
Aronofsky's Mother.
This film is highly pyrrhic in its intent. It sells its message so desperately by resorting to shock and distress that the main thing that my memory recollect of it is distress.
Mother is sick and terribly sickening
and I wished I didn't have anything else to say about this movie, but to my own regret, I have. This film is deliberately and self indulgently sickening. It is not the kind of "sickening" that might look for redemption or spiritual reconciliation. It is the kind of sickening that its author wants you to get used to or simply be shamelessly procrastinated about.
This is a film that tries too hard to spit on your face the blood and flesh of suffering of the human condition. It does it using the same worn out insolent narrative of victimization (Women-Mother Earth) and perpetrator (Men-God) of today's identity politics groups, particularly feminists.
Aronofsky's vision of the creative process (the poet in the film, but also the dancer in the Black Swan and the math prodigy in Pi) is one of disturbing alienation and deep sickening state in order to bring Art to human enlightenment.
This is not an alienation of an individual in conflict with society or with the world around. It is an alienation to simultaneously indulge in and feel disgusted about.
Aronofsky's alienation is the inevitable force of the creative process or, at least, this is the vision he so painstakingly has tried to deliver in most of his films.
To me, he self indulgently justifies the deranged nature of creativity and fails miserably to put it in historical context.
Creativity is not all sweet and cozy, but it doesn't necessarily have to come from Aronofsky's artsy sinister overtones.
The feminine from mother earth is far stronger than the victimhood feminist propaganda the director portraits.
Earth is feminine and the sky is masculine. I left this movie resisting the insidious underlying hatred towards men this film underpinnings.

