Ron Howard's cinematic oeuvre often paints a picture of polite, Oscar-baiting narratives rooted in truth, such as 'A Beautiful Mind' or 'Apollo 13,' or meticulously crafted, anonymous blockbusters like 'The Grinch' and 'The Da Vinci Code,' rarely hinting at a director deeply intrigued by, or even cognizant of, the profound darkness lurking beneath the surface. His All-American persona, a well-intentioned, charming everyman (who now professes shock upon realizing that the protagonist of his 2020 film 'Hillbilly Elegy' might not be as inspiring as initially thought), hardly suggests a fit for a sordid, violent tale exploring the depths of human cruelty in our relentless pursuit of desires.
For a fleeting moment, at the helm of the fact-based 1930s survival thriller 'Eden,' Howard almost tricks us into believing he's the mad genius suited for the job, expertly guiding us on a thrilling, terrifying descent into the abyss. Yet, as his characters delve deeper into reprehensible deeds, it becomes increasingly apparent that Howard might have been a miscast. The film eventually succumbs to its own darkness, drowning in its depths.
Unveiling the world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival, Howard reminisced about being inspired to tell this tale for years, ever since its seeds were planted during a family vacation in the Galapagos Islands. He enlisted screenwriter Noah Pink, whose work on last year's 'Tetris' had honed his skills in crafting tales of greedy factions vying for the same prize, albeit on a far grander scale this time.
In the 1920s, as Germany embraced fascism, the ambitious Dr. Friedrich Ritter (Jude Law) and his wife Dore Strauch (Vanessa Kirby) sought solace on the uninhabited island of Floreana. Ritter envisioned a new way of life, eschewing religion and conventional family values, his writings reaching the mainland via mail, stirring debate in newspapers and salons across Europe. They are joined by a German couple (Daniel Brühl and Sydney Sweeney), along with their son from a previous marriage, hoping the island's air might cure his tuberculosis (while Dore, too, is convinced by her husband that her multiple sclerosis will dissipate with time). Their arrival brings a chilly reception and a rude awakening to the harsh realities of island life, but things take a darker turn when another group arrives, led by the vivacious yet sinister Baroness Eloise (Ana de Armas), accompanied by three male servants and a dream of constructing a lavish hotel on the island.
This ensemble of unlikely characters, reminiscent of an Agatha Christie mystery, teeters on the edge of tension as they grapple to realize their contrasting visions for Floreana. Ritter and Strauch embody Nietzsche's philosophy of preferring solitude over neighborly love, deriving sexual gratification from the suffering of their more conventional German counterparts. However, the simmering conflict, as each faction navigates the boundaries of the other's beliefs, is more intriguing than the boiling point it ultimately reaches.
Tragically, Eloise's over-the-top villainy transforms the narrative from a whispered whisper to a blood-curdling scream. Her actions are so blatantly evil, she seems like a Disney villain come to life, lacking the subtlety or intelligence required to make her truly terrifying. De Armas struggles to embody the vampish, over-the-top nature of the character, while Pink's dialogue often plummets straight for the jugular, forsaking subtler, smarter horrors. Meanwhile, Kirby, a stronger actress adept at delivering arch, snarky one-liners, is woefully underused, and we don't see enough of her as the situation spirals out of control.
The dissolution of this reluctant community mirrors a particularly brutal episode of 'Survivor,' as food becomes scarce and mistrust flourishes. However, the intricacies of their downfall dissolve into repetitive, predictable reversals, culminating in an exhausting finale of relentless betrayals.
Our attention is momentarily captivated by certain performances—a fully naked, toothless Law and an underutilized yet alluring Kirby, both magnetic throughout—and their bizarre, wavering accents. Additionally, our curiosity to witness just how far Howard will push the boundaries keeps us engaged. At times, he exceeds our expectations with cringe-worthy moments of violence (no spoilers, but scenes involving a placenta, an infected tooth, and a treacherous stab elicited loud reactions at the premiere), but the overall silliness and hokey writing prevent us from fully investing or caring about the ultimate survivors.
As the credits roll, a fascinating coda reveals the fates of those who made it out alive, but by then, the ship has already sailed off course. Like many of his characters, Howard's voyage into the dark side proves to be a valiant yet
