Babylon: Swing and a Miss

Call Denzel Washington because I've got major Déjà vu. Damien Chazelle's latest has the feel of the kind of wildly uneven, overblown and self-indulgent project that cripples an entire movement, bankrupts a studio and puts a director in movie jail for years. The sort of wild swing miss that only a decent director is capable of and should make at some point as a learning curve. One which usually results from a director nobly wanting to revive a particular long gone aspect of cinema and getting lost in their own wave of brilliance and there's a sort of mutual trust involved so no-one tells the director to stop before it's too late. They've delivered before and so everyone just assumes they're going to bring it home with ease. Usually, you end up with this weird and unusual quaint thing every time. Chazelle proved himself capable on Whiplash, La La Land and First Man, so why wouldn't he pull this off? This time he's aiming for Goodfellas, The Wolf of Wall Street and Boogie Nights but ironically has pulled up short with a New York, New York We've seen these before. Generally, you expect them to take an absolute critical bashing but in about 20 years or so people go, "Oh wait that wasn't all that bad!".

Let me tell you a little story. In 1974, following the massive success of Taxi Driver, Martin Scorsese achieved a new found recognition, all eyes were on his next film. 3 years later, he had it: New York, New York. This would be his excuse to examine the musicals of his youth and try to replicate his earliest influences. The colourful films of Michael Powell and MGM. Take note, whilst Funeralopolis approves of The Red Shoes gorgeous cinematography, we feel our sensibilities are closer aligned with Peeping Tom, which is a film of real substance. We will not rest until Peeping Tom is talked about in the same breath as The Red Shoes. In recent times, Ti West made the mistake of returning to MGM musicals with Pearl, earning great praise from Scorsese but no love from Funeralopolis. In all fairness, New York, New York does fare better than Pearl. Mainly, in its unapologetic appreciation of jazz and painful study of the intersection between art and relationships. It poses the question of can romance blossom between two people committed to their careers?

Scorsese's production of New York, New York was rocky to say the least. His style was chaotic to begin with as he ventured in to the improvisations that had done him well on smaller scale productions. This was to be his first big studio film and he was not playing it safe. One thing to mess about in the streets with your mates and a camera but when Hollywood opens its doors to you, they don't tolerate such behaviours. They were wanting a by the numbers musical and they wanted it fast. For Scorsese, this was the opportunity to place Italian cinema, French cinema and American independent cinema inside the conventional Hollywood musical. To mix the modern playing field with the artificial backdrop. Essentially, superseding homage, avoiding re-creation and taking Hollywood into the current thinking of filmmaking. In the process, carving a more respectable industry. If those two words don't cancel each other out as an oxymoron.

Consensus on release was that Scorsese's marriage of old and new styles was a total car crash. Fast forward a few generations later and the hybrid is barely questioned. Flaws remain narratively but a future re-cut down the line could prove beneficial as in places it does grow repetitive. However, we're long past doubting style and the film is fairly accepted nowadays. People understand what he was doing. There is now huge respect for the style, at least in ambition anyway. Back in the late '70s, the negative response crushed little Marty's heart and so commenced his downward spiral. He didn't get it faxed across on to his desk that the entire New Hollywood movement was on its way out. Like the French New Wave that had preceded it, New Hollywood began to tumble. Time was up for the French in '62 and for the young American guys it was towards the end of the '70s. Dwindling box office entries, led to a lack of faith in studios hiring young directors with auteur dreams. New talent were asked to hand back the keys and booted out the back door with an almighty kick. They were fucked.

Scorsese's depression led him in to a severe cocaine addiction. After, casually using for a few years to meet assignment deadlines, he suddenly began snorting all day every day. Friends tried to stage their interventions but nothing worked. Eventually, this heavy usage resulted in a collapse and when he woke he was in hospital having survived a drug fuelled near death experience. Fearing the worst, lifelong friend Robert DeNiro decided the only thing that would cure this addict was more cinema. Before Scorsese was barely conscious, DeNiro launched Jake LaMotta's autobiography at the hospital bed. It was time to get back to work.

What do you do when you need a script fast? They called up their other best mate Paul Schrader, who was actually busy at the time making his own movies. Since writing Taxi Driver, Paul had made a name for himself in the director's chair with a string of well received hits such as Blue Collar and Hardcore. He was about to start shooting American Gigolo. Taking the time out to write again for other people would definitely be a huge favour. A table meeting was scheduled and they all sat down nervously to see if Paul would come aboard. Without him involved it would be a whole lot more difficult finding someone to get the structure right and to the essence of the character. An especially difficult task on this movie, considering the subject was a violent wife beater. It would have to be done just right. Paul didn’t need too much convincing. He took a long sip on a glass of wine and said, "Yes the boys, I'll do it. Give me 6 weeks"

That's a man who knows when the boys come calling desperate, you answer. Like that, The Taxi Driver dream team were back in action.

True to his word, in 6 weeks' time he had a first draft prepared. This script would form the structure of the story. A bones to keep revisiting. Main changes were, as you could have guessed, Schrader wanting LaMotta's pent up frustration to go even further in to the sexual arena. Whereas, DeNiro thought it needed to be more violent. Before the prison scene was LaMotta bashing his head in to the wall over and over, it was him masturbating. Classic Schrader antics. With the 6 weeks now up and Schrader back to work on American Gigolo, a second draft needed to be developed by Scorsese and DeNiro. To keep Scorsese sober, they went to an isolated island in the Caribbean called St. Maarten. A Dutch owned beach place with a small population of 41,000. In between listening to Blondie's Heart of Glass on repeat, bouncing round in Hawaiian shirts and a plethora of cocktails, the pair of them managed to crack on and maintain the right head space appropriate for healthy working.

Everything was going so well until one other celebrity randomly showed up on the supposed to be quiet island. Fellow Italian Enzo Ferrari. Naturally, Scorsese got all excited at this and there may have been some intense drinking and dancing on the beach to Donna Summer's Hot Stuff but other than that the boys behaved and kept their heads screwed on. After a few weeks of living out there like brothers, they had a usable script. In 1980, Raging Bull was met with rave reviews and is now considered one of the best movies of all time. Scorsese maintained an extremely critically successful career, earning his place amongst the American greats he idolised and is still dropping masterpieces at the age of 80.

Why do I mention all of this? Babylon suffers from the exact same excesses and indulgences as New York, New York and whilst it could be considered a box office flop, it has received an unexpectedly warm reception all things considered. Has the culture changed? Are we ahead now in the foreseeing of this being the type of movie being a critical disaster upon release but re-evaluated later? Are we skipping steps with awareness? Or is this a brilliant statement on where film criticism has sunk today. A world in which appreciation doesn't grow? It looks good, it must be good. No need to be critical. Analysis unnecessary. What will come of this? Normally, as we saw with Scorsese, when a director goes through their moment of excess and indulgence, they take a beating by the critics but then they come out the other side stronger. So, generally I recommend wild swing misses to get it out the system but if there's no backlash then what's the point? Who gains from that?

An artist will fail to grasp the confines of where they operate best creatively and never learn the parameters of how far you can push your audience.

My opinion on Babylon is completely split. For every reason I can think of to reward the film, there is something so embarrassingly terrible that takes you back to square one. What we have here is an ensemble piece about a bunch of filmmakers during the silent era of the '20s but told in a Boogie Nights style, which means multiple set pieces with rapid intercutting and relentless music. Since Boogie Nights is my favourite movie and I'm a silent film enthusiast, two competing arguments prevail in my mind. Should I be flattered enough to forgive a lot of its flaws or due to being a weaker effort should I hate it for damaging the legacy of the particular style? Adding to the latter there, what I mean is that since this is so heavily inferior, is it harmful to Boogie Nights and Goodfellas because all that happens is people copy the style in a shallow manner and forget substance, misremembering those two classics in the process? It's a real Blow

Definitely a case of diminishing returns and did they have to literally copy as much as they did? Let's go over this. Rise and fall hangout structure. Every characters collective downfall triggered by an update in technology. Instead of the emergence of video, here it is sound. A massive threat to silent stars when it was suddenly revealed many of the most well-known names couldn't speak well. Their voices couldn't match their looks. Pure David Beckham shit. Accents became a huge problem and overnight many vanished. Missing though is the evolution of writing and the demand for better skilled writers. Directors had to develop camera work to fight a battle against merely filming theatre and distinguish the art form. Many critics thought cinema lost its uniqueness with the inclusion of sound. Babylon's scope is quite narrow focusing mainly on the acting and music. The former is nothing new. Sunset Boulevard creepily touched on this issue over 70 years ago. Mansions became the graveyards of once loved actors. The living dead play cards to pass the time. No marks for originality then with Babylon.

At the changeover, one of the gang has a Little Bill moment and blows their brains across the walls. I won't reveal who. Missing though was the fuck off smile before finger hits trigger but other than that it’s a clone. Instead of Doc OC, we have Spiderman filling the Rahad Jackson role. He revels in this, being able to play an older version of himself from his Pussy Posse days. Google them. Also, ever wondered who Player X was in Molly's Game? He may have this cute and innocent persona in his films but he's definitely the sleaziest Spiderman. Respect. In the fake deal scene, prop money replaces dummy drugs. More directly lifting from Boogie Nights but yes I have to admit, that was very funny.

Are the set pieces and cross cutting enough to make the film survive on its own merit? These are generally mixed. Chazelle's erratic camera movements successfully maintain a suitable level of chaos but all this swooping cannot match the elegance and clarity of his inspirations. He sacrifices skill for speed but the effect is achieved. 3

To explain how such a style came about. Personally in my head it's called the 'Hand me the keys. Yes sir. No Sir. In the front and out the back, sir'. But this could definitely do with a shorter catchier title. Back in the late '80s, Scorsese literally re-discovered Kalatazov's Soviet film

I Am Cuba. A movie featuring some of the greatest and most complex tracking shots known to man.

Scorsese had always had an interest in these. It didn't quite appear overnight in 1990. Chapman and his crew were left baffled at some of the shots they were ordered to get on Taxi Driver. In one sequence, Travis enters the cab headquarters and the camera leaves him to capture everything else in the scene as it pans across and eventually picks him back up reentering the frame from another point. Before Scorsese, no-one really did shots like that. Leaving your star behind then returning to him in a continuous shot was ludicrous. Entirely changed the idea of continuity and perspective with the emphasis on maintaining the films world itself.

After seeing I Am Cuba though, he decided to take these concepts further and studied Hitchcock's Rope heavily and those Michael Powell musical numbers might have re-entered the picture too. So he takes all these factors and combined them with Thelma Schoonmaker's aggressive editing style not only reinvigorating the gangster genre on Goodfellas but going on to create a new style of storytelling. If you wish to carve a 150 minute plus epic that keeps on the move and goes by in a flash without stuffy stilted moments, study this style well. In the right hands, a picture in this style can become ferocious. All I ask is please, create some genuine characters, a proper world and do your own thing on the soundtrack. It doesn't have to be a Rolling Stones numbers every time!

Paul Thomas Anderson did just that and we got his disco porno magnum opus. Boogie Nights stands shoulder to shoulder with Goodfellas because it actually creates a realistic world with authentic characters. This is where Chazelle fails for me. His characters can be lovely to watch but this is not the silent era, this is Damien Chazelle's silent era, which has no bearing on the real one.

Marks go to his addition of Jazz. A delightful alternative to the copycats who endlessly play Rolling Stones tracks like Gimme Shelter and simply feature constant close ups of coke with heavy narration. Additionally, Chazelle doesn't just do this stylistically. Sure he's got the banging Justin Hurwitz score (his regular collaborator) but Jazz forms a basis of the story thematically too. In one of the best scenes, the black character Sidney Palmer, a musician, is forced to apply silly dark make up for 'lighting' purposes. They're so manipulative about it by bringing in the crews families in to the situation and suggesting if he won't take one for the team, they all have to go home.

This part has always intrigued me in film history. As an individual would you view your own actions as cowardice or would think I'm here, that's what matters, I'll take the hit now so somewhere further down the line someone else doesn't have to? Would fellow blacks look up to their actions and interpret them as brave for fighting within the system or cowards for being part of a system that mocks them? Or is it simply fuck everyone else, I've got to do what I've got to do to get paid and keep the lights on? Guess a lot depends on when you ask people these questions. Assume people grow more favourable to the struggles over time when the results can be judged further down the line. If only this character had more scenes though. Watching him moodily play his instrument having given in to the racist request and then using this central point to cut to the other characters is a cinematic moment of brilliance.

Over the course of the film, his character becomes increasingly intertwined as musical contributions to filmmaking transition from the side lines to within the frame itself. Always find that the appeal of the ensemble, watching them assemble the gang, split them off and later gather small pockets of them for side missions. On the subject of Babylon, it is evidently Jazz where Chazelle makes this his own. His appreciation of that music is the high point and what aligns this with Whiplash and La La Land as an Auter's vision.

Can this cruise by stylistically? When Chazelle keeps this contained to a minimal amount of locations, this can work. However, the scenes in between are so overstuffed and poorly written. This is where recent efforts like Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and Hail Caesar have fared well by restricting the action to a limited amount of days and locations.

To go outside of these causes the overall orchestration to fall. Scenes placed either side of the set piece heavy chaos become misplaced overly long interludes. Chazelle functions at his best when he slowly attacks a scene like it’s a massive blank canvas with each new stroke closer to a different corner and refusing to focus on a particular section in an ordered fashion. When the canvas shrinks, so too does my interest. When the number of fresh canvases increases, so too does my interest.

At first you think Chazelle has nailed it with the long extended sequences in the mansion and on the farcical film set. The latter being one of my favourites as they fight the elements with a sunset on the way and the need for a new camera. Brad Pitt must get his big kiss in before the sun goes down!

Spike Jonze plays the manic director, who's making this DW Griffith style epic. When I say the film world in Babylon isn't real, the criticism does not extend to here. I praise the heightened sense of disorder and surreal nature of filmmaking on display. Dudes clattering about in to each other with swords, destroying everything in their path and the camera trying its best to capture it all. Reminds of the Francis Ford Coppola cameo in Apocalypse Now Spike Jonze is amazing but should this role really have been played by Damien Chazelle?

Ironically when too many locations are brought in and Chazelle is compelled to ground his material with meaning is exactly the point he completely loses the picture. Other than the cockroach speech, which in my opinion becomes a little overly explained and destroys the subtlety (as is custom today), the writing is piss poor on this movie. Where it comes alive is in the kinetic direction. Any sidestepping from the style becomes so obvious that all it serves to do is advance the plot.

Had Chazelle kept this to about 3 locations and just had extended hangout scenes, this would have no doubt been much better. His inability to weave the plot in to the big set pieces exposes his weak writing. The fact he can't blend the two damages the movie significantly. He'll deviate back and forth between the fun free for all scenes and dull exposition catching you up on where the characters are at. He should have been able to maintain the style. How to do it actually is that scene when Brad Pitt's on the phone, we're cutting back and forth wondering how Chazelle will bring all the characters back together again in the montage. It needs to work like the sound of a typewriter, initially tapping a few keys then building in to a frenzy as it goes from flirtation to fruition. You can slow down slightly in the interludes but keep the momentum. These interludes need to be quick and snappy building the tension for the next huge set piece to come. Slowing down and removing your style to give us plot, now that's cowardice. Find a way to do it on the move!

Despite approving of this being a 3 hour epic in theory, there's definitely a few scenes I'd have cut out straight away. The 'hitting the mark' sequence could go for starters. PJ Byrne was funny in The Wolf of Wall Street but here just repeatedly saying he's going to "shit" on people didn't get a single laugh out of me. His scene to show off his comedic talents and he fails miserably. Bad lines and even worse delivery. Wasn't exactly Living in Oblivion or Day for Night was it? Shame cause that line he had earlier about the boner on set was a humdinger.

Also, that scene when Margot Robbie is throwing plates around did nothing for me, that's got to go. Whole cinema was erupting with laughter and I was just praying for it to be over quicker. It's one of them loud and annoying routines you'd expect from Rebel Wilson or Melissa McCarthy. You're better than that Margot. Don't lump yourself in that category. You're the future Sharon Stone babe, you don't have to be doing shit like this. You're a better actor than that, come on. Stinker of a scene, scrap it.

As a provocative film of debauchery, it's a complete failure. About the best we get in this department is a bit of piss play early on. A fetish so tame these days though it may as well be a vanilla activity. So cast any ideas about this being a grand epic Tinto Brass movie sexploitation movie aside. Most disappointing because it's not every day Hollywood finances a big R Rated sex comedy like this. Unfortunately, all this amounts to is a quality one notch up above a Baz Luhrmann movie with a few barely visible titties in the background. Step your game up Mr Chazelle. You see, I could have sacrificed some of the quality on this if Damien was more sexually explicit, outrageous and got even more money out the studio for it. Racier, more outlandish and with someone else's money. The big 3. That's the mantra. That shit gets my respect. Bankrupting and disgracing studios by financing your sleazy endeavours is a move to be held high separate to quality. The stuff of legend.

Sadly, no one would really walk out of Babylon and go that was outrageous, controversial, offended my good tastes or was too far. Alternatively, most would just go ah that was a fun movie; on this basis a let-down in perversion. A bottle job. When I mentioned earlier that this film world doesn't feel real, it is in Damien Chazelle trying to create this honest depiction of the silent film eras infamous depravity whilst cohering to the current sensibilities of the MeToo movement. There is no lecherous gazes, excessive illicit touching or anything that comes close to the horrors of the Virginia Rappe scandal. Strictly consensual making none of the interactions or behaviour engaged in at the parties establish the time period. It isn't believable or real. The actors don't walk or talk right breaking the spell and reminding you this is just a bunch of modern people trying to re-create a past they weren't part of.

Oh what do you know, on the provocation, just like with the 'Pass me the keys. Yes sir, no sir. In the front and out the back, sir', Chazelle's technical abilities comes up short of his influences. Scene in question: late on in the third act with the Irreversible nod at the seedy underground club. Full respect for throwing a crocodile in there but the atmosphere is very tame and exhaustedly a little boring in its lack of true weirdness. Could have done with a more surreal shooting style that was artistically intoxicating. Every tool possible being used to make the viewer feel sick.

In all fairness, navigating the line between fun nostalgia and the dark underbelly of the past is a hard task. With Damien adhering more to the former to create a cheeky spectacle over a shocking one. And I get that decision. I do. It's a tough tight rope to walk revealing the amusing likeable naughtiness and what is fundamentally morally corrupt. However, he doesn't even try with this and never comes close to the line of shocking or challenging. As a consequence, he also loses the gritty authenticity and what comes with that is the inability to say anything worthwhile about the period. The extreme contradictions of the creativity and fun against the unforgivable sins would have been the complex portrait. The human portrait. If he wanted to only depict the romanticised version of the silent era then that would be fine but he also wants to engage in the perverse, so you have to judge it that way too. On this angle, it doesn't deliver.

The title is undeniably intriguing though comparing the silent era to one of the first established empires. A religious and cultural centre providing the world with early major technical developments and all the dodginess that comes with any empire. Making the 3 hour length a fitting goal to evoke the sense of a historical epic such as those covering the Ancient Greeks and Rome. Couldn't tell you who originally came up with this in relation to early silent filmmaking but underground cult director Kenneth Anger would write notorious articles about movie star vices and these would later form the book Hollywood Babylon. Many of the stories involved have been questioned for whether they are fact or fiction but Chazelle never gets anywhere near the same sense of shocking sordid mischief as Anger's tales.

Since Chazelle is unable to establish the period as it was, his scope is diminished and the overall message or purpose is small. Best he can do is just say oh isn't cinema lovely in a cheap and superficial way as is becoming far too popular. Sorry boys, it's another of these love letters to Hollywood. Return to sender.

This brings me to what is genuinely the most vulgar and offensive moment in this so called provocative movie. A disgusting and lazy montage of every movie ever. What a tacky and unearned way to deliver your message. It reads more as an advertisement of cinemas catalogue than a celebration of cinema. Unironically putting 2001 and Avatar together to emphasise cinema at its best is laughable. Don't even care whether the images are connected by their developments in technology across the last hundred years. Beyond cringe inducing. What an unforgivable sequence in a film that was already close to the line of my tolerance.

If you read Babylon as a dorky film about dudes hanging out in the silent era, there's so much to appreciate here. Obviously, as I've touched on, it doesn't come off respectably but there's enough of a good time for you to think lay off Babylon and why attack it so viciously? So what if it doesn't land as it should, Damien is clearly refreshingly passionate about jazz and the silent era. Brad Pitt, oh god, this man is hilarious. For his first introduction, he re-invents the "Babe please stop you're not a 1940s LA private investigator" to "Babe please stop you're not an Italian film star". She gives him a final warning to stop like Bear the other week and like Balthazar, Brad doesn't stop. In this case, leading to an instant divorce on the spot hahaha. As a straight up comedy, rather than a homage, this unequivocally has its moments. Trust me, I want to lay off it and I know I'm guilty of going to town on it but the pain of the cinema is great montage and unfunny shouty routines can't be understated.

Overall, it's a sporadically fun failure that I would call a miss but the kind of crazy exciting miss only a decent director could make and learn from. I've been asking myself all these questions to determine whether it's genuinely good. Picking apart every sequence. When really there's just one question here that matters. Would I watch it again? Yeah, sure. Make of that what you will.

Bonus Points:

-Chazelle's unrelenting love of Jazz, the silent era and set piece heavy intercutting

-The ambition to make a 3 hour epic about days gone by and focus on debauchery all on studio money

-Margot Robbie for icing her nips between takes

-The dude who gets a boner mid scene

-The DWG riot and Spike Jonze being a maniac

-Brad Pitt for enticing all his women by doing stupid shit like speaking Italian

-Flea being a rich creep

-Jovan Adepo's moody instrument playing

-Eric Roberts supremacy

-Tobey Maguire seediness

Overall Score: 3/5