Cloud Atlas (2012 film) = Finished

This movie chosen by a "Fennelsher" patron.

The typical film epic structure is a bit of a downer, isn't it?

I'm thinking of the Boogie Nights and Beaches and Terms of Endearments of the world. You don't just watch these movies - you live in them. You commit to being in this place, with these people for an extended period of time. You feel like you're an actual part of these interweaving lives, and then it just...ends. Usually, on an oddly conclusive note. Even in cases where death isn't involved, there's this odd pain of separation when you walk away from this existence you've become accustomed to. Sometimes, you might even fear for the people you've come to care about, as you see the potential for consequences of actions committed to carry on to devastating effect. 

Cloud Atlas defies this structure on several levels. It is filled with death, depravity, and general unpleasantness, but somehow carries an absurd sense of optimism. The jump across not just film epic storylines, but timelines--entire realities of separation and drama and thought--is remarkably effective in passing on the film's existential view of the universe. This is a tale of absolute human unity and connection, told by having the actors assume different genders, skin tones, and sexual orientations, across a universe just close enough to our own to be eerie. There are so many ways this could be horribly problematic. I'd accuse it of naivete, if it didn't feel so damn sincere--and that sincerity carries it to the point of something close to success.

There's always another time, or life, or love in Cloud Atlas. Vignettes, and surprising ripples of someone's presence in the past, present, and future, constantly emerge throughout the movie. As a result, you don't get the signature film epic withdrawal, or even cynicism. This story doesn't end for anyone, per se, so you aren't truly separating from it. It could go on, and on, and on--and the message the film carries seems to whisper that you will as well. Infinite stories and lives, echoing into eternity.

It's weird.
It's really fricking weird.

I'm not sure if I like it--but I am pleasantly stunned it exists.

A three-hour epic can be...light.
How about that?