I'd been hearing mixed things about 'Natural Born Killers' over the years. Either it was an awe-inspiring, bracing social satire that deftly explores the relationship between real-life violence and the juicy spin put on it by the media, or just about the most amoral, unbearable, mind-numbingly brutal exercise in senseless killing ever applied to film reel. Needless to say, it turned out to be one of those movies that didn't quite live up to either side of its press.
On the one hand, Oliver Stone has certainly crafted an extremely well-made and visually arresting piece of film-making a mind-bending montage of black and white camera work, animation, wildlife photography, freeze frame slow motion and outré imagery that comes lunging straight at you, and has you helplessly dissolving in this ferocious joy ride of a movie. And his eye for media complexion is equally a sharp one, lampooning everything from newscasts to sitcoms, and creating many an unforgettable moment in the process (not to mention landing a devilishly effective cameo for Rodney Dangerfield). Superficially, it all packs quite a nerve-jangling punch. Only when you start rooting around for the real purpose underneath all this sensation is the true extent of its genius called into question. Let's bear in mind that it is, after all, a lavish exploitation of media violence, out to demonstrate how the media exploits, and inadvertently glamorises, violence for the sake of sensation and this, it would seem, is where the line between its admirers and its attackers is usually drawn. Call it a work of pure ironic genius or the most shameless hypocrisy of the 20th Century - either way, Stone approaches it with an exceedingly heavy-hand, and the moral undertones are never developed quite strongly enough to atone for just how disturbing and unpleasant this rampage can become at times (the scene where the young couple of killers on the run hold a teenage hostage gagged and bound in their hotel room, for example, is utterly nightmarish but while Stone never glamorises these actions exactly, he doesn't really do a great deal to condemn them either).
The morals themselves are rather mixed and muddled the major aim is supposedly to reveal how society is, in some way or other, completely to blame for the crime that imperils it. And yet, Mickey's finest moment, in the context of the movie anyway, comes through proudly declaring that his homicidal impulses are entirely innate and he shouldn't be forced to curb them (is the title intended as ironic or isn't it? Who could tell from how this movie goes...). Above all, it fails to turn either Mickey or Mallory into likable, sympathetic characters we can genuinely root for, and thus blunders head-first in its objective mission to have us side with the serial killers. After all, would that not have proved its very point, that the media, even in the form of this flick we're currently watching, has the power to desensitise us to violence? Instead, Stone launches his attack from the opposite end, by making everyone who opposes Mickey and Mallory into domineering monsters in their own right, and seemingly justifying Mickey's claim that everybody else in the world, with one stereotypical exception, has done something they deserve to die for. The later scenes in particular seem determined to prove that the murderous protagonists are actually fighting a perfectly righteous cause, by heeding their in-built urges and, in the process, turn the film into a self-consuming moral mess, one that's lost track of exactly what it was it originally set out to say. As I said, we do get caught up in the movie, but thanks mainly to the artificial touches that it is, the visuals and the soundtrack, which are mesmerising, but not enough to veil just how repulsive the endless acts of brutality really are, or keep us from wondering why Stone isn't doing more revile them. By the time the movie starts looking smugly down on us for our part in (or so it assumes) kicking back and enjoying the story, we're far too dazed and worn out to care.
In the end, I guess the only whole-hearted way to enjoy 'Natural Born Killers' would be to detach your mind beforehand and leave the entertainment value to wash you over, which, strangely enough, is exactly the viewpoint it's supposed to be countering. It was a wildly ambitious project, and to some degree I admire Stone's headstrongness for undertaking it in the first place. Sadly, the results of his labours is, in this case, a technically impressive misfire and, whatever the disputes that went on between them over this movie, the long and the short of it is that this isn't the most flattering example to feature either Oliver Stone or Quentin Tarantino's (two otherwise fine screenwriters/directors) name in the credits. Like most rides gone out of control, it's hugely exhilarating, but hugely nauseating too.
Grade: B-
On the one hand, Oliver Stone has certainly crafted an extremely well-made and visually arresting piece of film-making a mind-bending montage of black and white camera work, animation, wildlife photography, freeze frame slow motion and outré imagery that comes lunging straight at you, and has you helplessly dissolving in this ferocious joy ride of a movie. And his eye for media complexion is equally a sharp one, lampooning everything from newscasts to sitcoms, and creating many an unforgettable moment in the process (not to mention landing a devilishly effective cameo for Rodney Dangerfield). Superficially, it all packs quite a nerve-jangling punch. Only when you start rooting around for the real purpose underneath all this sensation is the true extent of its genius called into question. Let's bear in mind that it is, after all, a lavish exploitation of media violence, out to demonstrate how the media exploits, and inadvertently glamorises, violence for the sake of sensation and this, it would seem, is where the line between its admirers and its attackers is usually drawn. Call it a work of pure ironic genius or the most shameless hypocrisy of the 20th Century - either way, Stone approaches it with an exceedingly heavy-hand, and the moral undertones are never developed quite strongly enough to atone for just how disturbing and unpleasant this rampage can become at times (the scene where the young couple of killers on the run hold a teenage hostage gagged and bound in their hotel room, for example, is utterly nightmarish but while Stone never glamorises these actions exactly, he doesn't really do a great deal to condemn them either).
The morals themselves are rather mixed and muddled the major aim is supposedly to reveal how society is, in some way or other, completely to blame for the crime that imperils it. And yet, Mickey's finest moment, in the context of the movie anyway, comes through proudly declaring that his homicidal impulses are entirely innate and he shouldn't be forced to curb them (is the title intended as ironic or isn't it? Who could tell from how this movie goes...). Above all, it fails to turn either Mickey or Mallory into likable, sympathetic characters we can genuinely root for, and thus blunders head-first in its objective mission to have us side with the serial killers. After all, would that not have proved its very point, that the media, even in the form of this flick we're currently watching, has the power to desensitise us to violence? Instead, Stone launches his attack from the opposite end, by making everyone who opposes Mickey and Mallory into domineering monsters in their own right, and seemingly justifying Mickey's claim that everybody else in the world, with one stereotypical exception, has done something they deserve to die for. The later scenes in particular seem determined to prove that the murderous protagonists are actually fighting a perfectly righteous cause, by heeding their in-built urges and, in the process, turn the film into a self-consuming moral mess, one that's lost track of exactly what it was it originally set out to say. As I said, we do get caught up in the movie, but thanks mainly to the artificial touches that it is, the visuals and the soundtrack, which are mesmerising, but not enough to veil just how repulsive the endless acts of brutality really are, or keep us from wondering why Stone isn't doing more revile them. By the time the movie starts looking smugly down on us for our part in (or so it assumes) kicking back and enjoying the story, we're far too dazed and worn out to care.
In the end, I guess the only whole-hearted way to enjoy 'Natural Born Killers' would be to detach your mind beforehand and leave the entertainment value to wash you over, which, strangely enough, is exactly the viewpoint it's supposed to be countering. It was a wildly ambitious project, and to some degree I admire Stone's headstrongness for undertaking it in the first place. Sadly, the results of his labours is, in this case, a technically impressive misfire and, whatever the disputes that went on between them over this movie, the long and the short of it is that this isn't the most flattering example to feature either Oliver Stone or Quentin Tarantino's (two otherwise fine screenwriters/directors) name in the credits. Like most rides gone out of control, it's hugely exhilarating, but hugely nauseating too.
Grade: B-