Dark CityWhat is the nature of the human soul? Is it merely the sum of its parts, the collection of our memories which make us who we are? Or is it something intrinsic, something hidden that cannot simply be mixed together like so much paint? Beneath the depths of Alex Proyas' Dark City is that ultimate question: who are we? It is a question which "the strangers" seek to answer, but in the midst of their quest, they seem to have forgotten the greater purpose for their endeavor, as they come to terms with an unlikely opponent in John Murdoch (Rufus Sewell), an enigmatic amnesiac who changes their game forever.
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The story of Dark City is densely layered; like an onion, it peels away layer after layer, with new revelations and daring twists, leaving you unsure of your footing in your first experience. Though I dare not spoil the rich and entertaining turns Dark City boasts, suffice to say it is modeled in the vein of a noir thriller, like a crime story and a chase to catch a serial killer. From the outfits and the tone, one might think that Dark City feels a bit like a relic from another time, but with a few contemporary vibes to distort the authenticity of pigeon-holing the film in the 1940s or the like. In fact, the framing and set design is a little too perfect, as though it was crafted and not simply spontaneous; this too has a bearing on the scope of the film, and says more than one would expect on the surface. Dark City is a psychological film, ultimately concerned with the search for the soul; this is the greater play at work in the grim urban environment, where on the night streets, slick with the rain which never falls, lurks the strangers, seeking, studying, the bogeymen in fur-lined coats and black fedoras. It is no coincidence that Dr. Daniel P. Schreber (Kiefer Sutherland) is a psychologist--an "expert on personalities"--with a film which deals so extensively in the arena of the mind. Although a variety of psychological disciplines are tangentially explored, the one which stands out as the most appropriate to me in Dark City is that of behaviorism, at least as far as the strangers are concerned. The overall idea of behaviorism is that psychology should be concerned with the observable moments--the "behaviors" of the subjects--to glean a better understanding of how the mind works, and specifically from a methodological approach. Murdoch awakens in the bathtub in a dingy motel, confused and disoriented, but especially without any memory of who he his or how he got there. In short time, he understands that agents are at work against him, and he is forced to flee. But John's actions are not those of the person he has been psychically guided toward becoming--believed to be--as he struggles to find himself in the labyrinth of his own mind.
Dr. Schreber serves as a kind of feeble guide for John, trying to direct him in his journey through the dark city, both the literal and the metaphorical one of his psyche. But Dr. Schreber has alliances which put him in an awkward position, one where he has to maintain the appearance of being a willing accomplice, but also serve the greater good. Dr. Schreber is still enriching his own studies, and his own interests in the human mind. He understands these things more than the strangers, but is only willing to share so much, perhaps out of fear of what will happen when he is no longer useful. To aid John, he intentionally misdirects John's contrite wife, Emma (Jennifer Connelly)--convinced she betrayed her husband by having an affair--as well as Inspector Frank Bumstead (William Hurt), the detail-obsessed investigator of the "street walker killer", all to bring John closer to his destiny. One of my favorite images in this film--already full with deeply striking visuals--is when Dr. Schreber is meeting with Emma for the first time, and observing a white mouse in a maze, working its way through the varied corridors, only to come to the center and get misdirected yet again. The visual pattern of the maze is akin to the spiral patterns found upon the bodies of the slain prostitutes, and even John's own fingerprints to an extent--all of which a metaphor for the city as a whole, a kind of encapsulating microcosm, where--as is the case with a kind of urban claustrophobia--it is easy to feel trapped like a rat, unable to escape and as though you were spinning in circles, getting nowhere. When "Mr. Hand" (Richard O'Brien) makes the unorthodox decision to "walk in John Murdoch's footsteps", he does so because he begins to understand just how vacant he and the other strangers are in the absence of a real sense of individuality. In a way, Mr. Hand is more in tune with humanity than his compatriots, because he already possesses those darker qualities of the soul which make us who we are...envy, desire, want...all individual, selfish motivations which edge him toward Murdoch and the ephemeral qualities he believes with give him something he has been without, that which makes humanity unique. When he and Emma are at the dock, "reminiscing" in their own kind of way, he indicates how frustrating it must be--in his hypothetical comment--that it would be terrible to not have any memories to yourself, to lack that sense of identity and self; and yet the coldly academic approach of him and his allies not only reinforces the plight of the strangers, but emphasizes why they are doomed. But John understands this at a level deeper than what could simply be told to him, and he proves the power of the soul and his own goodness and strength of character allows for him to exemplify the human spirit, and foster a new dawn. The world is what you make of it...quite literally.
Recommended for: Fans of a mysterious and yet exciting film, one which deftly winds and bends between genres--noir, mystery, and much more--and leaves you excited to see just how the enigmatic story unfolds.
Dr. Schreber serves as a kind of feeble guide for John, trying to direct him in his journey through the dark city, both the literal and the metaphorical one of his psyche. But Dr. Schreber has alliances which put him in an awkward position, one where he has to maintain the appearance of being a willing accomplice, but also serve the greater good. Dr. Schreber is still enriching his own studies, and his own interests in the human mind. He understands these things more than the strangers, but is only willing to share so much, perhaps out of fear of what will happen when he is no longer useful. To aid John, he intentionally misdirects John's contrite wife, Emma (Jennifer Connelly)--convinced she betrayed her husband by having an affair--as well as Inspector Frank Bumstead (William Hurt), the detail-obsessed investigator of the "street walker killer", all to bring John closer to his destiny. One of my favorite images in this film--already full with deeply striking visuals--is when Dr. Schreber is meeting with Emma for the first time, and observing a white mouse in a maze, working its way through the varied corridors, only to come to the center and get misdirected yet again. The visual pattern of the maze is akin to the spiral patterns found upon the bodies of the slain prostitutes, and even John's own fingerprints to an extent--all of which a metaphor for the city as a whole, a kind of encapsulating microcosm, where--as is the case with a kind of urban claustrophobia--it is easy to feel trapped like a rat, unable to escape and as though you were spinning in circles, getting nowhere. When "Mr. Hand" (Richard O'Brien) makes the unorthodox decision to "walk in John Murdoch's footsteps", he does so because he begins to understand just how vacant he and the other strangers are in the absence of a real sense of individuality. In a way, Mr. Hand is more in tune with humanity than his compatriots, because he already possesses those darker qualities of the soul which make us who we are...envy, desire, want...all individual, selfish motivations which edge him toward Murdoch and the ephemeral qualities he believes with give him something he has been without, that which makes humanity unique. When he and Emma are at the dock, "reminiscing" in their own kind of way, he indicates how frustrating it must be--in his hypothetical comment--that it would be terrible to not have any memories to yourself, to lack that sense of identity and self; and yet the coldly academic approach of him and his allies not only reinforces the plight of the strangers, but emphasizes why they are doomed. But John understands this at a level deeper than what could simply be told to him, and he proves the power of the soul and his own goodness and strength of character allows for him to exemplify the human spirit, and foster a new dawn. The world is what you make of it...quite literally.
Recommended for: Fans of a mysterious and yet exciting film, one which deftly winds and bends between genres--noir, mystery, and much more--and leaves you excited to see just how the enigmatic story unfolds.