Zoo

For better or for worse, A Zed & Two Noughts is a very unusual film. This is hardly surprising given that it was directed by the avant-gardist director Peter Greenaway. It begins with a car accident at a zoo, where two women are killed when their vehicle collides with a pregnant swan. These women are twins who were in turn married to a couple of twin zoologists, Oliver and Oswald Deuce. Shortly afterwards these men start simultaneous affairs with the survivor of the accident, the driver Alba Bewick who lost a leg as a result of the crash. She later has the other one removed surgically for symmetrical reasons and falls pregnant to the twins.

This strange film features both the good and the bad typical of Greenaway. The good is the visual presentation and distinctive bizarre qualities, the bad is more or less any time someone opens their mouths, which unfortunately is quite often. Greenaway is really terrible at writing dialogue. His script constantly tries to be clever, which is not the same thing as actually being clever. Needless to say, the dialogue is painful to listen to and ultimately makes the film hard work and not in a good way. But setting this aside, amongst other things, it's an intriguing concoction about symmetry, birth and decay. Of the latter are several time-lapse films showing a variety of animals and organic matter decaying - films which were fascinating and repulsive in equal measure. We also have excellent cinematography from Greenaway's common collaborator Sacha Vierney, with many shots being a joy to behold. The other significant cog in the wheel is the typically persistent minimalist score from Michael Nyman, which is sometimes brilliant even if it does border on irritating at others. We also have the most unexpected collaborator in any Greenaway film - none other than Jim 'Nick Nick' Davidson, the politically incorrect stand-up comedian who appears as a zoo-keeper.

In summary, A Zed & Two Noughts was an interesting film spoiled by Greenaway's horrible dialogue and awful characters. If you can get beyond those it does offer some fascinating stuff but you sure have got your work cut out with this one.

I knew how strange and unusual Greenaway could be but Zed, I believe could take the cake :). I am not sure what it is all about but I still enjoy the triumvirate Greenaway - Sasha Verny- Michael Nyman. Some ideas and images Greenaway will use in the later "8 1/2 women" and "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover" - especially, the soundtrack. "Dead Ringers" and "Mon oncle d'Amérique" (two beautiful weirdnesses themselves) also come to mind while watching Greenaway's elegant tale of decomposing which is also his meditations about life, death and grief. As in earlier "The Draughtsman's Contract (1982), Greenaway explores the relationship between the close relatives - the twin brothers are in the center of "A Zed & two Noughts". The movie is also a modern retelling of an ancient myth about Leda and Zeus who took the form of a swan and slept with Leda on the same night as her husband, King Tyndareus. Leda bore Helen and Polydeuces, children of Zeus while at the same time bearing Castor and Clytemnestra, children of her husband Tyndareus, the King of Sparta.

Greenaway considers that 90% of his films one way or another refers to paintings. "A Zed & two Noughts" refers openly and with great admiration to the paintings of Johannes Vermeer van Delft.

"A Zed & two Noughts" is not easy film to watch, its characters are not sympathetic, it lacks warmth and sentimentality but as always in Greenaway's films, it is a feast for eyes, ears, and for brain.

7.5/10

A Zed and Two Noughts (or Zoo) is Greenaway's best film. Made during the transition between his early experimental short films and his later more narrative (and more celebrated) ones, his free flowing structure is at its best here, fresh, witty and cerebral (some would also say pedantic). In later films, one has the feeling that Greenaway has try to go back to the style set by Zoo, but the results (like in 8 1/2 women) are almost unwatchable. The plot: two biologists twins working in a zoo, specialized in studying the putrefaction of animals, lose their wives in a car accident. They hook up with a strange woman who lost her leg in that accident. Meanwhile, there are references to Vermeer throughout (what does this has to do with zoology, only Greenaway knows), speeded up shots of real rotting animals, Michael Nyman's hypnotic score, and also a girl who learns the alphabet through giant letters that are linked with live animals (for example, z is for zebra, as in a children's book). Deliberately non naturalistic, Greenaway makes from this strange melange a very compelling movie, though undoubtedly very hard to take for some.

This is definitely one of the more disgusting films I've watched, and not in a good way. This movie made me physically ill, and though it was mind-bending and beautifully coreographed, the subject matter and the lead characters' inevitable decline into utter insanity that is characteristic of Greenaway films was a bit much for me. I'm saying this and I loved Santa Sangre. Go figure.

A pair of twin brothers (who have different hair color somehow, and as it turns out were originally Siamese twins) become obsessed with the subjects of decay, evolution, and greif when their wives are killed in a car crash at the Zoo. They start conducting utterly repulsive experiments that involve time-elapse films of animals and fruits rotting away. And to top it all off, there's a plot in all of this, by a couple of poachers posing as zoo staff who plan to make a profit from all this. The rest is just entirely too disgusting/weird/complicated to explain clearly, but I will give you some hints about the ending: It involves a rack. And snails. And floodlights. And a record player.

All you need to make cinema is a point of view (and of course the view to which it points). Or a frame of reference and the reference which it frames. In Greenaway all these exist together, knowingly, as forms within forms.

A story of twins looking to overcome grief by studying the decay of death is the reference here. Zebras, lizards, swans, we see the empty shells of body decay before the camera. Kept under the scrutiny of our gaze in life, inside cages, they remain under it once dead. At what point do all these symmetries which conjoined together make up the miracle of life stop being the sum of their parts, and by which process; how much of these parts that we understand as the self can be taken out before the self is no longer recognized; and the symmetry once broken, what mystery renews it.

These obscure ruminations are framed against the question of existence, which implies god and pattern. How come that something so systemised, so perfectly designed and evolved from nothing, from amoeba and algea, can come to pass by the whim of chance? Having taken millions of years for creation to unravel its complexity, why does it take a second to destroy it? Which is to ask, at what point does the system, which in hindsight appears ordained and patterned, become random and meaningless.

Various eccentricities are enacted in this process, all pointing to some kind of symbolic nakedness.

When the legless woman gives birth to new life, twins again, the old twins, the blueprint for them, must step aside. The film ends with an poignant thought. Having carefully staged their own death so that the decay that follows may be captured on film, we see how nature intrudes upon this scene and foils the effort.

An atheist himself, Greenaway here gives us a pessimism that cuts deep; no consciousness survives this.