Tom Jolliffe looks at the finest in ambiguous cinema, and asks ‘how do you pull it off?’…
Often in the law books of screenwriting there’s a section which might tell the studious aspiring writer that a film must have clarity. Plot threads must lead to resolution. Each act and your central character arcs should be clear. These rules, like many rules are often bent or outright broken. There is a type of linear cinema that will tell simple tales. Good guy beats bad guy and all the loose ends are neatly tied up. For the most part, mainstream cinema, particularly in the modern era, is predominantly propelled by linear, clear cinema. On the flip side we have ambiguous cinema. This can occasionally be the stylistic norm of art-house for example, where ambiguity may be a symptom of surrealism. If you’ve watched (off the top of my bonce) the classic Japanese horror, House, you’ll know it’s a film brimming with ambiguity. The same as watching Jodorowsky’s work, that surrealism and playful desertion of form and structure, brings with it an accompanying ambiguity.
There’s perhaps a trend in arthouse cinema, particularly modern arthouse horror, to be ambiguous for the sake of being ambiguous. The act of layering a film with ambiguity can be wilful, but occasionally this can be without due respect for what an audience might be looking for. Maybe it’s not fair, or the main through line, or characters have become an afterthought to the fiendish predilection of film-makers wanting to be clever (or appearing so). Yes, just as there is sometimes good linear narrative and bad linear narrative, there are also good and bad examples of ambiguity. Additionally, it might well be that ambiguity isn’t even intended. I’ve seen a number of films kind of digging into that trifle of ambiguity, getting to it through a layer of incoherence.
Spider-Man: No Way Home for example, whilst adhering to linear format also created a mass of convoluted ideas, tonal shifts and ever changing rules. A certain degree of ambiguity was birthed in ideas about the multiverse, the repercussions and all the who, what, how of it all. Whilst it was indeed fun, like a lot of Marvel films, it was a complete mess when viewed objectively. Though there’s an enjoyable three way Spider-Man short film that can certainly be extracted from it ). Still, for sheer spectacle and light hearted, stakeless thrills, sometimes mess is all right. Indeed I’ve watched enough video era schlockers that were rife with unintended ambiguity (nay, more so just general, what the hell!?). Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker was the definition of a bad mess though, laden with ambiguity of the most frustratingly incoherent. Where ideas have escaped the original intent and gone rogue (one).
Ambiguity though, isn’t always a popular choice. Open endings, or endings with several possible meanings can leave a viewer with a general sense that they’ve been short changed. This is generally why ambiguous cinema is on the lower budget spectrum, and the mega tentpole films usually opt for clarity. There’s also a difference here between films with ambiguous endings and ambiguous cinema. The surprise end, or non-committal ending is a well worn trope of course. Point Break is linear cinema with an (effective) ambiguous ending. Has Bodhi been consumed by the ocean? Has he become one with the surf, the once in 50 years storm? Or will he wash up somewhere and still be alive? Indeed from my perspective as a low budget genre film writer, ambiguity is often a no no. As warned vicariously from distributors; audiences don’t want it (even if the reality might be otherwise for the most part).
Probably one of the most masterful examples of ambiguous cinema was 2018’s Lee Chang-dong masterpiece Burning. It’s a masterclass in using ambiguity with respect to the viewer, fairness and immersion. You have clear notions in the film. There are three characters who are separated by a combination of gender, class, philosophy, intellect, but unified by inherent flaws. Hae-mi is deeply insecure. Jong-su is pent up, with an underlying obsessive side, whilst Ben is devoid of empathy, and possibly sociopathic. They’re split too by their categorisation of being either ‘little hunger (who wants food for the belly)’ or ‘great hunger (who wants greater meaning).’ Jong-su to an extend transitions from one side to the other (finding himself on a search for answers and a greater meaning), whilst Ben is not pre-occupied with any need for meaning. He’s slightly hedonist. Hae-mi however needs and searches for meaning, seemingly unable, or resigned to not finding it prior to disappearing.
SEE ALSO: So many Burning questions
The ambiguity in Burning lies in what Chang-dong puts on screen for us to consider, or decipher. There are signifiers to suggest different things for each of them. You can view the film as being about Ben murdering Hae-mi, and Jong-su delivering his own kind of justice having discovered the truth. The clues are there on screen, but they are contradicted. It’s never to the point the film is narratively confused, or not playing fair. It’s just a grounded nod to the inherent complexity of real life. Resolution isn’t as easy as in the blockbuster movie. Chang-dong invites you to re-watch and whilst pondering those clues from the precisely ambiguous dialogue and mise-en-scene, you also pick up on underlying messages about (Korean specifically) millennial listlessness, social divides, inequality and a whole lot more.
There have been many expert purveyors in ambiguous cinema, often homing themselves in horror which has an inherent fantasy that makes ambiguity a little more palatable. David Cronenberg, who has returned to body horror with his latest feature Crimes of the Future, has long toyed with ambiguity. He revels in cinema which can home a number of meanings or interpretations. Sometimes it’s the characters and their actions, tiny moments of subtlety throughout which tiptoe an array of possible reason (A History of Violence), or it can be aspects of the character and the overall story they are thrown into. Videodrome remains one of the finest examples, with a playful narrative that skewers reality, satire and body horror into an ambiguous shish kebab.
The exact meanings in Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse could be hard to pin down. His love of mythology and folklore bring an other worldly quality to his cinema (which has continued with The Northman). On the surface we have a tale of two wickies (lighthouse keepers) who are stranded on their island base and get severe cabin fever. The descent into delusion adds an extra layer, along with a dive into local folklore and odd occurrences that make the film both surreal and ambiguous in turn. Eggers has mastered this in a way that few auteurs could, but certainly a legend like Stanley Kubrick did. Kubrick’s final film, initially greeted with middling response, eventually saw an upturn in legacy (largely because it gets better with repeat viewings). Indeed Eyes Wide Shut is absolutely teeming with subtle ambiguity which is teasing you to decode. Kubrick of course had previous with The Shining, 2001 and A Clockwork Orange particularly.
Often, ambiguous cinema is built on atmosphere and patient pacing. Burning did this, Kubrick, Eggers, et al. They invite you to pay attention and to invest in the world. Perhaps the all time master of patient, willfully slow (but mesmerising and rewarding) cinema was Andrei Tarkovsky. His accessibly simple Ivan’s Childhood aside, Tarkovsky’s cinema was always build on emotional engagement over complex narrative, and evocative ideas over simple set up, pay off and resolution. Stalker might well be the finest example, with an underlying ‘quest’ that propels the movie, but enough philosophy, religious allegory and metaphor to create almost limitless interpretation. Mirror by contrast is fairly formless and drifts between scenes, but is still impossible to look away from, and playfully mingles memory with dreams and fantasy in recounting a dying man’s life. The key, always though, in pulling off this kind of ambiguity is thorough conviction and visionary execution of the ideas. To keep your audience enraptured, willing to fill the gaps as they see fit.
What is your favourite ambiguous film? Do you like ambiguity in cinema? Let us know your thoughts on our social channels @flickeringmyth.
Tom Jolliffe is an award winning screenwriter and passionate cinephile. He has a number of films out on DVD/VOD around the world and several releases due out in 2022, including, Renegades (Lee Majors, Danny Trejo, Michael Pare, Tiny Lister, Nick Moran, Patsy Kensit, Ian Ogilvy and Billy Murray), Crackdown, When Darkness Falls and War of The Worlds: The Attack (Vincent Regan). Find more info at the best personal site you’ll ever see here.
