The Machinist
Picture: B
Sound: B Extras: B- Film: B+
Usually, when one talks about “dystopian nightmares,” the
setting of said nightmare is in some underground bunker community at the edge
of the not-so-distant distant future or, maybe, on the earthly remnants of
society at its most post-apocalyptic. THX-1138
and The Matrix are good examples of these two poles. In The Machinist, we’re given
something rare — a dystopia like the aforementioned films, but one that is
found in the present day. There is a
feeling cultivated in the film, from the look — there is a harsh tint of blue,
green, gray, or sepia in every frame, a la The Matrix scenes inside the
Matrix — to the locations that conveys this environment that should be the
destiny of future generations but is, in fact, eerily contemporary.
The population of this world adds to its familiarity. The people we meet over the course of the
film are characters that we know, have known, or at least know of: workers
slaving away on broken down machines in a factory that doesn’t really care
about them; a hooker waiting for a stand-up guy to sweep her away from the
destitution of selling herself; an ominous figure instigating the actions and
motivations of our hero, who, it just so happens, is about as close to a
walking skeleton as you’ll ever see.
What happens in this world, though, is decidedly
unfamiliar territory. At least, it is to a point.
Trevor Reznik (Christian Bale), a machinist who hasn’t
slept in a year, makes the term “skinny as a rail” seem like it should be
applied to latter-day Marlon Brando.
Insomnia has taken a toll on Trevor, but his lack of sleep isn’t due to
a lack of trying. He just can’t sleep.
He fills his time by shacking up with Stevie (Jennifer Jason Leigh), the
necessary Hooker With a Heart of Gold, and enjoying the company of Marie
(Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), a waitress at an airport café. And while he seems to be getting on with his
personal life, his professional existence is a different matter all together.
At work, his co-workers think he’s an addict and something
of a creep show. Things take a turn for
the weird — or weirder, I suppose — after Trevor meets the big, hulking, bald,
mysterious Ivan (John Sharian) in the factory parking lot. Apparently, Ivan works with Trevor though
Trevor has never seen him. But after
their initial meeting, Ivan starts to be noticed, and with Ivan’s presence
comes disastrous consequences.
When Miller (Michael Ironside) asks Trevor for help with
repairs on a machine, Trevor is quickly distracted by the imposing Ivan, making
that slashing-throat, “I’m going to kill you” motion to Trevor. Trevor, weirded out by this possible threat
to his life, loses his composure and turns on the machine, costing Miller his
left arm.
And it’s all down hill from there.
Trevor’s co-workers trust him less, he starts to see Ivan
more and more frequently in more and more threatening situations, and he is led
down a path of strangeness that causes him to understand what It all
means. Unfortunately, we can’t share in
the grand revelations.
On one level, the conclusion of the film—one that is best
left to be experienced rather than spoiled—lives up to the Camus-esque
situations and allegory that precedes it.
Everything Trevor witnesses and experiences is synthesized in a
reasoning for his insomnia, weight-loss, and possible hallucinations. When the film winds to its conclusion,
there’s a satisfaction in discovering that where you thought it was going isn’t
where it ends up at all. The
Machinist is clever, that’s for sure, and it’s served well by the writer’s
obvious education in Lynch, Kafka, Camus, and Hitchcock.
But the film is also somewhat pedestrian. The revelations Trevor experiences are
painful obvious. Like The Sixth
Sense before it, The Machinist lays all the cards on the table as
the film progresses then pulls the old switch-a-roo when you’re distracted by
factory accidents and heavy-handed talk of “storm’s coming” hoping you won’t
put two and two together until they, the filmmakers, tell you what’s what. It’s a bit disingenuous on their part, but
for the type of “shock” ending it is, it works.
More interesting, though, is the feel of the film. From the murky yet oppressive lighting to
the all-out acting by Bale, who takes “suffering for his art” to new depths, The
Machinist is one of the moodiest films to be released in a long time. Watching the film, you can almost taste the
dirt and grime of Trevor’s apartment and smell the machine oil and sweat of the
factory floor.
But the locations of the film itself contribute most to
the mood of the film. Shot in Barcelona
as a double for Los Angeles, it’s obvious the world of The Machinist
isn’t stateside. Yet, with everyone
speaking American English and no hint of something funny going on, there is an
unease constructed in the places and objects.
Part of it is that dystopian thing, something that should be felt in the
25th century, say, not the 21st; the rest is the notion
summed up so perfectly by Garth in the “Wayne’s World” movie: “We're looking down
on Wayne's basement. Only that's not
Wayne's basement. Isn't that
weird?” It’s an unease that plays up
perfectly what Trevor feels throughout the entire film, that disconnect between
what he thinks he’s experiencing and
what he’s actually experiencing.
Ultimately, The Machinist succeeds because of the
sheer odd factor of it and the uneasy feeling that permeates throughout. That and the killer soundtrack that is part
Bernard Herrmann, part Theremin, all creepy and moody. There are some things left unexplained, like
just exactly who Ivan is, and that is fairly distracting when the final credits
roll, and while watching it, you can’t shake this feeling that you’ve seen this
all before from your psyche. In a way,
this works in the film’s favor since déjà vu is such an important part of
Trevor’s character. But, when watching
a film, you shouldn’t be straining to discover what other movies this and that
came from.
In other words, The Machinist is a flawed
masterpiece—but as flaws go, it’s tantamount to a slight flaw in a dirty
diamond rather than a major crack in your vinyl copy of The White Album.
On DVD, the film’s look suffers because of how murky it
is, intended as its stylized look. The
little details throughout are brought to life wonderfully, but the dark scenes
are so dark that you’ll find yourself straining to decipher what’s happening on
screen. That said, though, the 1.85 X 1
anamorphic transfer is clean with little to no noise to be found.
The audio side fare a little better. The score is full yet subtle and the little
incidental sounds throughout the film, like Ivan’s nefarious chuckle heard over
and over again in the background, is clean and discernable. Similarly, the sonics of some of the film’s
set pieces — the Route 666 ride, a car crash, a chase through the subway — are
big and loud and clean. This isn’t a
groundbreaking disc as far as the video and audio go, but for the most part it
gets the job done. The Dolby Digital
5.1 mix has subtle detail and is quite clean.
Extras-wise, there is a standard complement of a trailer,
commentary, and behind-the-scenes making-of documentary, as well as previews
for other Paramount releases. Again,
nothing groundbreaking here, but the meaty extras — the making-of and
commentary — add to the appreciation and understanding of the film. But, cliché as it might be, the best extra
here is the film itself. You’d do well
to pick this, if for no other reason than to experience one hell of a
mind-trip. There is nothing
earth-shattering here, but as films like this go, it’s one of the more
interesting you’ll find.
- Dante A.
Ciampaglia
