Maps to the Stars probably deserves repeated viewings, but I could only give it one. David Cronenberg, one of the great living filmmakers, has moved from being physically, almost gynecologically, gory to psychically &/or narratively gory, and I’m not sure if I can handle this master’s transition though I appreciate it.
This Greek tragedy unfolds in Hollywood, but don’t let the shallow posing fool you. Maps to the Stars is raw, ugly, isolating and cold- a nightmarish take on Robert Altman’s version of sprawling connection. Intimacy is only theoretical-a service provided by massage therapists, limo drivers, assistants and psychologists. Family is alternately a corporate product or a place of pain. I never thought that an American could succeed at magical realism, but Cronenberg does and not everything feels like it could be written off as a pharmaceutical or mentally disabled hallucination. By the time I made the connections and realized what was happening, Maps to the Stars was over, and I was left aghast. If I explained what happened, it would sound contrived, but it felt shocking and real as I watched it. There is something very primal and elemental (fire and water) about Maps to the Stars that grabbed me viscerally, and I’m not sure what it all means in the end, but I’m totally OK with it. Making a hardened film viewer feel something overwhelming is a huge compliment.
Julianne Moore stole the whole movie as Havana, a washed up actress who is desperately trying to stay relevant, important and heal. She is simultaneously repulsive and sympathetic until cruelty begins to overtake her underdog desperation. John Cusack has never been so terrifying to me-his take as an assassin in Grosse Point Black seemed ridiculous, but if he had played it like this, there would not have been a happy ending. He is almost cadaverous pale. His huge frame dominates his costars, and his version of psychobabble is more chilling than comforting. Olivia Williams, a Joss Whedon alum, should really get more work than she does-she goes from believably corporate cold to shockingly vulnerable. If you are familiar with Mia Wasikowska’s career (Stoker), her character may hold the least surprises, but she manages to walk the tightrope between wide-eyed innocent trying to find her way to the only person who knows exactly where she is heading. Evan Bird plays an extremely unlikeable child actor–a repugnant human being that you want gone and a victim of circumstances larger than he is. I know that this is Robert Pattinson’s second time with Cronenberg (I haven’t seen Cosmoplis yet) and Cronenberg is not the only solid director to give work to this former teen idol, but his delivery always seems somnolent and labored. I don’t get his appeal-his jaw is odd, his brow is heavy and hangs like a teen Cro-Magnon, but he is loved by all. In contrast, Sarah Gadon, whose work and character haunts every aspect of the movie, makes everything seem easy and effortless, but really isn’t since she is called to play so many things.
I would not recommend Maps to the Stars to anyone because it is very disturbing, but if you are up for a psychologically disturbing movie by one of the titans of filmmaking with some amazing acting, give it a shot, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.