Everyone has different tastes in movies, but now and then a film comes along that just
defies understanding no matter which way you slice it.
Whether it's a high-concept art film or just the product of a ridiculous plot, these movies
stick around for one reason: they leave us more confused than ever when the credits finally
roll.
Spoilers coming up!
Inland Empire
David Lynch's 2006 film Inland Empire is an insane sort of beast.
A three-hour nightmare of a movie featuring Hollywood, street prostitutes, and a super
weird sitcom about rabbits, it makes Mulholland Drive look like an episode of Friends.
It's also as close as Lynch has ever come to making a full-on horror movie, providing
scares more startling and perplexing than he's ever dared before.
But what does it actually mean?
According to The Guardian, it's "about whatever you come away thinking it's about."
So... looks like you got this one right!
The Prestige
Christopher Nolan's movie about dueling magicians is pure cinematic sleight-of-hand, a mystery
that keeps all its clues in plain sight.
Still, there's one aspect of the movie—the ending—that continues to leave viewers confused.
The ending shows the length Angier will go to for his magic when Christian Bale's Borden
discovers a macabre storeroom of Angier's own dead, duplicated bodies, still in the
boxes where they drowned during each performance.
But who is the real consciousness, and the real Angier?
It's a brain-twister, but Tesla revealed the answer before the final act of the movie,
when they discover the field of cloned hats.
"Don't forget your hat."
"Well, which one is mine?"
"They are all your hats, Mr. Angier."
All of the Angiers are the "real" Angier, exact copies who share the exact same memories,
motivations, and a fear of death.
Over and over again, he dies for applause, always leaving behind a living copy of himself
who's doomed to drown screaming in a box the following show.
Having a twin would have been so much easier.
Under the Skin
This alien abduction movie is unlike any other in the sci-fi genre.
It's truly only an abduction movie for the first half—after which the alien, played
by Scarlett Johansson, becomes disillusioned with luring humans into traps.
When she decides to let one victim go free, the alien goes rogue, curious about this planet,
its people, and her role as an alien in disguise.
The second half of the movie follows the alien trying to grapple with a growing sense of
her own humanity, and the vulnerability that comes with it.
Her journey is cut short when a lumberjack tries to rape her in the woods.
But when Johansson's human skin starts coming off, the attacker burns her alive.
Look past the sci-fi aspects, and this is essentially the story of a young woman's self-discovery—and
her devastating, fatal realization that the human world is harsh, unfair, and full of
horrors.
Gerry
Gus Van Sant's Gerry is basically a movie about nothing.
It's about two guys named Gerry who get lost hiking in the desert.
They wander around the endless landscape, blaming each other for their screwups, until
one Gerry kills the other Gerry and gets out of the desert.
It's dry stuff, and in the end, the movie doesn't do anything.
But that's really the point of it: the two protagonists could be anyone, and their journey
could be to anywhere.
In this way, Gerry is sort of a universal story, serving as a mirror for viewers, reflecting
the petty conflicts and the damage we do to each other and ourselves—and finally, yes,
the overwhelming boredom of life.
Filth
Starring James McAvoy as corrupt cop Bruce Robertson, Filth starts off as a comedy and
murder mystery, then steadily veers off course into a film about psychological torment.
The tonal shift is so dramatic that it's no surprise viewers can end up losing track of
the plot, particularly during the last-act reveal that Bruce has been spending his nights
roaming the streets dressed as his own estranged wife.
While on one of his cross-dressed jaunts, he witnessed the murder he's supposed to solve—a
fact he can't reveal without incriminating himself.
In the final moments of the film, even though Robertson has a shot at redemption, he chooses
not to fix anything and hangs himself—the ultimate kiss-off from a selfish, self-preserving
man.
Eraserhead
David Lynch's bizarre first feature film is a little easier to comprehend than its reputation
suggests.
At its core, it's a story about the terror of being a new parent.
From the opening scene to that monster baby, to Henry's visions of the baby taking his
place, it all goes back to the nightmare of fatherhood.
Or at least, that's how most people look at it.
Lynch himself has said the movie is open to interpretation, saying that "no one, to my
knowledge, has ever seen the film the way I see it."
Which is exactly the point.
Sometimes with movies, it's not about plot logic.
It's all about how it makes you feel!
"Can I borrow a feeling?"
"HAHAHA.
"Can I borrow a feeling…
HAHAHA."
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