Why ‘Don’t Look Up’ annoyed the hell out of me
As a piece of dark art reflecting our society back at us, it’s phenomenal. But I was hoping for much more than that.
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I do love a good meteor movie. 1998’s Mimi Leder film, Deep Impact, is up there with my favourite films of all time (more on why here). So when I saw the trailer for Adam McKay’s forthcoming climate crisis allegory, Don’t Look Up, it’s fair to say I was excited.
‘Finally!’ I thought to myself. ‘A piece of cinema that will examine our society’s divisiveness and cleverly point towards a brighter future through sharp, critical and insightful storytelling!’ (yes, I did genuinely think this and yes I am a nerd).
So, a few nights ago, I settled down to watch it with pretty high expectations. After all, surely such a stellar cast (Lawrence! Streep! DiCaprio! Rylance!) wouldn’t have signed up to a half-baked attempt to shine a new light on the world at one of the most crucial existential junctures in its history?
And, sure, the film handled so many themes expertly, refreshingly and brutally.
For example, the ‘memeification’ of politics and difficult world events, which softens devastating and complex issues in order to make them more digestible to our delicate, human minds.
The nepotism at play at the top of the political tree.
The popularised dismissal of science and scientists.
The failure of modern journalism to focus on stories beyond those which provide the most clicks.
The way that women are demonised more so than their male counterparts.
As a piece of critical art, Don’t Look Up presents audiences with a visceral reflection of the sorry state of affairs our planet finds itself in in a truly unique and horrifying way.
But the most effective stories need hope, especially at the moment, and what bothered me most about Don’t Look Up was this: it had absolutely no hope. Zero. Instead, the filmmakers chose to sharply deconstruct everything that’s wrong with our society and its divisive politics, without ever seeking to explore how we ended up here, or what the solutions might be.
The movie proactively — and rightly — invites us to scoff at and criticise those in power who have economic- and power-related stuff to gain from the meteor (and, ergo, the climate emergency). But it also silently encouraged us to laugh and dismiss the countless, two-dimensional characters who simply didn’t want to believe that the comet existed (or that it was dangerous). This was exemplified perfectly by Kate Dibiasky’s (Jennifer Lawrence) parents.
When Kate, the PhD student who discovers the meteor, returns home to be comforted by her parents, they refuse to let her in unless she promises not to be negative about the meteor. That is the only time we see them. We never even learn their names (they’re credited as ‘Mr and Mrs Dibiasky’).
Exploring the motives behind these characters’ worrying but all-to-believable attitude towards their scientist daughter was a massive missed opportunity.
Because where was the ‘why’? WHY are people behaving like this? WHY are they denying the truth, until they can see it with their own eyes (and, even then, many still refuse to even ‘look up’). WHY are they so happy to listen to blatant untruths?
And, crucially, HOW can we come together and rediscover what it is that we all have in common? How can we better understand them, empathise with them and work to change their minds? Do our minds also need changing? Because ‘we’ (liberals) are radicalised as much as ‘them’. We’ve all been fed information online which reinforces our views and beliefs, which also serves to dismiss and even ridicule the views and beliefs of others.
My deepest fear about this film is that, actually, it might only serve to entrench polarisation even further. The casual dismissal of ‘others’, and the exploration of our divided world from one perspective only, could actually divide us more. Which, surely, is exactly the opposite to what it set out to do?
Because, unlike the President (Streep) and the Musk/Bezos mash-up character (Rylance), Kate’s parents had nothing to gain from the impending disaster. They weren’t manipulating anyone. All they were doing was trying to make themselves feel safe. Yet we were invited to laugh at them and dismiss them. Which is dangerous and, dare I say, smug. And this sense of ‘smugness’ — of ‘we know better than you’ — of ‘we care so little about you that on the credits of the movie you don’t even have names’ — is what has caused, and continues to cause, the polarisation of our society.
So, ultimately I don’t think Don’t Look Up is a shit film. But I do worry that it’s actually a very damaging one. Unintentionally damaging, yes. But intentions are meaningless if harm is still caused.
If you want to watch a depressing, hopeless film about the apocalypse, then Don’t Look Up’s got your back. But if you want to watch a more tender and hopeful film about the very different ways that people who love each other react to an impending extinction-level event that makes you feel something beyond sickening dread, then stick with Deep Impact.
Further reading: Poles Apart: Why People Turn Against Each Other, and How to Bring Them Together (by Alison Goldsworthy, Laura Osborne and Alexandra Chesterfield)