Kant and Hume Meet The Fountain

Kant and Hume Meet The Fountain

Before we start here, can I ask why all of these films lately have to do with death?  At least Big Fish felt redemptive and had some element of hope.  The Fountain was likely not the best film for me to watch at this point in my life.  And I know right now we are focused more on form and less on emotion, but I guess I don’t believe that you can remove emotion from a situation.  And if you think you can, you are just deluding yourself.  The Fountain felt like an exploration of how much death sucks…and life for that matter.

Ok, so now I will move forward with aesthetics, taste, and form.  Hume, when commenting On The Standards of Taste, stated that “it is natural for us to feel a standard of taste, a rule, by which the various sentiments of men be reconciled.”  We formulate taste by making comparisons.  And that seems to still be the case today.  We look at everything and formulate a judgment based on our interpretation of its supposed merit.  Be it a painting, a building, something in nature or a film, we appeal to its aesthetic qualities and as Kant suggests, we seek to possess pleasurable objects.  Kant cast further light on this when he called aesthetic judgments “judgments of taste” and remarked that, though they are based in an individual’s subjective feelings, they also claim universal validity.

According to the “source” (please note the sarcastic use of quotation marks here) of filmatic truth, Rotten Tomato, The Fountain only received a 51% approval rating from professional critics, and a 72% approval rating from the general commenting audience.  How then can we start to discover its aesthetic value?  (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/the_fountain/)  Kant said that we begin by searching for that which promotes moral goodness.  In the case of this thousand plus year journey to save his beloved queen/wife/tree, Tomas/Tommy/Tom, embarks on journey after journey, facing flame-wielding Mayans, primate operations, the neurological and physical effects of cancer, an extended moment in the bathtub, and a floating sphere encasing a dying tree to fight for his love.  The audience can certainly pull aspects of moral goodness from the fragmented, non-linear narrative.  As the story moves between representational story and images, the focus resides on life and death in the pursuit of immortality or the tree of life.   

If we are to attempt to understand Kant and how this film applies to theory, we must be able to distinguish between the “finer things:” the beautiful from the sublime. He says that Aesthetic pleasure comes from the “free play between the imagination and understanding when perceiving” an object.  Further, that judgments of taste can be considered universal because they are disinterested or unbiased; our individual wants and needs do not come into play when appreciating beauty, so our aesthetic response applies universally. Kant further instructs that while the “appeal of beautiful objects is immediately apparent; the sublime holds an air of mystery and ineffability”.  Izzy/Isabella is clearly, by today’s accustomed standard of taste, someone who is beautiful to observe.  We are able to appreciate her beauty without feeling driven to find some use for it.  She fits our notion and the aesthetic appeal of Rachel Weitz alone can sell tickets.  But our understanding of the sublime must cause us to go farther.  Kant states that our sense of the sublime is connected with our faculty of reason, which has ideas of absolute totality and absolute freedom. Sublime resides in reason.  And with that notion, we can look at her actions; her inside.  We can notice the moments she is desperate to spend time with the person she loves, to forgive and move on, to not be bothered in the little things and to take pleasure in the simple things like stars and snow.  Indeed even her surname lends itself to the sublime.  Their last name, Creo, is Latin for “I create” and Spanish for “I believe.”  (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0414993/trivia?ref_=tt_trv_trv)

The sublime can also be found in its dread and melancholy, like that of Tom as he realizes he is losing his wife, that of nobility and wonder as he meditates, first-father-like, and focuses on the inner workings of the universe.  And tragedy such as this certainly lends itself to the sublime.  Throughout the piece, he continuously faces his greatest fear and enemy, death, in its variety of forms.  At the beginning he is greeted with the foreshadowed line, “First father sacrificed himself for the tree of life.  Enter here and meet his fate”  Beauty is harmony of mind and world; and perhaps the very quest Tom is trying to make at the end, to find piece with the never-ending pursuit of immortality. 

Aronofsky’s use of dark colors, his symbolism, modes of thought, motifs add to his purposeful visual stylization.  It seemed that his form centered around color, or the lack thereof, and on deconstructed storyline.  If we compare the stark darkness of the time of the Spanish Inquisition to the almost clinical nature of what I deem the post-apocalyptical time, to the bright lights and vibrancy of the tree of life, we can find a sensory experience that moves from the subjective to the objective as we pursue its individual, interested elements.  Further symbolism can be observed in the ring and its promise of Eden and a queen.  Tom even brands a ring on himself.  The doorways become transitional areas, portals to other times.  The tree is a powerful recurring symbol, focusing on the idea of living on in another form, like the tree,   The protagonist plants the seed at her grave, as the future Tom speaks to the tree, touching it’s bark like her skin; the fibers/hairs on the tree responding the same way as hair on an arm to static energy and friction.  The tree literally gives a new life from its sap.  He is able to reconnect with his ring.  But then becomes part of the tree.

The connection with religion isn’t as pervasive, though still underlying.  The shout rings out at the beginning of the film of the dreaded “Pagans” as most of the men retreat.  Tomas, on the other hand plows through, scales the wall and goes toward the light.  He finds that “our bodies are prisons for our souls. Death frees every soul.”  There are references to Genesis and the fall of man; as well as the Tree of Life, Adam and Eve, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.  The quest for morality and desire to return to the time before prevails in the film.  Aronofsky actually interpreted the story of Genesis in regards to mortality.  He stated about The Fall:, "If they had drank from the Tree of Life [instead of the Tree of Knowledge] what would have separated them from their maker? So what makes us human is actually death. It's what makes us special.”  ("Interview: Darren Aronofsky, director of The Fountain, Part 2". /FILM. Retrieved December 19, 2006)  The idea of death as an act of creation with the underworld being represented as a dying star further aids in his motif. 

Enlightenment theory can also be seen as parts exist for the sake of the whole, whole exists for the sake of the parts.  Though the Aristotelian format takes a backseat to a new form leading the audience through a repetition of scenes, addition of detail, and seamless transitions between time periods, between memories, There seems to be an interconnectiveness of the three stories, all exist for the over arching objective of trying to overcome death.  He further finds that “death is the road to awe.”  And he is able to overcome pain and distance himself from emotion and harm, as is the case when he is floating after getting stabbed.  But the film ends where it started; with the protagonist having somewhat of a chance to right his mistakes.  And in this, perhaps he can achieve some real serenity, or the sublime. 

Kant speaks of the faculty of genius. “Whereas judgment allows one to determine whether something is beautiful or sublime, genius allows one to produce what is beautiful or sublime.”  So is Aronofsky a genius?  Or just an artist trying to find a new form to captivate his vision of the world.  Kant’s teleology suggests that everything has to have an end, a purpose.  Does it matter that I, as an audience member walked away from the film disturbed?  Does that make me frivolous and uneducated and therefore not able to distinguish beauty?  Or really does everyone have their own set of experiences that can be validated and acknowledged?  In an interview in 2012, Aronofsky stated that "ultimately the film is about coming to terms with your own death".  ("Darren Aronofsky Says 'The Fountain' Was Too Expensive, Talks Connecting 'Noah' With Modern Audiences & More". blogs.indiewire.com. Retrieved December 14, 2012) Its form, though clearly non-linear still lends toward an overarching theme of searching for meaning.  I agree that taste is culturally relative, perhaps circumstantially relative as well.  And while I’m clearly not prescribing to Kant’s notion of disinterestedness in my approach to this film, maybe I can “achieve a measure of grace.”  And really ask myself what it means to become whole?  And perhaps the journey of the audience parallels the journey of the protagonist as he crosses centuries (1500, 2000, 2500 AD) realizing as the dialogue echoes: “everything’s going to be all right.”  Let’s hope so.