Written by Tom
Something I like to do on this blog is provide the case for texts which have been largely dismissed, particularly when they’re quite interesting pieces derided by an audience who are uninterested in reading them on their own terms. This is what I did for Weiner-Dog and Mute, and is the basic concept behind my Love Island Diaries, my essays on Doctor Who Series 10 and my ongoing DC Extended Universe vs. the World series. And boy do we have a doosy today: Lost River – 31% on Rotten Tomatoes, 5.8/10 on IMDb, critically panned, commercially unsuccessful, and absolutely brilliant.
What an odd object it is too. Written/directed by Ryan Gosling (yes, that Ryan Gosling) and starring both Saoirse Ronan and Matt Smith (who knew they were in a film together), I knew I had to watch it based on those names alone. Once I found that it was a visually intense piece of nightmarish surrealism about a forgotten underclass trying to survive American capitalism, it went straight to the top of my “Watch it now” list. And after finding that it’s really quite good… well here we are.
But liking this film seems to put me in the minority. The reviews on Google are pretty much unanimous that Lost River is a confusing mess that has no plot. Robbie Collins straight up refuses to accept it as cinema, claiming that “Gosling hasn’t really made a film [as much as] he’s pointed a camera at some things that he seems to think belong in one”, producing a morally vacant “Instagrammed poverty safari” that “has nothing to tell us about poverty other than that it looks, like, really cool”. The Guardian agreed, calling it “colossally indulgent, shapeless, often fantastically and unthinkingly offensive and at all times insufferably conceited”. So it’s a plotless vanity project in which a rich man treats the poor like zoo exhibits. At least with the argument against the film so staunchly defined, it’s easy to come up with the defence: we just have to explain what the film’s narrative structure is actually doing, tie this into working class existence from the perspective of someone who’s actually lived through the bastard, and then conclude things by calling it a working class magick trick in which the evils of capital can be resisted by a mythical take on collectivism. By Fnord standards, it’s almost simple. (more…)