TELLURIDE – Crafting an original musical for the stage or screen is hard. It may be one of the most challenging forms of art to master. Consider, how many times have you heard someone remark that a musical many regard as great only has one worthwhile act. (Usually the first). Why do songs completely disappear for large portions of a movie musical, only for audiences and, often, critics to look the other way? If bringing a good musical to life was any easier we’d probably have a new one dropping every week. In that context, it’s somewhat startling that Joshua Oppenheimer, an acclaimed documentarian behind the masterwork “The Act of Killing,” would make his narrative feature debut with “The End,” an original movie musical that made its world premiere at the 2024 Telluride Film Festival this past weekend.
The curtain rises twenty-five years from now and an environmental catastrophe has put humanity on the verge of extinction. A privileged few are surviving, perhaps even thriving. We are initially introduced to five of those survivors who live a comfortable life in dwellings built into an abandoned salt mine. The first to sing is Son (George MacKay) as he adds another detail to a miniature collage of a world that no longer exists. He’s soon joined in song by his Father (Michael Shannon), a former energy executive, and Mother (Tilda Swinton), still name-dropping her association with the Bolshoi Ballet from decades ago. Their extended family includes Friend (Bronagh Gallagher), Father’s Butler (Tim McInnerny), and a Doctor with a seemingly endless supply of prescription drugs (Lennie James). Their lives are sheltered both physically and socially. They don’t discuss what happened before or how they were lucky enough to have this opportunity. They practice fire drills and bake cakes. Mother creates busy work by constantly rearranging the saved pieces of artistic masterwork that hang on the walls. But it’s all an obvious facade. A very obvious one.
The Best of The Playlist. In your Inbox. Once a day. Sign up now.
Son was born in their shelter. He’s never seen the stars or set foot in the outside world. He may be twentysomething, but his social skills are stunted. He often acts out like a child and confides his secret thoughts in Friend (in fact, his mother’s best friend who was saved at her request), because there is no one else to confide in. When a stranger, Girl (Moses Ingram), barely alive, somehow makes it down into their tunnels, the dynamic of this unconventional clan is shattered.
Despite nursing her back to health, Mother is immediately skeptical of bringing someone new into the group. Father had “drawn a line” of who could join them in this protective bubble years ago with many friends and family turned away. The group has also been attacked by other seemingly peaceful visitors in the past, how would this foreigner be any different? Why is she allowed to stay? Perhaps he’s grown softer or maybe he sees the excitement in Son’s face, but Father, along with the encouragement of Friend and Butler, decides to let her remain.
As the hours, days and weeks unfurl, tensions rise. Long-simmering trauma and truths about Father, Mother, and Friend are finally revealed to Son. And, even with his suspicions, his innocence is lost. Meanwhile, Girl, who is trying to cope with her own recent tragedies, plays along with Mother’s requests like a prisoner afraid of being thrown out of the mine and, likely, certain death.
Like all good musicals (at least in theory), the characters move the plot forward by projecting their feelings in song. These powerful compositions feature music by Joshua Schmidt and lyrics by Oppenheimer. Many of them are memorable, a few are genuinely fantastic, and it doesn’t hurt that MacKay, Swinton, and Ingram can belt the hell out of them. MacKay’s singing skills are, notably, something of a revelation. Moreover, while perhaps too many of the songs are staged simply in the increasingly claustrophobic sets, Oppenheimer is inspired by two numbers to whip up something grand.
Toward the beginning of the film, Son sings an optimistic tome (song titles were not provided to critics) as he dances through the salt mine. At one point, MacKay pulls off a masterfully timed flip down a salt hill that teases more musical wonder than Oppenheimer is willing or able to deliver overall. Another stirring number follows Father as he climbs a gigantic carved-out salt wall. There is an impressive shot when he reaches the peak and a taste of an old-school dance number with Butler to close it out. For the most part, however, the characters sing their songs in one room or walk through familiar rooms again and again. That is not uncommon in filmed musicals, but “The End” yearns for more cinematic creativity. Especially with such a predictable and drawn-out storyline.
What hinders “The End” the most isn’t the music, but it’s that narrative. There have been a plethora of doomsday films and episodic programs over the last decade. That means none of the character’s secrets in “The End” are anywhere close to shocking. The conflicts are obvious. The politics are surface, and despite some incredibly committed performances from MacKay, Ingram, and Gallagher, in particular, the proceedings increasingly begin to test your patience. You won’t even care that Oppenheimer never shows what the outside world looks like or answers your initial questions about how and when these people went underground. The musical may be original, but the scenario is decidedly not.
All that being said, the songs are impressive enough that it’s not hard to envision “The End” becoming something of a cult musical. Five years from now, maybe less, some excited college freshman is going to convince the head of their college drama department to let them put on a stage version of this musical. And chances are, it will be a smash. This is material that, with some editing of its book (er, script), a spotlight on the songs, and natural physical intimacy, could flourish on the stage. Oppenheimer and his collaborators might not want to hear that now, but in many ways it’s a compliment. And, frankly, a legacy many musical producers and directors dream of. [C]
Read all of The Playlist’s reviews from the 2024 Telluride Film Festival.
