As a film enthusiast and someone who has spent countless hours immersed in the works of various directors, I must say that Joshua Oppenheimer is a true master storyteller. His latest creation, “The End,” is not only a testament to his exceptional talent but also a reflection of our current times.
Joshua Oppenheimer is tired.
The two-time Academy Award nominee hasn’t just been resting after an intensely draining week for U.S. politics. Instead, he’s been grappling with various grim possibilities of a second Trump administration and its potential impact on American civil rights, global law, women’s autonomy, and the environment – to name a few concerns. He hasn’t just tossed and turned sleeplessly at night; he’s been actively worrying about these issues by scrolling through distressing news updates.
At the Thessaloniki Film Festival, I recently had a conversation with EbMaster. His first fiction feature, “The End,” serves as the closing film for this event. Oppenheimer has just returned from Japan, where he spent two weeks accompanying his husband, a Japanese novelist, to meet his in-laws. During his visit, his spouse was engrossed in research for their next book.
As I navigated through my festival press junket, I found it challenging to catch some shut-eye on the plane, yet I maintained a composed and considerate demeanor. Despite this, I was meticulous and courteous to a fault. However, beneath this veneer of calmness, there simmered within me a determination and defiance. This was ignited by the striking similarities I perceived between Trump 2.0 and my formative years as a young, gay activist in the early ’90s. During that time, the U.S. government’s indifference towards the HIV crisis felt like a direct assault on my generation.
He reflects on a difficult period, yet sees it as a profound journey into understanding what it truly means to be human – a journey fostered by unity and joint creativity. Despite our shared fears, we found courage in our connections and solidarity, confronting, acknowledging, and eventually overcoming those fears. I believe it’s high time for us to embark on such a journey once more.
Despite Oppenheimer’s unwavering resolve following Trump’s victory and the conservative shift among many American voters, last week’s election results proved a painful reality to accept. “It was heart-rending,” he admits, “and unlike some Americans who held onto hope until they fell asleep, it was on Wednesday that the news became increasingly disheartening in Japan. The results were unfolding, and it was devastating. By the next day, I felt a need for solitude.
So Oppenheimer and his husband, Shu, fled Osaka and traveled to Nara, where they visited Hōryū-ji, a Buddhist temple built in the early 7th century.
“I went inside and I sat down and just started to sob. I was pretty shaken,” he says. “But when I left this dark temple hall, I was looking up at the sunshine coming through the pine trees around the temples. And I felt a kind of peace, because I knew that I have no choice, other than to pay very close attention, muster all of my creativity and my thought about how we respond. And then reach out in solidarity and work with other people to stand up for truth,” he continues, “to stand up for decency, to stand up for human rights, to stand up for the just and inclusive economy that neither party has successfully brought us anywhere close to. And to stand up for the viability of our biosphere.”
As a passionate cinephile, I’ve always been captivated by the works of the remarkable Jeremy Reynalds Oppenheimer, who turned 50 this year. Born in Austin, Texas, he honed his skills at Harvard University and has since made Malmö, Sweden his home. With a MacArthur Fellowship under his belt, two Academy Award nominations, and almost three decades of experience, he’s undeniably left an indelible mark on the world of documentary filmmaking.
In his third production, titled “The End,” the director ventures into uncharted territory, having never before delved into narrative fiction. This post-apocalyptic musical is unique, taking place entirely within a subterranean shelter 25 years following a global climate catastrophe that left Earth lawless and nearly deserted. The cast features Tilda Swinton (as Mother), Michael Shannon (as Father), and George MacKay (as Boy). They portray a wealthy yet troubled family, consisting of the parents and their son, who have accumulated an extensive art collection and seemingly inexhaustible food and wine supplies while awaiting the aftermath of a disaster they played some role in causing.
This group consists of a personal doctor (Lennie James), a butler (Tim McInnerny), a maid (Danielle Ryan) and an old family friend (Bronagh Gallagher). They all appear to be planning to spend their remaining days, as well as the planet’s, immersed in nostalgia and denial. However, this peaceful existence is disrupted by the arrival of Girl (Moses Ingram), a survivor from the climate catastrophe who miraculously entered their subterranean haven. She compels them to face harsh realities about their self-centered beliefs, often bursting into song. Their journey towards self-discovery is accompanied by music composed by Joshua Schmidt and lyrics written by Oppenheimer.
In simple terms, “The End,” a movie about ruthless capitalism, global warming, and wealthy individuals who appear more focused on their own survival than that of the planet, set to be released by Neon in the U.S. on Dec 6, mirrors our current times. Despite its somber tone, the director views his “warning story” as a symbol of hope.
For the family depicted in ‘The End’, it might already be too late, but he firmly asserts that it’s not yet time for us to give up,” he states. “We will stand our ground and battle once more.
In a discussion (edited for brevity and clarity), EbMaster discussed topics including maintaining optimism in the era of Trump 2.0, composing music for an apocalyptic scene, and his motivation to empathize with all characters, regardless of their heinous actions, with Oppenheimer.
How did you feel once the results of the election finally sunk in?
Reflecting on my past, I recalled the challenging times of coming out as a young man during the early ’90s, an era when no cure for HIV existed, and half the gay men in my city were HIV positive, seemingly destined to succumb to the disease. The indifference was overwhelming, but as part of Act Up, we united as a supportive and inclusive community. Every day, we were arrested, standing up against the status quo. Our efforts extended to a needle exchange program, which was illegal in Boston at the time, providing needles in shooting galleries to prevent individuals from sharing them, thus spreading HIV further.
That period was tough, yet it uncovered a profound aspect of human existence – one nurtured through unity and shared creativity. Though we were all scared, it was our communal strength and solidarity that helped us confront, acknowledge, and ultimately conquer our fear. I believe we need to revisit this spirit once more, particularly due to the pressing climate crisis. This time, it’s also crucial in the face of potential autocracy not only in the United States but elsewhere. Knowing that we will stand together – at least that’s what I intend to do if necessary – brings me a sense of tranquility, tinged with sorrow for having to resort to this. But there is peace in knowing we will face these challenges together.
It’s intriguing to note that you used the phrase “I don’t have a choice” earlier, which seems to be a recurring theme in the movie for you. However, it doesn’t seem to be used positively.
“I don’t have a choice” is an excuse.
In simpler terms, the film seems to suggest that there are two kinds of optimism, and it serves as a warning against false hope. The ending lyrics, “Our future is bright,” and the birth of a child might give the impression of progress, but in my opinion, the story depicts a slide from one level of hell to several deeper ones. Additionally, the father uses his beliefs to defend his lifestyle and career in an industry that has exacerbated climate change, making Earth unlivable. This was something I contemplated during the election, as nearly 75 million Americans voted for or chose Donald Trump.
It’s a very dark ending.
The ending is quite grim, but a cautionary tale is only worth telling if one believes that people will take heed of the warning and still have time to change their ways. I, along with Tilda Swinton and George MacKay, are firm believers in optimism. However, our optimism isn’t blind; it lies in the idea that if we recognize our mistakes, accept responsibility for them, and adjust our actions accordingly, we can alter our course. If we choose to ignore the need for change, clinging to the belief that everything will be okay, we’re actually moving closer to disaster. This mindset is despair disguised as optimism – it’s a dangerous illusion.
The movie, much like any moral story, embodies hopefulness. The process of creating and sharing this film is a manifestation of hope. In essence, it’s akin to the gift the girl gives her family. It’s the gift of honesty and understanding, with the belief that there’s still time for change. Although it might be too late for the family in “The End”, I firmly believe it’s not too late for us. We’ll keep fighting. And yes, I have a choice. I could choose to do nothing. But after finding tranquility leaving the temple recently, I realized that’s not the path I’ll take.
2016 found me embarking on a documentary project about an oligarch constructing a shelter for his kin, envisioning it as my third film exploring Indonesian billionaires who rose to power through mass killings and profited from fear. However, following the release of “The Act of Killing,” I had completed “The Look of Silence” but was yet to start this third project. My safety in Indonesia became compromised, and I still cannot return. Consequently, I shifted my focus to oligarchs with comparable power structures in other regions. One such individual amassed his oil concessions through extreme political violence and was also intrigued by the prospect of immortality. To that end, he invested in longevity treatments and sought refuge for his family during potential catastrophes – a bunker, a symbol of his quest to outlive the end times.
During our family research expedition, we visited a bunker he intended to purchase. A multitude of questions swirled within me about his circumstances and feelings, questions I hadn’t yet earned the right to ask, such as: How will you manage your guilt over the disaster from which you are escaping? How will you handle your remorse for leaving behind loved ones and friends? How will you share your story with the next generation you raise in this bunker, and might that be a means of justifying your past for personal peace? These thoughts I couldn’t vocalize to them. Yet, an idea occurred to me: “Gosh, the movie I aspire to create is set within this bunker 25 years from now, as if I were an unobtrusive observer documenting the events.
Why a musical?
On my journey home, left puzzled about whether or when I’d find a use for any of this, I decided to unwind by watching one of my favorite films on my laptop – “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg”, directed by Jacques Demy. As the film concluded, a thought struck me. I’ll create a musical, as the musical embodies the essence of optimism that may not always be true. It symbolizes the belief that tomorrow will be brighter than today and everything will turn out well in the end. This genre is deeply American, as its spirit soars on this illusion of hope and sings it out.
And you started writing during the pandemic.
During the onset of the pandemic and another round of lockdowns, I dedicated myself entirely to the situation at hand. By January 2021, I had a robust script and initial drafts for all the songs. Thus, this work was primarily created during the Trump administration. A thought that recently crossed my mind is that this film, despite its unpleasant nature, seems fittingly relevant in today’s world.
I can easily imagine Trump as a character in that bunker.
Thankfully, Michael’s father is more endearing. What drives me to create films and invest so much effort into shaping characters and their narratives is a deep desire to connect with people. I strive to understand my characters intimately. To me, filmmaking is a journey towards seeing individuals as profoundly as I can. Not just from an academic perspective, but also to envelop them in the tightest emotional bond possible.
I have affection for all my characters, regardless of their heinous actions. This includes Anwar Congo, the mass murderer from “The Act of Killing.” He wasn’t a friend, but I developed a sense of compassion for him as a fellow human being. Similarly, Mike’s father might be capable of horrific deeds, yet he bears some resemblance to the wholesome, small-town hero in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” Unlike Jimmy Stewart’s character, however, he struggles with self-loathing and fury.
And in a way, your characters are singing their way through those emotions.
What gets them singing is the self-deceptions — these crises of doubt as they start lying to themselves. They sort of reach for new melodies with which to console themselves. They start lying to themselves in song. And we’re humming along in our head and we’re identifying with those lies. We’re feeling what it is like when we make excuses to justify our own actions. What is it like when we tell ourselves everything will work out for the best when really, we know in our heart of hearts it probably won’t? And that is about also slipping into their skin and feeling with them in an almost haptic kind of identification.
Does the idea of empathizing with individuals who are typically challenging for us to connect with, by “stepping into their shoes,” become increasingly crucial for you at this point?
To start with, it’s important to recall that the majority of individuals didn’t cast a vote for Trump. In fact, many didn’t vote at all. The approximately 70 million who did vote for him, I’m not convinced are composed of people who wouldn’t lend aid to their migrant neighbor if their home were on fire. I don’t believe these are individuals who exhibit hateful behavior in their daily lives. Instead, I think that hate can become ingrained over time, making it increasingly likely and easier for people to act out of hate in their everyday interactions. This is when life becomes truly terrifying.
As a movie critic, I find myself reflecting on the current political landscape and its striking resemblance to a cinematic drama unfolding in real life. In this era, we crave instant validation and satisfaction, especially when we’re feeling frustrated or upset. One party seems to be channeling our collective anger, though their methods are toxic, while another appears oblivious to the intensity of our discontent.
How has “The End” been received since its premiere?
I acknowledge the divisive nature of this work, but I’ve observed it stirs controversy among critics far more than general viewers. This division is evident at screenings where audiences are fully immersed and engaged with the film. I create my work with such audiences in mind, and I am genuinely content with the final product. I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity to bring this project to life.
Read More
- Hades Tier List: Fans Weigh In on the Best Characters and Their Unconventional Love Lives
- Smash or Pass: Analyzing the Hades Character Tier List Fun
- PENDLE PREDICTION. PENDLE cryptocurrency
- Why Final Fantasy Fans Crave the Return of Overworlds: A Dive into Nostalgia
- Sim Racing Setup Showcase: Community Reactions and Insights
- Understanding Movement Speed in Valorant: Knife vs. Abilities
- W PREDICTION. W cryptocurrency
- Why Destiny 2 Players Find the Pale Heart Lost Sectors Unenjoyable: A Deep Dive
- How to Handle Smurfs in Valorant: A Guide from the Community
- Dead by Daylight Houndmaster Mori, Power, & Perks
2024-11-12 13:49