Director: Damien Chazelle
Babylon, directed by Damien Chazelle, is a wild, frenetic dive into the golden age of Hollywood, capturing the excess, chaos, and transition that defined the film industry of the 1920s. The film explores the dizzying highs and devastating lows of fame, set against the backdrop of the move from silent films to the talkies. Chazelle’s distinctive style is on full display here, with the movie dripping in spectacle, energy, and visual flair.
At the center of Babylon is a trio of characters: Jack Conrad (Brad Pitt), a leading silent film star; Nellie LaRoy (Margot Robbie), a starry-eyed actress eager to break into the business; and Manny Torres (Diego Calva), a young dreamer who rises through the studio system. Each character’s arc represents a different facet of Hollywood’s rise and inevitable fall. Pitt delivers a performance imbued with a tragic nostalgia, Robbie is magnetic as Nellie, a woman consumed by her own ambition and talent, while Calva provides the emotional core, navigating the industry’s ruthless side with wide-eyed wonder and disillusionment.
One of the most striking elements of Babylon is its audacious tone. From the opening sequence, which feels like an opulent fever dream filled with roaring parties, debauchery, and larger-than-life characters, the movie sets a frantic pace. Chazelle clearly revels in the hedonistic excess of early Hollywood, highlighting the heaving masses of people striving for a piece of the glamorous pie. The film captures both the exhilarating madness and the moral decay beneath the industry’s surface.
Thematically, Babylon delves deep into the ephemeral nature of fame, the inevitable passage of time, and the brutal cost of success. The transition from silent films to sound becomes a metaphor for change itself, with older stars like Jack Conrad becoming relics in a world they helped build. The price of innovation and progress looms large, showing how the industry’s shift leaves many behind, both creatively and personally.
However, while Babylon excels in spectacle, it occasionally falters in pacing. The movie’s sprawling nature means some scenes linger a bit too long, and its nearly three-hour runtime can feel excessive. There’s a sense that Chazelle tries to cram every possible theme and idea into the narrative, which leads to moments where the emotional depth of the characters gets overshadowed by the sheer grandeur of the visuals.
The film’s score, composed by Justin Hurwitz, is another standout. Hurwitz, who collaborated with Chazelle on La La Land and Whiplash, once again delivers a soundtrack that pulsates with life and energy. His compositions enhance the film’s highs and lows, from the jazz-infused party scenes to the melancholic moments of reflection.
Overall, Babylon is a love letter to old Hollywood, but one written in messy, chaotic ink. It’s a visually stunning film with a grand ambition, reveling in the contradictions of an industry that builds up its stars only to discard them when their time is up. Chazelle’s bold direction and the committed performances of its cast make it a memorable cinematic experience, even if it doesn’t always hit its emotional targets with precision. For those who appreciate films about films, Babylon is a lavish spectacle, but one that leaves you reflecting on the cost of all that glitz and glamour.