Everything about Mute feels so weird. From the unusual silence around the project for months to the sudden release by Netflix, the latest film from director Duncan Jones has been unconventional in every sense of the word. And in a way, that fits the film itself- Mute is a strange, unruly creation. Long considered to be a passion project for Jones, the Blade Runner-inspired sci-fi story seemed to be a return to form for the director after the crushing disappointment of Warcraft, the first critical failure for the cult filmmaker (it really isn't that bad). However, Mute has received a chilly reception from both fans and critics, with some even labeling it as Jones' worst film yet. And when you watch the film, all of the non-existent marketing and negative buzz makes much more sense. Netflix knew that this would be a difficult, maybe even impossible sell, so they held it close to the vest and dropped it on a weekend when most sci-fi fans would venture to theaters for Alex Garland's far superior Annihilation.
From start to finish, Mute is an absolute tonal scramble, a film that is in turns shockingly violent and absurdly funny, emotional and farcical, grim and wondrous. It seemingly has no narrative clarity for much of its runtime, until it takes a turn that gives it just a little bit of momentum. It's a gorgeous example of world-building, equipped with a blend of dark and futuristic neon lights and splashy consumerism. But while the production design clearly comes from a place of passion for Jones, it's impossible to crack what this story is trying to say on any level. Alexander Skarsgard holds the movie together with his sensitive, tender performance for as long as he can, but the aimless, immensely frustrating nature of the film eventually catches up with it. While Mute isn't nearly as awful as you've heard, it remains something of a strange case study, a fascinating example of a filmmaker given total creative freedom and failing to do much with it.
Set in a futuristic Berlin, Mute follows Leo (Skarsgard), a bartender from an Amish family who lost his ability to speak after a childhood accident. Leo is in love with Naadirah (Seyneb Saleh), a beautiful and kind woman who works as a waitress in Leo's bar. But there's something mysterious about Naadirah as well, and one night, she simply disappears. Leo is devastated, and he has no clue what happened to her. Eventually, he pieces together a few clues that lead to a tangled web of undesirables, eventually connecting to the other main players in this story- Cactus Bill (Paul Rudd) and Duck (Justin Theroux), two underground surgeons with violent associates. Bill is desperately trying to get out of Berlin with his daughter, while Duck is a pedophile who targets young girls through his medical practice. As the two story threads collide, questions will be answered and the mystery of Naadirah's disappearance will be seen in a whole new light.
Mute is a thousand interesting movies shoved into a mostly uninteresting one. This is the fundamental conundrum of Jones' latest movie. From a technical perspective, Mute is a wonder, a gorgeous mixture of kinetic innovation and dark and seedy urban landscapes. Gavin Bocquet's production design work is a marvel, and Gary Shaw's cinematography isn't half-bad either. The film is colorful and often totally bonkers, with something new and unusual lying around every corner. The visuals keep Mute compelling even as the story fails to ignite much interest. It's impossible to say that the film goes off the rails, simply because I don't think it was ever really on the tracks to begin with. Until Leo's journey completely and totally comes into contact with Bill and Duck, the movie is a floundering mess. The storytelling is remarkably muddled, and even the design elements are undermined by the fact that Jones can't decide if he's making Blade Runner or Brazil.
By the time Mute reaches its final act (which features maybe the most needlessly disgusting cinematic murder in recent memory), the narrative has a bit more weight to it. Jones' ambition becomes clear, and the emotional beats pop up in fascinating ways. But the film still struggles to reach an ending, and Jones is never able to fully overcome the convoluted noir plot and tonal mishmash that leads to the finale. Much of the film is put on Alexander Skarsgard's shoulders, which is difficult considering that he doesn't speak a word for 95% of the runtime. However, his expressive and gentle performance towers over the rest of the cast, which is filled with characters that feel both hammy and ill-conceived. As much as Jones tries to render Bill and Duck as complex, nuanced individuals, Rudd and Theroux just aren't up the task.
Mute's sense of visual pizzazz makes it an intermittently amusing watch, but its painfully strange story and choppy script do it no favors. Even with failures like this and Warcraft, Jones has demonstrated that he's one of the best young filmmakers when it comes to world-building. I know that term gets a bad rap, but it's a crucial aspect of sci-fi and fantasy films. The world of Mute feels real and lived-in, and in a better scenario, I would have been clamoring for more adventures in this universe. But the story here is so weak that the film never takes off, and it's so frustrating that Jones wastes a lot of potential on something that feels half-baked at best. Mute is another big swing from a filmmaker who continues to take risks, and in an increasingly safe Hollywood landscape, that's always worth commending.
If only the final product itself lived up to the ambition.
Set in a futuristic Berlin, Mute follows Leo (Skarsgard), a bartender from an Amish family who lost his ability to speak after a childhood accident. Leo is in love with Naadirah (Seyneb Saleh), a beautiful and kind woman who works as a waitress in Leo's bar. But there's something mysterious about Naadirah as well, and one night, she simply disappears. Leo is devastated, and he has no clue what happened to her. Eventually, he pieces together a few clues that lead to a tangled web of undesirables, eventually connecting to the other main players in this story- Cactus Bill (Paul Rudd) and Duck (Justin Theroux), two underground surgeons with violent associates. Bill is desperately trying to get out of Berlin with his daughter, while Duck is a pedophile who targets young girls through his medical practice. As the two story threads collide, questions will be answered and the mystery of Naadirah's disappearance will be seen in a whole new light.
Mute is a thousand interesting movies shoved into a mostly uninteresting one. This is the fundamental conundrum of Jones' latest movie. From a technical perspective, Mute is a wonder, a gorgeous mixture of kinetic innovation and dark and seedy urban landscapes. Gavin Bocquet's production design work is a marvel, and Gary Shaw's cinematography isn't half-bad either. The film is colorful and often totally bonkers, with something new and unusual lying around every corner. The visuals keep Mute compelling even as the story fails to ignite much interest. It's impossible to say that the film goes off the rails, simply because I don't think it was ever really on the tracks to begin with. Until Leo's journey completely and totally comes into contact with Bill and Duck, the movie is a floundering mess. The storytelling is remarkably muddled, and even the design elements are undermined by the fact that Jones can't decide if he's making Blade Runner or Brazil.
By the time Mute reaches its final act (which features maybe the most needlessly disgusting cinematic murder in recent memory), the narrative has a bit more weight to it. Jones' ambition becomes clear, and the emotional beats pop up in fascinating ways. But the film still struggles to reach an ending, and Jones is never able to fully overcome the convoluted noir plot and tonal mishmash that leads to the finale. Much of the film is put on Alexander Skarsgard's shoulders, which is difficult considering that he doesn't speak a word for 95% of the runtime. However, his expressive and gentle performance towers over the rest of the cast, which is filled with characters that feel both hammy and ill-conceived. As much as Jones tries to render Bill and Duck as complex, nuanced individuals, Rudd and Theroux just aren't up the task.
Mute's sense of visual pizzazz makes it an intermittently amusing watch, but its painfully strange story and choppy script do it no favors. Even with failures like this and Warcraft, Jones has demonstrated that he's one of the best young filmmakers when it comes to world-building. I know that term gets a bad rap, but it's a crucial aspect of sci-fi and fantasy films. The world of Mute feels real and lived-in, and in a better scenario, I would have been clamoring for more adventures in this universe. But the story here is so weak that the film never takes off, and it's so frustrating that Jones wastes a lot of potential on something that feels half-baked at best. Mute is another big swing from a filmmaker who continues to take risks, and in an increasingly safe Hollywood landscape, that's always worth commending.
If only the final product itself lived up to the ambition.
THE FINAL GRADE: C (5.6/10)
Images courtesy of Netflix
Images courtesy of Netflix
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