Serenity

Something strange, something not quite right, in Serenity's opening moments.

Throughout the first half of the film.

There's a vague concealed derelict somnambulistic longing haunting social relations in the beginning, like a prolonged robot hangover that's been nauseously programmed.

Disaffection, I kept thinking, I'm bound to hear the word "surreal" used to describe this film, as if its otherworldliness is a product of subconscious reckoning, as opposed to a McFlurry saturated with kalúha.

That sounds good.

But you could use the word surreal to describe it, as it progresses, in the commercial sense, like you would use it if you were still caught up in the mainstream, still unfamiliar with less traditional surrealistic applications.

Boldly crafting alternative traditions of their own.

The surrealism becomes more pronounced and less McDreamy after down-on-his-luck fisherperson Baker Dill (Matthew McConaughey) is tasked with murdering his ex-wife's (Anne Hathaway as Karen Zariakas) utterly loathsome new husband (Jason Clarke as Frank Zariakas) to the tune of a vindictive 10 million.

It's not just that though, there's something else, something more subtle, more puzzling, more disorienting, more real.

Or surreal I suppose. 😉

A salesperson (Jeremy Strong as Reid Miller) shows up with the kind of clarification that doesn't prove or explain anything yet still shuffles the narrative off to different directions, a clever intriguingly frustrating device often used on shows like Twin Peaks or The X-Files, that keeps you genuinely desiring more even if the obscurity leaves you wanting.

The resultant delirium is quite surreal as an identity transformation bewilderingly transcends without any loss of the hermetic I.

The anxiety harrowingly increases at both conscious and unconscious levels as Baker continues to act under extreme existential duress.

The film's uninspiring first half is justified as an experimental work in progress, whose author was still crafting his own remarkable tensions, the film as a whole perhaps meant to metaphorically present a film lover's growth, as they start looking beyond commercial horizons to something less pronounced and material.

It's a strong synthesis of the blasé and the risk-fuelled that comments upon these concepts without saying anything, a mind-meld of the traditional and the experimental that effectively synergizes hesitant abandon.

Looking forward to seeing more of what Steven Knight has to offer.

I'm reminded of Tarsem Singh.

Not sure as to why.