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| Pictured: Jason Momoa & Amber Heard - Directed by: James Wan - Director of Photography: Don Burgess, ASC - Production Designer: Bill Brzeski - Costume Designer: Kym Barrett |
"Mercy is not our way." - King Orm.
It’s only fitting that Aquaman, a film about a man split between worlds, is a movie split between identities. The split is not a tone/aesthetic divide—in fact, these things are conjoined to near perfection in a complete understanding of the film’s needs—but a moral one.
“I’m the bastard son of the queen your people executed,” Arthur Curry (Jason Momoa) says upon meeting Mera (Amber Heard). Much is made of the banishment/execution of Queen Atlanna (Nicole Kidman), Arthur’s mother, at the hands of the system that punished her for daring to leave her world behind, bearing a half-human child. Arthur and the film place judgement upon this system, highlighting one thing; the abandonment of forgiveness and mercy.
Orm’s external reasoning for his villainy is a means of veiling his grief towards the death of his mother; the pollution of the oceans by humankind. Really, he’s lashing out at the species he blames for Atlanna’s death (which not only grants his fascistic activity throughout the film an emotional out which is… troubling) However, corporate pollution is the one point Orm has in his favor, only to be undercut by his own fascistic beliefs supposedly motivated by said grief but by Arthur’s--and by extension, the film’s-- “might makes right” tendencies. Arthur does not address pollution when the question is posited, he does not do anything more than brush it off when it addressed by Mera (“Sure, some idiots run the show.”), he doesn’t seem to care very much before the plot kicks into motion and he doesn’t seem to think about it anymore past that.
In Marvel Studios’ and Ryan Coogler’s Black Panther (to compare the film to another superhero blockbuster centered around the king of a fantastical land that came out not long before it), T’Challa becomes a diplomat, doing what he can to help the world beyond Wakanda; ultimately, the point is made that T’Challa is an empathetic intellectual as well as a good man, a good king, and a great warrior. Arthur wins the day mostly through brawn and instinct without thought. Arthur’s intellect proves irrelevant. He wins the day through brute force and an emotional appeal for the most part. Furthermore, on the subject of Black Panther, that film was very much an action picture. However, its action did not subvert its messaging..
In Aquaman, the action is hyper-stylized, over the top, and pops with electricity; it comes to mind as being, as a friend once stated, a live action 80s anime series. Its tone, on a visceral, experiential level, is the film’s greatest achievements. It is unabashedly sincere, unashamedly ridiculous, and remarkably brash; in this way, it is the sort of film the MCU could never really create. The world of Aquaman is filled with intensity of color, of performance, of movement, and it is that intensity that proves glorious. But this comes at the price of completely conflicting with the major point intended for the film; mercy.
It is mercilessness that (according to the film’s narrative) pushes Orm to fascistic behavior, it is mercilessness that creates Black Manta when Arthur kills his father, it is mercilessness that almost destroys humans and Atlanteans alike. It is mercy; the mercy of Arthur’s father, Thomas (Temuera Morrison, who was suggested by Jason Momoa himself) towards Atlanna that ultimately saves Atlantis years onward. Fittingly for a narrative and tone such as this, it is love and mercy that saves the day. And yet, the film’s violence, in all its intensity and showmanship, is really what’s necessary and somewhat fetishized.
Skulls are fractured and bodies are broken over an electric guitar riff before our hero, Arthur, is backlit as a savior, a king of violence. Arms are cut off and helmets are shattered to suffocate Atlantean soldiers as Mera fights Atlantean soldiers to the death; granted, in self defense, but with a smirk and a powerful bass line running beneath it; “look how cool!” the film seems to say. “Look how badass!”
“By bloodshed do the gods make known their will,” Arthur growls in a powerful stance, echoing Orm’s own words without irony as Arthur’s guitar riff thrums underneath once more; “look how cool!” Yes, Arthur ultimately spares his adversary, but the aesthetic of violence’s path towards that mercy revels in so much enjoyment with itself that it rings hollow, at least for me. The very fact that he repeats such words, the words of a monster, only emphasizes this problem further. For by bloodshed do Arthur and Mera make known their will.
It would not be as much of a problem (though I’d likely complain about it) if this violence were not conflicting with the themes it sets out. It would not be a problem if, perhaps, more of the narrative were centered less around said bloodshed and more around discovery and exploration as depicted in the section that emulates classic adventure films where Arthur and Mera trudge through the desert and explore underground ruins of Atlantis. It would not be a problem if the mind or the heart were placed at greater emphasis than they are in the final film.
In fact, the heart is placed most prominently in what is essentially the inciting incident of the film, when Arthur’s father saves Atlanna and takes her into his home; it is their relationship that, however briefly, serves as the root of most sincerity in the film. It is here where the movie wears its heart on its sleeve and smiles the most brightly; I could watch an entire film about a week in the life of Thomas Curry and Queen Atlanna starring these two actors; such is the sweetness of the first 6 minutes, proving somewhat intoxicating in its delight.
Unfortunately, it only highlights the film’s fatal flaw and encapsulates that which is worst with the film; the moment Atlantean soldiers come to take Atlanna, she takes her trident and brutally dispatches the soldiers as though they did not once serve under her. The film’s prior kindness and mercy is swiftly, painfully undercut through incredibly stylish (to an almost physically unexplainable degree) camera-work which frames shocking brutality, held back from an R rating through blue-tinted, inhuman blood. It is not that she is defending her husband and child but the manner in which this is framed that proves most jarring and emotionally conflicting. It is a tonal shift that is failed by its aesthetic.
“You’re right. I am a half-breed mongrel,” Arthur says to the Karathen, on his knees. “But I did not come here because I thought I was worthy. I know I’m not. [...] I’m nobody. I came because I had no choice. I came to save my home and the people that I love.” This moment is a genuinely great moment. It reveals Arthur’s insecurity, his love for others, and his bravery in the face of a creature that could dispose of him easily. However, when juxtaposed against Arthur’s persistent tendency towards violence and his, to be frank, simple-mindedness, it falls so much more flatly in context.
“You do your best thinking when you’re not thinking at all,” Mera says to Arthur among Atlantean ruins, a good allegory for the film itself; it is a film to see and feel and experience on a visceral level but upon further examination, its messaging does not hold up to scrutiny. For a film such as Michael Bay’s Transformers (take your pick), this matters not. But for a movie as sincere in its intention and atmosphere as Aquaman, it does matter.
Its mind is outsized by its heart and body; this is epitomized by a scene wherein Arthur and Mera kiss in the midst of war, colored explosions blowing like romantic fireworks in synchronization with the music, casualties guaranteed as they take the time to kiss. It is bombastic, audacious, and filled with sweeping emotion, the tempest called War casting its terrible shadow behind it.
For a film where mercy serves as the core of its themes, its cruelty can be great and exhibits a sort of jubilant irresponsibility in the face of that. It displays a more than decent understanding of the tone necessary for optimal enjoyment but to what end? Brute force, it seems.
The king of Atlantis forces his adversary to yield. “Mercy is not our way!” he shouts. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, brother…” he says, lowering his weapon. “But I’m not one of you.”
But Arthur…
…that is precisely what you are.
- The Songbird
