Release Date: 2017
Director: David Lowery
Running Time: 92 minutes
Connection. When a movie connects to a viewer, either all other attributes of it fall into place for them, or the viewer is able to see those attributes’ purpose in forming that connection. The purpose of A Ghost Story appears to be to connect to viewers via a common yet painful human emotion: grief. Very very unfortunately, the movie has almost no redeeming qualities to allow this connection to be naturally forged for any good reason. Its flaws grow at an exponential rate and overshadow the impressive but finally pointless values of the movie.
The vintage aspect ratio, minimal amount of dialogue, and careful cinematography give the film admittedly exceptional visual appeal… at first. It is clear from the beginning that the film is going to be more concerned with heavy subject matter than entertainment for entertainment’s sake, but the entire movie rides this complex to absolutely no destination. The viewer is introduced to the death of a musician early in the movie, in an impersonal and honestly insensitive way, with something the narrative loves very much: a lingering shot. A prior lingering shot of the musician and his wife as they try to go to sleep is practically all the viewer has to go on to get a sense of their relationship. It is the closest they are shown to be before the death, and it is a really uncomfortable scene that does not easily touch the viewer emotionally like it was apparently supposed to do.
Then a “ghost” arises from the late musician and it is literally a sheet presumably covering Casey Affleck. The talent he definitely has is daftly wasted as he sulks under a big sheet that looks like it should be accompanying Charlie Brown trick-or-treating. I am not being harsh or hyperbolic: this is the actual protagonist of the film, for whom the viewer is supposed to feel sorry. They are called to feel even more sorry for his wife, however, or at least that was the impression I got when the camera lingered on her eating pie and… maybe crying for six whole minutes. The ghost watches in the background, obviously expressionless, which makes both of them so. The wife’s grief feels unnatural if it is even present at all, and such a dull, “contemplative” series of scenes just like this one is a rude insult to those who not only have felt real grief but have actually had their lives affected by losing a loved one.
Camera angles and intimate scenes create a faint air of realism, but then the movie takes ridiculously surrealistic elements and incorporates them inexplicably. By the time~spoiler alert~the ghost “communicates” with another comically embarrassing sheet in a neighboring house, evident in basic and fake-deep subtitles, it feels like watching a project by young students who needed to fulfill a time minimum. It is very childish-looking by this (early) part of the movie, and it is clear why the movie is unnecessarily rated R: it wants to be a movie for deep grown-ups. Raiders of the Lost Ark is more graphic than this movie but it feels like the studio fears no one will take the film seriously unless it is R-rated. With this gimmick and many others, the film is expected to transcend itself and be digested like it isn’t a grown man walking around in a sheet with occasional, very obviously preachy dialogue. The movie requires little to no thinking to understand, and it believes that because the subject matter that is a hop, skip, and a jump away from it is itself deep, that the movie itself is. It is not.
I am not upset that the movie takes risks. What’s upsetting is that it takes the same risks as so many other superior films*, and it stitches them together in the hope that it will connect with an audience and forgets they actually have a choice of watching the movie or not. The pedantic dialogue, disappointing narrative, lack of self-awareness, and especially its mistreatment of the subject of grief all spoil the sharp cinematography and inappropriately placed but excellent music so that these features do not feel like virtues anymore, as they only work towards this vain search for depth. Most people probably pat themselves on the back for having the patience to watch an actress eat pie for six minutes, but I can confidently say this movie is a waste of time and possibly my least favorite movie ever.
*For examples, scarce dialogue was mastered in A Quiet Place, along with limited setting and cast which were also mastered by 10 Cloverfield Lane, and lingering shots were used exceptionally in Drive, and all three of these films are much more valuable.
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