly set-ups with Michael Nyman's infectiously eccentric and complex soundtrack.
I am not good at preparing myself for the human effect on animals, but I admire and appreciate ZOO's audacious and brandishingly external style. It is the sort of work that could be deemed style over substance, and maybe it is to some degree, but it is the style that informs function of the narrative. It is form over function that distinguishes humans from the rest of the animal world, and yet the form here is a smolderingly animalistic one. We cannot escape our nature.
Nonetheless, this richly developed film about decay by Peter Greenaway truly sees and says something profound and disturbing about humanity. It is a purely metaphysical experience. For example, there is a scene where two character talk about the relevance of the film they're watching. We see fascinating elaborate showcases of making films of carcass decay. Even brief establishing shots and any one of the few cutaways Greenaway allows are layered with nuance and mathematical precision.
Purely a sensory approach, Greenaway's struck me as very thematically similar to David Cronenberg's: The focus is on the physiological effects of experience and environment. But where Cronenberg works ambiently inward, Greenaway radiates smolderingly outward, his standard being pale mise-en-scenes with intensely emboldened focal colors. And whereas the dark and ethereal nature of Cronenberg's work is accentuated by Howard Shore's brooding orchestral score, Greenaway betrays the psychosis of his wide, still, panoramic, painterly set-ups with Michael Nyman's infectiously eccentric and complex soundtrack.
I am not good at preparing myself for the human effect on animals, but I admire and appreciate ZOO's audacious and brandishingly external style. It is the sort of work that could be deemed style over substance, and maybe it is to some degree, but it is the style that informs function of the narrative. It is form over function that distinguishes humans from the rest of the animal world, and yet the form here is a smolderingly animalistic one. We cannot escape our nature.