We’ve spoken on many occasions about the fact that Hollywood’s favourite topic of conversation is itself – you’d struggle to find someone within the industry that didn’t operate in a way where they loved nothing more than the sound of their own voice. There is certainly not any shortage of works that make bold and sweeping statements that refer to Hollywood as “the most magical place in the world”, or that it is where anyone can go to make their dreams come true. Obviously, it would require either a very young age or extreme naivete to actually believe this to be correct, since any kind of research into the industry shows that it is about as far from the truth as possible, since as many dreams have been shattered as lives have been lost to the vicious nature of showbusiness, which has seen as much tragedy as it has joy. Yet, these stories still get told, in the form of extravagant films dedicated to showcasing the magic and mystique of Hollywood, whether looking at the contemporary state of the industry, or leaping into the past to showcase the dazzling nature of the industry’s history, which is normally bathed in nothing but glamour and excess as they explore the galaxies of stars that worked their way through this elusive but enticing world. This all came to a halt when Damien Chazelle came up with the idea for Babylon, which is essentially following the same trajectory of being a bold and audacious glimpse behind the proverbial curtain that has divided the plebeians from the elite, but in reality conceals dark secrets that could change the entire way we view our favourite actors and their profession, which is far from as glamorous as we may think. At the heart of Babylon, we have a story about psychological manipulation, and how it relates to showbusiness, an industry built on all forms of exploitation – and through taking quite a bold stance (albeit one that is somehow both in favour of Hollywood’s antics, and in fierce opposition of those same issues), Chazelle very effectively crafts a deceptive and twisted dark comedy that may overstep the mark on one too many occasions, but still manages to be as ambitious as possible, proving to be one of the more memorable satires on showbusiness in recent years, and a film of immense audacity – and whether one wants to view this as positive or negative is entirely up to their own relationship with the film.

The concept of comparing Hollywood to a modern-day Babylon has existed from the very start of the industry. We’re often reminded of the set built by D.W. Griffith for his epic Intolerance in 1916, an achievement so enormous and excessive, terms such as “monstrous” are often used in both praise and criticism of the spectacle that he and many of his contemporaries were aiming to produce at this time, when it seemed like absolutely anything was possible. We also recall Kenneth Anger’s controversial pseudo-biography of the film industry, Hollywood Babylon, which purported to be a scandalous account of the sordid lives of the rich and famous, revealing the secrets that happened behind closed doors (most of which turned out to be something between rabid sensationalism and blatant fabrication – but it remains a landmark text in the history of the industry, mainly for what it represents), both of which evoke the image of that iconic ancient city known for its luxury and magnificence, and the opulent lives of those who resided within that ancient paradise. It goes without saying that giving this film Babylon was a calculated decision, rather than just an off-the-cuff impulse, since it clearly carries a storied meaning, and the term itself has a complicated relationship with a very particular moment in the industry’s past. This sense of indulgence and excess is integral to understanding what Chazelle was aiming to achieve with this film, which is to offer a very different look at the industry, venturing into its earlier days. The 1920s was a particularly interesting period to choose, because while it has been covered in other films before, it still remains almost mythical in its scope, recent enough for us to know many of the details, but too far in the past for us to understand what life was like for those who were setting out to make a career for themselves in what was still a relatively new industry. Additionally, there were conversations on the progress from the silent era to sound cinema, which is a focal point of this film, not only in its analysis of Hollywood history, but as an allegory for progress in general, with the theme of changing one’s mentality in communion with the march of time being a captivating detail that the film explores in detail through this harsh and acidic blend of parable and satire, managing to be simultaneously bleak and outrageously funny.

To break it down further, the intentions behind Babylon are immediately apparent, and only grow stronger as the film progresses. Whereas most films about the grandeur of Hollywood portray the industry as a dreamlike world, one that may be difficult to enter and filled with its own challenges, but once someone is able to cross that threshold, they are well on their way to achieving stardom (and retaining it, which is supposedly effortlessly easy), and realizing their biggest ambitious. Babylon is wildly different – it occupies a nightmarish landscape, a world that is filled with despair and peril in every corner, and where absolutely everyone has to give up all sense of morality in order to succeed, which is perhaps closer to reality than anything else. There is a feeling of profound despair when we discover that the world we adore is actually built less on hard work and artistic expression, and more on a lethal combination of drugs, crime and moral turpitude, which seems to be the only way to get ahead in the industry. From its first moments, Babylon is a film firmly committed to showcasing the more sordid side of filmmaking, starting with a party that goes beyond excess, and instead becomes an exercise in pure depravity, the kind that creates that feeling of extreme discomfort – and the moment that Chazelle has us in that position, he has succeeded. He goes to extreme lengths to not only disturb the audience, but outright disgust us, creating a nauseating and deeply repulsive depiction of a version of Hollywood, one we have never seen before, but yet still feel so deeply compelled to explore. Considering the discussion around the contemporary state of the industry being rife with debauchery, one has to imagine some of the partial impetus for this film was to offer a rebuttal, showing that there was never a moment in which showbusiness was nearly as sanitized and decent as history has made it out to be. Babylon is about as far as one can get from the rose-tinted exercise in nostalgia that many modern depictions of the Golden Age of Hollywood tend to become, which only allows for a more riveting and challenging film that intentionally chooses a more controversial path, in the hopes that by approaching the subject differently, it may stand out – the bigger the risk, the greater the reward, and whether it worked is once again a matter of opinion, but it’s undeniably that what Chazelle was doing here had a stark impact, for better or worse.

However, while my overall perception of Babylon does veer towards the positive, it is important to note that this is by no means a perfect film. If anything, it is deeply flawed, and not in a way where its imperfections can be considered endearing, which often happens with projects that tend to have more ideas than could feasibly be realized in such a form. Instead, this is a film made by someone who had something to say about Hollywood, but wasn’t entirely sure how to filter the majority of those ideas into something logical and meaningful for the most part. The problem with Babylon is it lacks a certain passion – Chazelle obviously feels strongly about the material, but it appears that when it comes to the subject matter itself, he isn’t well-equipped, both in terms of knowledge of the era (since one of the main problems with the film is that it seems to lack nuance in terms of recreating the movies of the 1920s – the films-within-the-film don’t have that elusive sheen that many silent era masterpieces did, and instead just look like they were produced in recent years and then converted into black-and-white – looking polished is not a merit for a film such as this), and the manner in which he tells the story. There needed to be a sincere passion, on both sides of the extreme – Babylon had to be made by someone who either adored cinema, or outright despised it, since that energy would have been able to fill in the areas in which this film stops short. Naturally no one who actually hates filmmaking would ever volunteer to direct anything, let alone a big-budget, self-indulgent Hollywood epic. However, it needed someone who had strong feelings about this particular era, on either side of the extreme, since they’d have likely brought the nuance and knowledge needed to elevate the film, which frequently struggles to find a coherent point of view. Chazelle rose to achieve a considerable amount of acclaim when he was very young, and he is still considered a wunderkind, so while his youth is a great asset in most areas, making a film about the Golden Age of Hollywood seems like it was a bit of a risk at this early stage of his career (especially since this idea has apparently been gestating for over a decade), since he himself hasn’t been working in Hollywood long enough to attain that level of cynicism and sardonic disdain for the industry that would have given Babylon the push it needed towards being a much stronger film in terms of its approach to the darker side of showbusiness. Far too much of this film feels like Chazelle making the closest possible approximation of what he believed the 1920s were like – and even though no one alive to see this film can claim to be a first-hand witness of the era, there are an abundance of resources that could have helped the film develop on many of its more lacklustre ideas.

However, the shortcomings that surround Babylon are major, but they are at least compartmentalized enough that they don’t impact the rest of the film, at least not to the degree that makes it feel like a total calamity. One of the more positive aspects of the film is the cast – Chazelle utilizes his broad industry connections to bring us a sprawling cast, composed of some very impressive actors. Whether in major roles or merely having cameos, the film is filled to the brim with interesting actors, who help populate the story and bring it to life. The central quartet is quite strong on its own – Margot Robbie, Brad Pitt, Jovan Adepo and, in his breakthrough role, Diego Calva (who has a bright future in the industry, if he continues to maintain this level of performance) are all fantastic, Robbie in particular committing to the role with a ferocity that we haven’t seen from her. She acts as if this is destined to be her landmark role, and while she may have technically given more proficient and complex performances in the past, this seems to be an attempt to expand on what she has done previously, establishing herself as a star, from whom our gaze struggles to deviate. It’s a bold and extravagant performance, and much like the rest of the film, each viewer will likely react differently as a result, since this is not the kind of work that lends itself to universal acclaim. Calva is very strong (even though he isn’t given much space to emote, since he is essentially playing the audience surrogate, and quite possibly the only sane character in the film), and Adepo makes the best with the limited screentime he has, his storyline being integral but unfortunately the one aspect of the plot that was likely cut down due to time constraints. Babylon also features strong supporting work from the ever-reliable Jean Smart, who starts as the scene-stealing comedic relief in the part of salacious gossip-mongering Elinor St. John, but who eventually has the film’s most singularly-important moment in the monologue she delivers towards the end, and Tobey Maguire, who may only have a few minutes in the film, but proves that he can abandon that heroic, likeable imagine to play a truly terrifying villain, in a scene that remains one of the most unsettling in this entire film. The cast of Babylon work to realize Chazelle’s vision, and he directs his actors well, giving them the opportunity to interpret these characters on their own, making them equal collaborators in the creative process, which makes a substantial difference throughout this film.

In addition to the very strong performances by the cast, another very important merit that drives Babylon (and perhaps the one factor that even its most harsh critics have been more lenient about acknowledging as its strongest element) is the visual aspect of the film. Chazelle may not be a director who has developed a strong authorial voice yet, but he is still incredibly competent as a filmmaker, and he knows how to effectively put a film together that is visually and creatively memorable. He is a solid craftsman, and his ambitious approach to filmmaking was previously one of his greatest strengths – but with this film, it feels like he is aspiring to something even larger and more intimidating than anything else he had made before, which can be a major risk. He does at least assemble a team of very creative artists in their individual fields to bring the film to life, many of whom he has worked with before. Amongst these collaborators are cinematographer Linus Sandgren and editor Tom Cross, who possess as much authorial voice in different facets of the film as the director, as do the teams responsible for the art direction and costume design, since these are both areas in which the film absolutely excels – the way Babylon is made is almost brilliant enough for us to overlook the narrative and tonal shortcomings, since this film is a spectacle, and it is never afraid of openly acknowledging its primary intention to be a visceral experience (which includes the presence of bodily fluids and excretions, which should have perhaps been kept on the cutting room floor, as effective as they may be in contributing the feeling of repulsion that the film sometimes utilizes as a source of humour), a proverbial feast for the senses. Credit must also be given to Justin Hurwitz, who composes yet another incredible score, possibly his finest yet – it may have quite a few similarities to his other collaborations with Chazelle, but there is enough distinction between them for this to stand on its own. The discordant, frantic musical score supplements the chaotic tone and general sense of pure narrative anarchy that runs rampant throughout this film, and while it may often fall short in certain areas, it’s difficult to deny that Chazelle’s efforts to reconstruct old Hollywood through the visual and aural channels is proof that he is a very strong director, and with some more coherent writing and a more controlled sense of what he wants to do with each project, he will likely only grow to be even more adept at his craft.

Chazelle is a very ambitious filmmaker, and while he has attained a certain degree of criticism for his tendency towards excess, as well as his over-dependence on pastiche and homage, he is still very gifted, and his work in Babylon is some of his most unique. This is not a film that will be widely appreciated – it seems to be constructed along the lines of being intentionally polarizing, with the jagged tone, penchant for excess (both visually and logistically – Chazelle seems to have finagled his way into the elite group of Hollywood filmmakers who can demand a running time of over three hours) and overall strange approach to certain ideas being indicative of a film made to divide, which is perhaps the most appropriate way to handle this material, especially since it is one of the rare times a film made in Hollywood is not afraid to be overly critical, especially because (as one of the characters said), one’s legacy is far bigger than their existence, a perpetual and recurring motif throughout this film. It seems like he is actively trying to do something different, such as going against the recent trend of overly-celebratory tributes to the power of filmmaking, which has been suitably dubbed as the “love letter to cinema” category, which only grows more steady as time goes on. Babylon is not a love letter to the film industry in any way – if anything, it is a piece of mean-spirited, harsh criticism that aims to cover a century of filmmaking (which includes a climactic montage that is one of the most horrifying moments in a film of the past decade, not in the sense that it is deliberately unsettling, but rather genuinely misplaced and ill-advised – the intention that leads to its conception is understandable, but the decision to keep it in was quite questionable), and for that alone it does warrant some attention. However, we have to ask ourselves whether there is any such concept as misplaced ambition, because as bold as Chazelle was trying to be with this material, it was clearly a case of him being the wrong person to bring this story to life, or he is simply too young. A few decades would add a level of cynicism and snark that this film desperately needed, with the ideal version of Babylon being one directed by a more grizzled, sardonic Chazelle, since experience would have likely given him the tools to help bring out the nuances and details that should drive this film. Babylon is not a disaster, and it has its many moments of great promise – but the dark material never quite registers as well as it should, meaning there were a few lost opportunities to fully lean into the absurdity, which simmers beneath every frame, and only occasionally making a difference in the story, for better or worse.