Begotten

Begotten is one of those movies that's aimed at a very specific audience. It's not for people who are easily offended, or even mildly so. It's not for people who prefer easy-to-follow plots or who prefer clear, crisp cinematography. It's really for people who relish weird movies, particularly ones that Mean Something, the better to analyze endlessly. Me, I don't care so much for the over-analyzing bit, but I do like me some weirdness. And boy, does Begotten get weird. And gory.

Reasons you might not like this movie, reader: 1) It's in black and white. (I know!) 2) It has no dialogue. 3) It looks like it was shot on Super 8mm film, transferred to Betamax, copied over to cave drawings, and then digitally recorded. What I mean to say is that grainy is a word that applies here. It's kind of like the old days, when one might get a partial signal for a TV channel to which one had not subscribed. Except at no point is the signal clear in Begotten. Where was I? Oh, yeah. 4) Its religious undertones are overtones, and they're not exactly reverential. 5) There's plenty of blood and other fluids.

Now those of you who, according to the above paragraph, not like this movie should stop reading now. Are they gone? Okay, rest of you. Here's the basic plot. There are no twists – the appeal is visual, believe it or not – because there's almost no story. It begins with God killing himself through disembowelment, which somehow causes Mother Earth to be born, and then a few minutes later she gives birth to a fully formed Son of God, who's really nothing more than a shaking skeleton with some skin on him, and then they're beset by faceless cannibals, and then things get weird.

If you do watch Begotten, be sure to cleanse yourself with some wholesome Yo Gabba Gabba afterward.

Don't watch this film while, or soon after, eating.

Having said that, Begotten will stick with you for the rest of your life, like it or not. Based on the nihilistic philosophy that life is nothing more than man spasming above ground (to paraphrase the title sequence/introduction), this will more than likely contain the most intense and grisly imagery you'll ever see in a film.

There is no dialogue, only image after image describing the cycle of life. The film's combination of stark black and white photography compounded with some truly creepy background sounds work to drive home the maker's message.

The movie begins with God (portrayed as a bandaged and obviously insane man) slicing open his torso with a straight razor and subsequently dying in his own filth. After his death, Mother Nature emerges from his corpse to impregnate herself with his blood and semen and gives birth to Man, represented by a maggot of a human convulsing on the earth.

The landscape is a barren waste, populated by hulking shrouded humanoids who eventually happen upon Mother Nature and Man. After a slew of violent scenes depicting the rape of Nature and destruction of Man, these humanoids proceed to pound the remains of the corpses back into the ground, and the cycle of life begins anew.

I actually rented this from Blockbuster one night, based on the cover art and hype content, but this is definitely not a Blockbuster-type film. Don't expect narrative, dialogue or any pulled punches. This is intense imagery based on a dark subject.

I give this movie some high marks for the filmwork and audio, but I don't think I'll be watching it too often, if again. I like my movies dark and unique, but this one is exponentially more than I expected.

The first 3 or 4 minutes of Begotten were very promising; the graininess of the film, the obscurity of the scene in front of me, the silence, all made me feel like I was peering in on something forbidden, mysterious. I'd been told nothing of the film before I saw it except that it was "disturbing," and I thought initially that was just what I was going to get.

But after a while (and it wasn't a very long while, either) I just stopped caring. It stopped being worth the effort to struggle to discern the action going on in front of me, to piece the story of even the point of the non-story together, and sitting back and letting the imagery unfold in front of me, sort of accepting it passively for its own beauty didn't seem to work, either.

Some of the shots are beautiful, I'll admit it. And some of them are, for lack of a better word, disturbing. But I spent more of my time wondering "was this shot on film or on video, or both?" or "is that a continuous recording of crickets chirping, or is it a loop?" than "who are they, and why are they doing this?"

Because honestly I didn't care who they were, or why anything that happened on screen happened. I didn't feel any great need to. Half the time I was watching something purely abstract and non-representational, and the other half, what felt like old stock footage that someone had pieced together because they thought it looked neat, even though they had no context for what it was being shown. And it dragged on and on and on, going nowhere except where it had already been, so joy of joys, you get to see a variation on a scene that's already been beaten into the ground a couple times already, and then you get to see it again.

Mercifully, the film did eventually end, with what felt like it was supposed to be a "see, there's the point of all this" series of images, but in order to reveal the point, there needs to be a question posed in the first place, and that wasn't there. Everything just happened sort of matter-of-factly, without any emotional investment to it whatsoever, hoping it would get by on its grossness. Which it didn't. The grossness was deflated by how impossible it was to see what was going on anyway. It wasn't like peering through murk to find something you weren't sure you wanted to see. It was staring straight at the murk itself while it deluded itself that it wasn't something you couldn't bear to see.

I usually love bizarre, experimental, non-linear films. Not this time. This is a boring one, filled with very dull, repetitive images. Nothing goes on for on and on and on, and many times, due to the lighting effects, the editing, the grainy out-of-focus picture, and the blending of white with light and black with dark, you wonder if there is any image at all on the screen or if you are getting a bad reception. Oh yeah, and there are constant shots of the sun going up, and down, and up, and down... When the movie ended, my reaction was not of horror, or repulsion, or awe, but of amazement, as I wondered "THAT was IT?".

The reason why people think that this crap being passed great art is the work of a genius is the presentation of the credits. The guy that looked like Leatherface who was repeatedly cutting what is supposed to be an intestine is credited as God, and other characters as Mother Nature and etc. Why, how easy to create art! Now we can credit Elizabeth Berkeley's character in "Showgirls" as "God stripping several times and constantly acting stupidly in Las Vegas with Elvis look-alikes and screwing Kyle MacLaughlan" and officially declare it a work of art!...

Against all my better judgement I sat captivated by this film. My watch, the sky outside, the hunger pangs in my belly becoming distant and thin. Is it a movie? I still don't know, it's more like opening up a window onto a world that exists elsewhere and just watching things happen. The stark grainy black and white is so grotesquely beautiful, it feels alien. This isn't "arthouse" filmmaking as we've come to understand the term. This is art. Living and breathing, entirely regardless of my interpretation, of my wants, or my needs in a film. If that sounds like something you want to see, by all means.