For a second, let's accept the theory that movies are designed as an escape from reality. Now, I don't actually buy this, and I could list a billion reasons why escapism as an overarching cinematic motivation is bogus. But for the purpose of discussing Assassination Nation, I think it's useful. Directed by Sam Levinson (son of director Barry Levinson), this Sundance conversation-starter is desperate to be current. It's always trying to prove its social relevance, whether through internal monologues, throwaway references, or even the very message of the whole damn thing. This is a movie that name-drops "Finsta" and ends with a kid saying "for the lulz." It doesn't just tap into the zeitgeist; it shoots you in the face with a machine gun blast of youth cred. I mean, the opening scene begins with a series of trigger warnings. It's so ridiculous.
The problem isn't that Assassination Nation fails in its quest for socio-cultural accuracy. The problem is that it's kinda successful at channeling the sheer obnoxiousness of living in the hellhole that is 2018. In fact, it almost feels more like a historical document than a movie. When historians look back at why everyone was so relentlessly mad during the mid-teens, they'll look at this movie and go "Ah. Okay." But if I wanted to spend two hours listening to people make philosophical statements about modern life and talk about urgent issues, I'd just go to my phone and pull up Twitter. I've lived through this crap. I've suffered the exhausting day-to-day madness of the internet. I see entirely too much of this to want to watch a movie dredge it all up for the sake of being edgy.
Because when you go beyond the hot topics, Assassination Nation is a film that really doesn't work. It may be a rallying cry, but there's no story here. My best rationale for Levinson's scattered narrative is that it's meant to reflect the non-existent attention spans of our modern era, where news moves so fast that it's easy to forget what happened 2 hours ago, let alone yesterday. But I may be projecting there just a little bit; I'm honestly not sure anything is intentional in this haphazard symphony of societal anger.
After the aforementioned trigger warnings and a strange little in media res opening, Levinson introduces us to the core quartet of teenage girls. Lily (Odessa Young) is the most important player, but she rarely goes anywhere without Bex (Hari Nef), Sarah (Suki Waterhouse), and Em (Abra) by her side. On an important note, Assassination Nation is set in the town of Salem, Massachusetts, in case you were worried that this movie might be subtle. Things really kick into gear when Mayor Bartlett's (Cullen Moss) personal information is hacked, distributed to the student body instantaneously. The anti-LGBT mayor is revealed to be a participant in "scandalous" activities, and he's subsequently shamed and shunned by the town. So he kills himself.
Okay, but forget about Bartlett, he's not the real story here. And I guess you really shouldn't worry too much about the kindly Principal Turrell (Colman Domingo) either. Even though he's accused of being a pedophile after his data is leaked, his story is quickly forgotten. No, chaos really arrives in Salem when half of the town's data goes online, kick-starting an impromptu civil war. Out of the core group of friends, Sarah and Em escape the hack unscathed, but Lily and Bex both suffer the effects of an invasion of privacy. Lily's sexting relationship with an older man (Joel McHale) is exposed, prompting her parents to kick her out, while Bex is hit with a bevy of transphobic comments for a hook-up with a football player. Oh, and Lily is blamed for the hack.
Then things really get out of hand. Assassination Nation is an exercise in escalation, ramping up its satirical and sociological stakes to an intentionally extreme degree. By the third act, the film becomes an absurd display of righteous bloodshed, designed as a stylistic example of a society gone rogue. Levinson proves to be an adept, even stellar director of action setpieces, best demonstrated by an extended tracking shot that momentarily brings the film to life. For all of its wicked edge in the content department, Assassination Nation rarely feels daring or innovative in terms of composition and form. When Levinson finally opts for a risky sequence shot, I felt truly captivated for the first time. Simultaneously, I wondered where that energy had been for the last 90 minutes.
Levinson has more talent as a filmmaker than as a writer, and that ends up being a crucial factor working against the film. As a cinematic depiction of hyperbolic chaos, the core idea of the story isn't too shabby. The internet is bad, a town goes wild, violence in the streets- it's all ripe for a strong satirical treatment. Yet Levinson never fully commits to his cracked-mirror presentation of America in the digital age; he keeps one foot in the realm of the absurd and the other in a world that feels surprisingly normal. Assassination Nation alternates between moments of emotional tenderness and outrageous hysteria, never fully adopting a singular tone.
From there, the film ends up in limbo. It's too silly and preposterous to feel truly grounded, but it's rooted in too much authenticity to ever click as a satire. Are we supposed to be taking all of this seriously? Should the broad statements made by the characters be interpreted as powerful manifestos on 21st century American life? Levinson nails the hyper-kinetic climate of social media, but he eventually finds himself stuck between meticulous observation and comic surrealism, which is something of an untenable position.
Plus, when your characters are all either one-dimensional ciphers or narrative devices, it's hard to justify these half-hearted attempts at humanity and pathos. None of the characters make logical or consistent choices, which seems to be a purposeful decision by Levinson. But why even try to humanize them in the first place? Assassination Nation is going for something wild and maybe even radical, but it doesn't quite have the conviction to totally shed its basis in what purports to be American reality.
In a number of ways, I recognize that this is a deeply weird thing to say about such an aggressive, explosively violent film. And to be honest, Levinson's love of cultural references and modern teenage angst will probably drive many viewers crazy. Yet when all's said and done, I'm not sure Assassination Nation successfully satirizes anything. It's definitely mad as hell and pissed off at everyone. But that's nothing new- we see it on the news every single day. So even if Levinson has a keen eye for reflecting both internet culture and post-Trump indignation, he doesn't actually add anything to the discourse over the course of this formless, messy descent into suburban hell.
Before I end this review, I want to focus on the conclusion of the film for a second. We learn the culprit of the hack, which pretty much everyone could have predicted from a mile away. When asked why they committed such a heinous act, they respond by saying "For the lulz." Essentially, this finale ends a swirling saga of hot-button issues with a misdirect and a punchline that doubles as something of a mic drop, one more shout-out to online culture. So I ask again, how seriously are we supposed to take any of this? I don't think Levinson knows. If it's a satire designed to push the envelope, why do the monologues seem to encourage a certain level of self-seriousness? And if it's a drama about what's really happening in America right now, why does Levinson seem to enjoy toying with his audience?
There are no answers to these questions. Yes, Assassination Nation is stretching for something ambitious, but it's ultimately just a very angry mess. In that regard, it might be the quintessential movie of 2018.
THE FINAL GRADE: C (5.4/10)
The problem isn't that Assassination Nation fails in its quest for socio-cultural accuracy. The problem is that it's kinda successful at channeling the sheer obnoxiousness of living in the hellhole that is 2018. In fact, it almost feels more like a historical document than a movie. When historians look back at why everyone was so relentlessly mad during the mid-teens, they'll look at this movie and go "Ah. Okay." But if I wanted to spend two hours listening to people make philosophical statements about modern life and talk about urgent issues, I'd just go to my phone and pull up Twitter. I've lived through this crap. I've suffered the exhausting day-to-day madness of the internet. I see entirely too much of this to want to watch a movie dredge it all up for the sake of being edgy.
Because when you go beyond the hot topics, Assassination Nation is a film that really doesn't work. It may be a rallying cry, but there's no story here. My best rationale for Levinson's scattered narrative is that it's meant to reflect the non-existent attention spans of our modern era, where news moves so fast that it's easy to forget what happened 2 hours ago, let alone yesterday. But I may be projecting there just a little bit; I'm honestly not sure anything is intentional in this haphazard symphony of societal anger.
After the aforementioned trigger warnings and a strange little in media res opening, Levinson introduces us to the core quartet of teenage girls. Lily (Odessa Young) is the most important player, but she rarely goes anywhere without Bex (Hari Nef), Sarah (Suki Waterhouse), and Em (Abra) by her side. On an important note, Assassination Nation is set in the town of Salem, Massachusetts, in case you were worried that this movie might be subtle. Things really kick into gear when Mayor Bartlett's (Cullen Moss) personal information is hacked, distributed to the student body instantaneously. The anti-LGBT mayor is revealed to be a participant in "scandalous" activities, and he's subsequently shamed and shunned by the town. So he kills himself.
Okay, but forget about Bartlett, he's not the real story here. And I guess you really shouldn't worry too much about the kindly Principal Turrell (Colman Domingo) either. Even though he's accused of being a pedophile after his data is leaked, his story is quickly forgotten. No, chaos really arrives in Salem when half of the town's data goes online, kick-starting an impromptu civil war. Out of the core group of friends, Sarah and Em escape the hack unscathed, but Lily and Bex both suffer the effects of an invasion of privacy. Lily's sexting relationship with an older man (Joel McHale) is exposed, prompting her parents to kick her out, while Bex is hit with a bevy of transphobic comments for a hook-up with a football player. Oh, and Lily is blamed for the hack.
Then things really get out of hand. Assassination Nation is an exercise in escalation, ramping up its satirical and sociological stakes to an intentionally extreme degree. By the third act, the film becomes an absurd display of righteous bloodshed, designed as a stylistic example of a society gone rogue. Levinson proves to be an adept, even stellar director of action setpieces, best demonstrated by an extended tracking shot that momentarily brings the film to life. For all of its wicked edge in the content department, Assassination Nation rarely feels daring or innovative in terms of composition and form. When Levinson finally opts for a risky sequence shot, I felt truly captivated for the first time. Simultaneously, I wondered where that energy had been for the last 90 minutes.
Levinson has more talent as a filmmaker than as a writer, and that ends up being a crucial factor working against the film. As a cinematic depiction of hyperbolic chaos, the core idea of the story isn't too shabby. The internet is bad, a town goes wild, violence in the streets- it's all ripe for a strong satirical treatment. Yet Levinson never fully commits to his cracked-mirror presentation of America in the digital age; he keeps one foot in the realm of the absurd and the other in a world that feels surprisingly normal. Assassination Nation alternates between moments of emotional tenderness and outrageous hysteria, never fully adopting a singular tone.
From there, the film ends up in limbo. It's too silly and preposterous to feel truly grounded, but it's rooted in too much authenticity to ever click as a satire. Are we supposed to be taking all of this seriously? Should the broad statements made by the characters be interpreted as powerful manifestos on 21st century American life? Levinson nails the hyper-kinetic climate of social media, but he eventually finds himself stuck between meticulous observation and comic surrealism, which is something of an untenable position.
Plus, when your characters are all either one-dimensional ciphers or narrative devices, it's hard to justify these half-hearted attempts at humanity and pathos. None of the characters make logical or consistent choices, which seems to be a purposeful decision by Levinson. But why even try to humanize them in the first place? Assassination Nation is going for something wild and maybe even radical, but it doesn't quite have the conviction to totally shed its basis in what purports to be American reality.
In a number of ways, I recognize that this is a deeply weird thing to say about such an aggressive, explosively violent film. And to be honest, Levinson's love of cultural references and modern teenage angst will probably drive many viewers crazy. Yet when all's said and done, I'm not sure Assassination Nation successfully satirizes anything. It's definitely mad as hell and pissed off at everyone. But that's nothing new- we see it on the news every single day. So even if Levinson has a keen eye for reflecting both internet culture and post-Trump indignation, he doesn't actually add anything to the discourse over the course of this formless, messy descent into suburban hell.
Before I end this review, I want to focus on the conclusion of the film for a second. We learn the culprit of the hack, which pretty much everyone could have predicted from a mile away. When asked why they committed such a heinous act, they respond by saying "For the lulz." Essentially, this finale ends a swirling saga of hot-button issues with a misdirect and a punchline that doubles as something of a mic drop, one more shout-out to online culture. So I ask again, how seriously are we supposed to take any of this? I don't think Levinson knows. If it's a satire designed to push the envelope, why do the monologues seem to encourage a certain level of self-seriousness? And if it's a drama about what's really happening in America right now, why does Levinson seem to enjoy toying with his audience?
There are no answers to these questions. Yes, Assassination Nation is stretching for something ambitious, but it's ultimately just a very angry mess. In that regard, it might be the quintessential movie of 2018.
THE FINAL GRADE: C (5.4/10)
Comments
Post a Comment