High LifeThe mysteries that make up our self-destructive drives are as inscrutable as a black hole. High Life is a science fiction film superficially about a group of death row prisoners cast out into the void of space to harness the power of a black hole. These inmates turned astronauts are acutely aware that their trek into the cosmos is a one-way trip. As the years roll on, social mores collapse, and madness creeps in for most of them. Perhaps the only exception to this is Monte (Robert Pattinson), raising his daughter, Willow (Jessie Ross), from infancy within the interstellar microcosm they call home.
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Directed and co-written by Claire Denis, High Life embodies some tropes of the sci-fi genre, yet more often than not approaches its content from a hallucinatory, dreamlike perspective. The narrative begins in medias res, with Monte raising his infant daughter aboard the all but deserted spacecraft, which hovers just outside of a black hole's gravitational pull. He spends his days teaching the infant Willow everything from walking to (curiously) the definitions of a "taboo". It isn't revealed until later that Monte--and everyone else aboard their spaceship--are prisoners, guilty of crimes that society has also defined as taboo. Very little time is spent expounding on the mission proper, instead favoring scenes that feel disconnected from reality. If there is anyone who occupies a position of authority, it is Dr. Dibs (Juliette Binoche); though she is also a prisoner, she experiments on her fellow inmates, attempting to artificially inseminate one of the female crew members. Only Monte abstains from her routine collections of fertility samples from the other male inmates--in exchange for drugs--which only serves to arouse her attraction toward him. Dibs' attempts to clinically reproduce a baby comes (in part) from an arbitrary rule imposed on the prisoners--that there is to be no sexual interaction between them. Instead, they have access to a device called "The Box", with which the crew releases their sexual tension independently. It is later revealed that Dibs was condemned for killing her own children, suggesting that her experiments are born from a desire to rectify her tragic mistake. But Dibs' fixation on the process suggests that she is more interested in proving that she can circumvent the rules and run things in her own way.
Although Monte is the protagonist of High Life, Dibs often propels the action. Her influence is felt even in scenes where she isn't present--such as with the drugs she distributes to the crew--and spurs all of the subsequent moments of crisis that follow. The woman who bears the deepest resentment toward her domineering attitude is Boyse (Mia Goth), a former drug addict who openly rails against Dibs for bossing everyone around and playing God with their bodies. Boyse isn't introduced properly until after first appearing in a flashback of Monte's, waiving at him in her spacesuit that is missing a glove. Perhaps in another life, Monte might have pursued a relationship with Boyse, as he obviously finds her attractive. Yet he maintains such a comparatively high level of celibacy--as it concerns their use of The Box--that he is jokingly called "Monk" by his friend, Tcherny (André Benjamin). It is suggested that Monte maintains this celibacy out of a presumption that it will protect him from falling prey to the insanity that begins afflicting the rest of the crew, even the seemingly serene Dibs. High Life insinuates that life is naturally predisposed toward self-destruction, even in the very premise of sending human beings on a veritable suicide mission into a black hole. The irony of Dibs' obsessive intent to reproduce life is that it ends up sowing the seeds of discord, leading to the eventual breakdown of life on the ship; Monte paradoxically only resists by repressing his natural instincts. There is a moment where Monte and Willow discover a nearly identical vessel to theirs--which resembles a giant shoebox--occupied exclusively by dogs. As it was with Monte's crew, any semblance of order has long since collapsed, and the canines have only survived by feeding on their dead--another sign of taboos falling by the wayside as society gives way to entropy.
Comparisons have been made between High Life and Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris; both films are science fiction, but have more to do with existential dread and angst than presenting a convincing voyage into the stars. The aesthetic of High Life is deliberately retro, including antiquated computers and set design that is reminiscent of more meditative and introspective science fiction films of yesteryear, like Solaris or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Even the astronaut suits are composed of a burlap-like fabric and seem ill-suited for use in the vacuum of space. One of the first shots in High Life is of a terrarium situated within the spaceship; its existence superficially makes sense as a means to generate oxygen for the crew, but its real purpose is as a place for Monte and Tcherny to contemplate their mutual doubts with one another. There are vents that spew out constant blasts of air, which looks far too inefficient to exist within a real spaceship, existing solely to make Dibs appear more enticing as she stands in front of the airflow, blowing against her luxurious, long black hair. Science fiction movies--like Interstellar or even Disney's ultra-bizarre Black Hole--have had a complicated relationship with black holes, often depicting them as mysteries that redefine the fundamental laws of nature and physics. High Life adds that the black hole represents everything that is unknowable and mysterious about life, including death itself. For all of mankind's great deliberations and debates about what makes us tick, there will always be that unknowable mystery that draws us ever closer into its event horizon, refusing to answer our inquiries or letting us escape its inexorable draw.
Recommended for: Fans of a surreal psychodrama wearing the skin of a science fiction film. High Life is best suited for mature audiences--not only for its occasionally graphic content, but because of the complex questions it asks about our instinctive drives and desires, and how they depressingly only guide us toward our own destruction.
Although Monte is the protagonist of High Life, Dibs often propels the action. Her influence is felt even in scenes where she isn't present--such as with the drugs she distributes to the crew--and spurs all of the subsequent moments of crisis that follow. The woman who bears the deepest resentment toward her domineering attitude is Boyse (Mia Goth), a former drug addict who openly rails against Dibs for bossing everyone around and playing God with their bodies. Boyse isn't introduced properly until after first appearing in a flashback of Monte's, waiving at him in her spacesuit that is missing a glove. Perhaps in another life, Monte might have pursued a relationship with Boyse, as he obviously finds her attractive. Yet he maintains such a comparatively high level of celibacy--as it concerns their use of The Box--that he is jokingly called "Monk" by his friend, Tcherny (André Benjamin). It is suggested that Monte maintains this celibacy out of a presumption that it will protect him from falling prey to the insanity that begins afflicting the rest of the crew, even the seemingly serene Dibs. High Life insinuates that life is naturally predisposed toward self-destruction, even in the very premise of sending human beings on a veritable suicide mission into a black hole. The irony of Dibs' obsessive intent to reproduce life is that it ends up sowing the seeds of discord, leading to the eventual breakdown of life on the ship; Monte paradoxically only resists by repressing his natural instincts. There is a moment where Monte and Willow discover a nearly identical vessel to theirs--which resembles a giant shoebox--occupied exclusively by dogs. As it was with Monte's crew, any semblance of order has long since collapsed, and the canines have only survived by feeding on their dead--another sign of taboos falling by the wayside as society gives way to entropy.
Comparisons have been made between High Life and Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris; both films are science fiction, but have more to do with existential dread and angst than presenting a convincing voyage into the stars. The aesthetic of High Life is deliberately retro, including antiquated computers and set design that is reminiscent of more meditative and introspective science fiction films of yesteryear, like Solaris or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Even the astronaut suits are composed of a burlap-like fabric and seem ill-suited for use in the vacuum of space. One of the first shots in High Life is of a terrarium situated within the spaceship; its existence superficially makes sense as a means to generate oxygen for the crew, but its real purpose is as a place for Monte and Tcherny to contemplate their mutual doubts with one another. There are vents that spew out constant blasts of air, which looks far too inefficient to exist within a real spaceship, existing solely to make Dibs appear more enticing as she stands in front of the airflow, blowing against her luxurious, long black hair. Science fiction movies--like Interstellar or even Disney's ultra-bizarre Black Hole--have had a complicated relationship with black holes, often depicting them as mysteries that redefine the fundamental laws of nature and physics. High Life adds that the black hole represents everything that is unknowable and mysterious about life, including death itself. For all of mankind's great deliberations and debates about what makes us tick, there will always be that unknowable mystery that draws us ever closer into its event horizon, refusing to answer our inquiries or letting us escape its inexorable draw.
Recommended for: Fans of a surreal psychodrama wearing the skin of a science fiction film. High Life is best suited for mature audiences--not only for its occasionally graphic content, but because of the complex questions it asks about our instinctive drives and desires, and how they depressingly only guide us toward our own destruction.