A
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dapted by
screenwriter Amy Jump from the prophetic 1975 novel by J. G. Ballard, Ben
Wheatley’s High-Rise confronts us
with a gross caricature of 1970s' Britain. Set in a state-of-the-art London
tower block where inhabitants are cut off from the rest of society, we follow the
young doctor Robert Laing (Tom Hiddleston) as he moves into the twenty-fifth
floor. The isolated community encompasses its own cross section of the social
hierarchy, which soon descends into all-out class warfare that sees the high-rise
fragment into violent tribes.
While the
film is in some ways a progression from Wheatley’s previous works, his
fanciful, comically grotesque imprint remains prominent. With a tone almost
dark enough to rival Wheatley’s uncompromisingly anarchic Kill List (2011), this film is packed with all manners of
depravity. However, we are offered an even more conspicuous sense of
playfulness – a black humour that gives the film more substance than the
director’s previous films. As we are sucked into an unrelentingly bizarre, hyperbolized
1970s nightmare, most pretences of standard narrative form are soon dispensed
with, in favour of crafting an unsettling collage of viscerally felt debauchery.
We watch on helplessly as we are presented with a showcase of decadence. The
film underlines the anxieties of an era in which brutalist monoliths began to dominate
the skyline. We experience an anti-nostalgia
for a boozed-soaked period of garish décor and inescapable cigarette-stink,
with Portishead’s haunting cover of ABBA’s ‘SOS’ filling us with unease.
Certainly,
the film is a triumph in a visual sense. Laurie Rose’s cinematography is superb,
the screen is often populated with arresting imagery of the highest order, akin
to a Stanley Kubrick text. The frame is filled with evocative shots –
Huddleston’s paint splattered face, amber-tinged scenes straight out of a
period drama, and ominous images of the monolithic buildings, which somehow
themselves become the antagonist of the film.
The
performances are also striking in their sheer ostentation. Hiddleston has a
chilling presence as the shady Robert Laing, playing the role with an unsettling
detachment. Luke Evans’ portrayal of the psychotic Richard Wilder keeps us on
edge throughout, and Jeremy Irons returns to his Shakespearian roots in
depicting the building’s flamboyant architect with a disturbing mischievousness.
But underneath all this impressive form, High-Rise
is to some extent a victim of its own ambition.
Perhaps
at odds with its source material, we should probably not read this as a piece
of speculative science fiction – it is more of a reflective exercise. The film
is set in an alternate 1975, and presents us with a form of retro-futurism that
is supposed to be all the more biting given the benefit of hindsight. A rather
too overt Margaret Thatcher reference is even included, as if the film’s
implications weren’t plain enough. This political retrospection may prove hard
to navigate for some. The film is often drolly weird in it’s over the top
cynicism, presenting us with a warped retro-reality evocative of Terry Gilliam’s
Brazil (1985). High-Rise is a surreal excursion to the bleakest depths of social
injustice. It attempts to be a statement not only on 1970s' Britain, but on capitalism
and social inequality in general. However, somewhere along the way this barrage
of overt social commentary verges on pomposity. While the perspective offered
by the film is thought-provoking, it quickly becomes insubstantial, causing us
to wonder, is this is all there is? Perhaps
in adapting Ballard’s novel something was lost in translation, or maybe this
story was just more suited to the prose of a page. That said, this film is
still a powerful dystopian vision, just one without much depth beneath its
undeniably resplendent surface.
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