By Dave B.
Embers (2015, currently on Netflix) somehow managed to get a Critic Score of 81% on Rotten Tomatoes, but for the life of me, I don’t see how. I’ll concede that it’s premise of a dystopian world where everyone is infected with a disease that erases their long-term memory, is interesting. I’ll also concede that Embers is skillfully directed and often is quite beautiful. Even in the trash-filled landscapes, there’s a certain haunting loveliness. But frankly, the only reason that this film didn’t send me spiraling into a deep, uncontrolled freefall of depression is because it’s one of the most boring movies that I’ve watch this year.
I have no doubt that people can watch Embers and glean “profound” meaning from it. However, I’ll have to call BS on whatever faux depth they claim to have extracted. Embers brings nothing new to any genre that it may be classified as. Even viewed as a work of philosophy, it falls flat because it lacks a consistent theme and doesn’t have a plot. A movie can survive, even excel, without a theme OR a plot, but without either? Not so much.
The main reason that I watched Embers from beginning to end was because some part of me refused to be defeated by it. That’s the same reason I’m writing this review. But after I’m done with this, I’ll never speak of Embers again. I’ll never think about it again. If anything or anyone reminds me of it in any way, I may destroy that thing or that one. I almost envy the characters in the film, despite the worthlessness of lives lived remembering almost nothing, because if they had seen Embers, they would eventually forget all about it. In other words, I don’t recommend watching Embers. In fact, I almost wish that you hadn't read this review, as it may tempt you to watch the movie.
I have no clue what I'm doing, but I'll keep doing whatever it is to the best of my ability.