Reader be warned: here be spoilers. Please, please, PLEASE go see this film before reading this article if you have any interest at all. It’s well worth your time.
If forced to describe Darren Aronofsky‘s mother! in one word (besides the endless superlatives I could toss its way), that word would have to be “difficult.” Around seventy percent of my brain function was devoted to figuring out what on earth was going on during my first viewing of the film, and, judging by its abysmal Cinemascore report card and box office haul, general audiences seemed to struggle even more. I suppose it doesn’t help that they might have felt duped by trailers that marketed it as a horror flick when the actual picture is…well, I guess a drama about a man and his wife dealing with unwanted visitors that descends into a sometimes horrific fever dream that’s just too hard to describe with coherence and conciseness. In that sense, mother! is extremely difficult to market, as it could only really jive with audiences whose sensibilities leaned more toward the arthouse and independent scenes, and Paramount still had the guts to release it in over 2,300 cinemas in the United States (which I applaud).
It’s not that mother! is an impossible film to grapple with; I’ve seen movies that are incomprehensibly opaque, and this is far from it. In fact, once you’ve unlocked the film’s central biblical allegory, the whole thing appears almost deceptively simple, and a second viewing makes the metaphors so obvious you’ll wonder how you missed them the first time around. Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, the great flood, the birth (and death) of the Messiah, they all make appearances here while Jennifer Lawrence’s mother earth suffers at their hands (and Javier Bardem’s God doesn’t seem to care).
But to walk away from mother! with the most surface-level interpretation is to settle for it in its most unsatisfying state. This film demands your scrutiny, to be revisited and restudied and picked apart piece by piece, and still it will feel as though you haven’t uncovered all of its secrets. The simple interpretation ceases to be so simple when you consider Aronofsky’s previous, failed relationship with actress Rachel Weiss and current relationship with Jennifer Lawrence; the film is so strikingly personal, there has to be some exploration of this present. Perhaps, too, it examines the creative process and the haggard relationship between the artist and their work. Even further still, it could simply be a brutal, feverish nightmare depicting the suffering of the neglected, the pain of unrequited devotion and love.
Even that central, baseline story of mother earth being ravaged, raped, and ruined by mankind while God turns a cold, blind eye can be read slightly differently if you consider Aronofsky’s penchant for communicating stories through unreliable narrators. Is this meant to be an indictment of God for turning His back on the rest of creation for the sake of some reprobate apes that continuously ignore His instruction and destroy His work and His home despite professing their “love” for Him, a love that pales in comparison to that of the earth itself? But then I remember that I am one of those unsavoury beasts smashing mother earth’s chairs and stealing her pottery, and suddenly I am forced to come to grips with a new perspective on the consequence of my own sin, the profound loss that resulted of God choosing me over the rest of His creation and the pain it must feel if it were afforded personhood. Now the heady haze of mother! no longer feels like something distant and intangible to me. It’s unsettlingly close.
The truth is that there’s no singular, straightforward reading of mother! that you can point to and say, “That’s it, there’s nothing more to it.” Metaphors bear double and triple meanings, and the whole thing folds in on itself over and over again until it’s tangled to the point where it can’t be fully untied. Yet I can’t help but try. A week and a half has passed since my first viewing of mother!, and I’m still lost in it. I’ve yet to find a convincing interpretation of elements like the yellow medicine and whatever that thing in the toilet was, and I don’t know if I ever will. Still, I can’t help but feel compelled to keep wondering, keep searching, keep digging through this gorgeous, many-tentacled monstrosity in vain effort to wrangle it in.
Films like this are the epitome of what cinema should be, to me at least. Pieces of audiovisual art that are so effortlessly potent that they can suck you in for hours or days not just trying to decipher the plot but the implications thereafter, ending in an experience that is simultaneously intellectual, emotional, and rousingly spiritual. Aronofsky has succeeded in producing the most spiritually stirring film I’ve seen since The Tree of Life, and I will not hesitate already to call it a masterpiece. This should be a standard for us in what we hope to achieve in the arts – I can only hope to create something with half the depth of meaning of mother! someday.