“Leave the World Behind” Triumphs Over the Apocalypse

“Leave the World Behind” Triumphs Over the Apocalypse:

Throughout history, humanity has often felt entrenched in an imminent apocalypse, perceiving its era as the brink of a monumental end. However, the current landscape is inundated with a surge of apocalyptic cultural works. In 2020, against a backdrop of chaos, Rumaan Alam’s novel “Leave the World Behind” emerged, weaving a gripping narrative around two New York families thrust together in a secluded rural retreat as an ambiguous, humanity-threatening crisis unfurled. Contrary to conventional sci-fi thrillers, the book’s focus remained firmly rooted in the human experience, rendering its apocalypse more emotional than speculative. Nevertheless, the harrowing glimpses of the unfolding world outside infused the narrative with an undeniable cosmic urgency.

When movies adapt books, they’re not bound to stay true to the source material. Take Jonathan Glazer’s upcoming film “The Zone of Interest” as an example—it strays significantly from the Martin Amis novel it’s based on, preserving little beyond the title and setting. However, while adaptations can take liberties, it can be irksome for fans of the original when every alteration seems to detract from the story rather than enhance it.

In Sam Esmail’s adaptation of Alam’s novel, “Leave the World Behind,” the characters and events find themselves within a more prominent, albeit somewhat unconvincing, apocalyptic thriller. Amanda (played by Julia Roberts) and Clay (portrayed by Ethan Hawke) portray a well-off Brooklyn couple who have rented a vacation home in a rural area near New York City, accompanied by their two teenagers. Shortly after their arrival, unsettling incidents unfold notably a massive tanker grounding on a crowded beach. One fateful night, a man named George (played by Mahershala Ali) and his daughter, Ruth (portrayed by Myha’la Herrold), show up seeking refuge. Surprisingly, they are the owners of the property, having driven there amidst a citywide blackout. While the easygoing Clay welcomes them in, Amanda, with a hint of suspicion and unease, is immediately wary of the two African-American newcomers.

Regrettably, the film lacks any genuine interest in or attachment to its characters. They come across as mere cardboard cutouts, serving as representations rather than evoking sympathy, humanity, or even curiosity. While Alam’s novel explores the awkward collisions and connections between the families, Esmail’s film initially appears to do the opposite. It separates them, thrusting them into individual encounters with surreal end-of-the-world scenarios: planes plummeting from the sky, ominous red leaflets hovering like ominous clouds. Perhaps the intention is to illustrate that everyone endures their personal apocalypse. The fractured nature of experiences, and the inability to comprehend things as a whole, might aim to mirror our fragmented, distracted psyches. However, these characters remain two-dimensional, placed within thrilling disaster sequences rather than embodying individuals enduring an unimaginable horror. Even as they attempt to forge connections later in the story, through awkward monologues and shared music, the audience never truly feels present alongside them. Ultimately, it feels insufficient, arriving too late and lacking in depth from the start.

The film might have salvaged itself if the apocalyptic visions it depicted had been intriguing, terrifying, or even believable. (After all, some great disaster movies manage to thrive despite weak characters and dismal dialogue.) Yet, Esmail leans heavily on the story’s ambiguity, almost using it as a way out, inundating the narrative with bizarre events while withholding clarity on what exactly is unfolding. In essence, it’s a half-hearted attempt. It feels more like a compilation of intriguing concepts the writer-director hastily assembled rather than cohesive scenes belonging to a singular, emotionally impactful storyline. Nonetheless, there are glimpses of promise: the concept of an endless traffic jam filled with driverless Teslas on Auto-pilot colliding is an imaginative idea that could find a home in a more refined movie someday.

It sounds like you found it hard to invest in anything within this film—the incidents, characters, or even the dialogue. Perhaps it’s a matter of personal perspective. Esmail, undoubtedly a clever and imaginative individual, might have pushed too hard to shape this material according to his vision instead of allowing the characters and premise to guide him organically. Even his camera work, with its precise framing and ominous movements, seems detached from the unfolding drama. While certain shots, like the dizzying bird’s-eye crane shot inside the house, have a visual flair, their impact might have been more potent if strategically placed during pivotal moments rather than as an early attempt to inject excitement.

It brings to mind M. Night Shyamalan’s “A Knock at the Cabin,” released earlier in the year, another loose adaptation of a small-scale apocalyptic novel. Shyamalan’s delicate treatment of the material, his skillful use of offscreen space, and the gradual revelation of narrative details all contributed to a haunting and emotionally engaging experience. By intensely focusing on the specifics, Shyamalan managed to tap into something universally resonant.

Esmail’s vision for “Leave the World Behind” seems to aim for a grand portrayal of humanity, but the source material thrives on its specificity and internal exploration. Alam meticulously crafted pages upon pages delving into the minutiae of his characters’ lives and thoughts. This attention to detail allowed their actions and words to resonate, inviting readers to grasp their motivations. The subtle gestures and casual exchanges drew from rich depths of detail and intimacy. Amanda’s fragility and paranoia felt authentic, as did Clay’s adaptable nature; their escalating anxiety about their children grew more palpable as the crises escalated.

In the novel, George and Ruth were depicted as an older married couple, their weary vulnerability contributing to the simmering tension that slowly unfolded. The narrative relied on these intricacies to build its emotional landscape, contrasting with the potentially broader strokes of an Olympian vision in Esmail’s interpretation.

Absolutely, movies and books often diverge due to their distinct creators and mediums. Yet, even when considering the film independently, the characters’ actions might seem disconnected, lacking coherent sense. Despite the talents of the cast, the characters struggle to come to life, especially given the burden of an unwieldy, overly explanatory script. Who these individuals truly are remains a looming question. Is there a reason to invest in them? And crucially, does the film itself care about their development?

As the narrative progresses, one might uncharitably speculate whether the writer-director, particularly when scripting Amanda’s peculiar opening speech about human endeavor culminating in her blunt declaration, “I freaking hate people,” might be projecting personal sentiments onto the character.