Keanen's Film Blog

The core of the film is the star traveling to his haircut. He knows a barber that gives a certain honest kind of haircut that he can’t find on his end of town, and not even riots nor the president’s motorcade will stop him from getting that haircut. Because he’s Robert Pattinson.

It all sounds familiar, doesn’t it? You might think (as people often do) that Cronenberg saw the future, but in this case, the film was based on a 2003 novel. I can’t speak for the book, but the film is worth watching, and then watching again, and again.

Believe it or not, I have experienced the same thing as the protagonist. I was living in Portland, and I was traveling to my favorite haircutter. It was the weekend, and I found out that Obama was in town giving a speech. How did I find out? The roads were blocked. I ended up going to a lesser haircutter that I could access, thus starting the first in a long line of terrible hairstyles that rival the hair of the subsequent president.

If you have lived in one of the more totalitarian states in the last year, you may have experienced someone trying to clip around an earloop mask. It doesn’t work very well. My current hair has a distinct “rural” look to it, not at all like the star of the film.

After the haircut, about 70 minutes in, the man who wants to be known as “Benno” opens fire on the sparkly vampire, and we think that smug asshole may finally be done for. Unfortunately, Benno misses every shot. Then we find out it’s Paul Giamatti who can’t hit the broad side of a barn door, and we are treated to an extended sit-down where two fine actors do what actors do best: talking.

Though the scene is fantastic, I have mixed feelings about talking. Beyond the common pitfalls of audio mixing technicalities, language barriers, and potential for audience boredom, it can also make a film look cheap. In a movie about a multi-billionaire obsessed with his hair, you want everything to look expensive. Regardless of reality or what the movie is trying to say, every frame subconsciously telegraphs information to the audience. That means marble palaces, golden lions, and pyramids of diamonds, if you want them to think “rich”. Instead, the scene takes place in a grungy squatter’s apartment.

Remember Joker (2019) where the Joker meets his billionaire father? Even the bathroom looks rich. The scene in Cosmopolis could have been set anywhere. But you know what? I admire Cronenberg’s dedication to postmodernism. Most people live in dirt hovels, so the talking scene conveys a sense of relatability. It allows the audience to pay attention to the talking rather than staring at the set.

Pay attention, Disney! Your Mandalorian garbage isn’t small and intimate enough. Take that space helmet off! Most people don’t wear space helmets or act chivalrous with frog people. We eat frogs, if necessary. Cronenberg knows what’s up, and that’s why he is one of my favorite directors.