Based on a French comic book by Jacques Lob and
Jean-Marc Rochette, “Snowpiercer”
marks South Korean director Bong Joon-Ho’s first English-language film, after
receiving international acclaim for his monster movie “The Host” and his crime drama “Mother”
– neither of which I have yet seen, though I intend to do so promptly.
At their best, post-apocalyptic works express contemporary fears about the state of the world while also using the scenario to explore the nature of man through the way different characters react to it. “Snowpiercer” only uses the former as its setting – a global ice age provoked by a disastrous attempt to quell global warming by releasing a cooling gas in the atmosphere – and does not go any further. Cramming a population of survivors from multiple nationalities and cultures into a train’s restricted space could provide for an observation on the kind of society that would evolve from forcing people of such different cultures, values and attitudes to live together in order to survive. But it appears neither Bong Joon-Ho nor the original writers were interested in potentially controversial material. Thus the more essential aspect of any post-apocalyptic work – examining human nature – is reduced to tired dystopian satire of class divide, smiling totalitarianism and cult of personality – in this case, that of the train’s all-powerful designer Wilford (Ed Harris), worshipped as the prophet of the deity that is the Engine.
The totalitarian system keeping the lower classes in the
tail section is embodied by two sub-Umbridge female figures: Tilda Swinton’s
grotesque Yorkshire-accented Mason and Alison Pill’s sugary
schoolteacher/indoctrinator. Mason’s introduction – punishing a mutineer by
sticking his arm out of a hole until it gets frostbitten, all while lecturing
the crowd like a high-strung headmistress – gets the point across efficiently,
her character’s colorful personality and clothing sticks out amongst the
general grimness in a way that is both eerie and darkly comical. Unfortunately,
her later appearances overplay the comical aspect too much, particularly in the
midst of grueling action scenes. The same can be said of the entire scene in
which Alison Pill indoctrinates schoolkids in a garish yellow classroom, just
after a particularly brutal action scene. The film’s shifts in tone and genre
are jarring, not helped by the dullness of the action scenes. Bong Joon-Ho’s
shaky close ups intend to evoke claustrophobia, but create mostly frustration –
though they are not nearly as incompetently shot and edited as in Paul
Greengrass’s films. He uses the presence of axes and hammers as a pretext for
slow motion that becomes repetitive very quickly.
The film’s tonal incoherence and inappropriately-paced
plot robs its best moments of their emotional payoff and its characters of
their interest. Take the film’s protagonist, Curtis Everett (Chris Evans, displaying more range and depth
than I’d expect from him). For most of the film, he serves as the rebels’
rugged leader, giving orders with grim determination. Everything about him,
from his demeanor down to his appearance – white skin, brown hair and beard,
dirty and bloodied face – suggests the most generic of video game protagonists,
as if he had been teleported from a zombie survival game.
Towards the end of the film, as he is about to reach
his goal and open the gate to Wilford’s quarters, his request is denied by
junkie technician Namgoong Minsu (Song
Kang-Ho), who up until now had opened all gates in exchange for the
fictional drug Kronol, with the help of his equally addicted daughter Yona (Ko Ah-Sung). Exhausted, Curtis drops to
the floor and makes a revelatory monologue explaining his motivations. In this,
we learn several things:
1)
During his first days on the tail-section,
Curtis and many others resorted to cannibalism to survive.
2)
Curtis knows “babies taste the best”.
3)
Edgar (Jamie
Bell), whom Curtis had looked after like a little brother until his death
in battle, was one such baby he tried to cannibalize.
4)
Curtis’s mentor Gilliam (John Hurt), the brains behind the rebellion, saved baby Edgar by
cutting off his own arm to feed it to Curtis and his fellow cannibals.
These important elements give us information about
Curtis and about now-dead companions that invite us to see them – and Curtis’s
interactions with them – in a new and different light. But whatever emotional
impact it might have had is denied by its lateness. Rather than a natural
character development, it comes across as a last-minute attempt at gaining
sympathy. Had we learned this information progressively, the result would have
felt more natural.
“Snowpiercer”
has a lot of good ideas aside, the greatest of which is derived from its
primary setting: A journey within a journey, from one end of the train to the
other as it continues its permanent ride across the world. In the end, what is
the point? To wait patiently until temperatures rise and the world becomes
habitable again? How much longer can humanity endure without running out of
food? Would it not be preferable to die on one’s own terms instead of being
trapped within a constantly moving prison? When its attention is on Nam, whose
goal is precisely to take his chances outside, “Snowpiercer” comes close to seriously addressing these questions.
Alas, its screenplay chooses to resemble a video game as generic as its
protagonist, rather than a more profound one.
