It’s also why he so often adapted true-life stories (Apollo 13, Cinderella Man, Thirteen Lives, [sigh] Hillbilly Elegy).
But this time, Howard — to his eternal credit — lets the craziness take over.
He sends the guileless Wittmers off to live in a cave up a hill, hoping this will drive them away.
After witnessing the early struggles of the Wittmers, Ritter and his wife hop into bed together, and Howard intercuts their lovemaking with Heinz Wittmer stumbling up a hill.
We can never tell what Eloise will do next, whether she’ll demonstrate cruelty or compassion, whether she’ll seduce or attack.
Uncharacteristically, Howard embraces the messiness of these people and the contradictions of their lives.
He, after all, is a man broken by the war — it’s the reason why they came here in the first place.
In the past, when he got close to something too dark and unhinged, Howard tended to pull back.
He’s had some films, like In the Heart of the Sea, that needed to go a little crazier to work.
With Eden, it seems, he’s finally allowed himself to lose his mind, and it might be the best decision he’s made in years.
Ron Howard was a Hollywood icon known for creating sophisticated hits and middle-class prestige films, but his real talent was always in taking larger-than-life characters and letting them bounce off each other. For this reason, some of his movies—like The Missing, The Dilemma, Frost/Nixon, Night Shift, and even those ridiculous Dan Brown adaptions—are, at best, buddy movies—and sometimes they even aren’t. This explains why he frequently adapted real-life tales, such as Hillbilly Elegy, Thirteen Lives, Cinderella Man, and Apollo 13. His attraction to extreme personalities was hidden behind reality, or what passed for reality. So did his strong, polished method of crafting: he created engrossing, proportionate stories centered on characters who dared to take the stories in a lot of crazy new directions. He has also followed this same procedure with Eden, his newest movie. However, Howard allows the madness to take over this time, much to his neverending credit. He has five wild men and women to play off one another on a deserted island in the Galapagos, each played by an actor giving it his all.
It is true that the intriguing idea is based on a true story. (We even get the required footage of some of the real characters during the closing credits; however, this time, rather than evoking oohs and aahs, what they really do is make us wonder how any of what we saw could have happened. Dr. Friedrich Ritter (Jude Law) and his wife Dore Strauch (Vanessa Kirby) moved to the uninhabited island of Floreana in the Galapagos in 1929, as the world reeled from financial and political chaos. He was there to develop “a radical new philosophy that will save humanity from itself,” and she was there to offer moral support while attempting to heal her multiple sclerosis. Even though they avoided bourgeois society, they were eager to advance in their careers. Letters were sent overseas, and Ritter’s daring new experiment was praised in fanciful articles published in German newspapers. Heinz Wittmer (Daniel Bruhl), a World War I veteran, his wife Margret (Sydney Sweeney), and their son Harry (Jonathan Tittel) arrive in Floreana in search of paradise and a new beginning, and so Eden begins in 1932. What they discover is a barren wasteland devoid of fresh water, where stray dogs prowl around, ready to attack the defenseless, and wild hogs feast on anything that might be attempted to grow.
They discover that the enraged Ritter truly fucks hates people despite his lofty goals of saving humanity and improving the world. In an attempt to scare the cunning Wittmers away, he sends them to live in a cave atop a hill. Alternatively, he might believe that the struggle will heal their ills. Ritter is a pain-believer. At work, he poses the question, “What is the true meaning of life?”. “Weakness. Truth can be found in suffering. And salvation in truth. He actually gets excited by other people’s pain. Ritter and his wife make love after seeing the Wittmers’ early hardships; however, Howard breaks into their moment of passion to show Heinz Wittmer tripping over a hill. We might start to question whether the director is also becoming more attracted to all of this suffering.
One day, Baroness Eloise Bosquet de Wagner Wehrhorn (Ana de Armas) shows up on the island with two attractive lovers (Toby Wallace and Feliz Kammerer) and a plan to construct an opulent hotel for millionaires in the middle of this simmering standoff on the edge of nowhere. Her taste in clothing, music, and literature notwithstanding, she lacks knowledge in her field. Eloise is a pure hedonist, if Ritter is a sadist and masochist. In addition, she has neuroses and narcissism. She sets up her tent close to the Wittmers’ house, giving them constant access to the sound of her angrily engaging in sexual activity with her boy toys. I am the embodiment of perfection, she tells herself over and over, as if she needs more proof. Her story is unknown to us; her accent even seems phony. Furthermore, Armas portrays her with unpredictable rawness. It’s always unpredictable what Eloise will do next—whether she’ll act cruelly or kindly, seduce or assault. She has an almost demonic power over those around her and the audience because of that uncertainty.
Unusually for him, Howard accepts these people’s messiness and the inconsistencies in their lives. Eloise may soon become a villain; she is manipulative and a little crazy, for sure, but she also encourages the sick son of the Wittmers to dream of freedom and a better life—as she most likely did once. She is more alluring and dangerous because we can see how vulnerable she is. It’s uncertain territory for everyone else, too. On the soundtrack, Ritter rambles on about philosophy in a voiceover that is almost stentorian, but we also know that a good deal of it is just gibberish. Ritter pauses occasionally, corrects and repeats himself, laments that his recent statement was too Nietzschean, and then rapidly tries to think of something new to say. This man merely wants to become well-known; he is not a visionary. Despite her apparent support, his wife’s doubts about her cherished prophet are becoming evident. Kirby, who is always so skilled at deftly veering from one emotional extreme to another, is always on guard and tense in this scene; we get the impression that she could always be very violent.
As the calm, wide-eyed audience surrogates caught in the midst of all this madness, Wittmer and his spouse also have their own crazy adventures. They came here initially because of him; he is, after all, a man shattered by the war. Eden finds great pleasure in watching Margret’s raw, snarling instincts take over throughout the film. Margret is young and impressionable, and Dore incorrectly refers to her at first as “a child bride.”. After experiencing the horrors of the afterlife in Immaculate earlier this year, Sweeney returns to the role of an innocent person who finds inner, almost legendary reserves of survival. She receives the most graphic and intense set piece in the movie; the less said about it at this time, the better.
The uncontrollably wild environment and the characters’ unwavering lack of trust in one another culminate in an exaggerated melodrama that grows increasingly absurd as it progresses. Yet it also carries us along. The film Eden possesses a primal, earthly ferocity that devours not only the characters on screen but also the audience members; it almost seems to be illustrating the idea that everyone has a corrupt side. In the past, Howard had a tendency to back off when he approached something too dark and insane. He’s directed movies that required a little more crazy to pull off, such as In the Heart of the Sea. It appears that he’s finally let himself go insane with Eden, and it may be the best choice he’s made in a long time.
