Arcaneya

Tag: matt damon

  • Downsizing (2017): How a Great Premise Went Small, and What Could Have Been

    When Downsizing released in 2017, it came packaged as a brilliant high-concept premise: what if you could shrink yourself to five inches tall, live like royalty on a fraction of your old budget, and save the planet in the process? It was a setup ripe for wonder, satire, and visual inventiveness. And yet, instead of reveling in its own conceit, the movie skipped right over the most exciting part — the initial amazement of the small world — and wandered off into an oddly disconnected plot about a disabled Vietnamese activist and a doomsday cult preparing for the end of the world.

    It was an odd choice. Not because those subjects couldn’t work in another film, but because they made Downsizing feel less like an original and more like a second or even third sequel, the kind of thematic detour a franchise might attempt after audiences have already spent a movie or two immersed in the novelty of the concept. What we should have gotten was the obvious first story — the one that lets us live in the small world before tearing it apart.

    What We Never Saw

    Once the characters became small, the movie barely touched the premise at all. Where were the everyday hazards? Imagine weather events that barely rate a headline in the big world — “mildly windy” — becoming hurricane-level chaos for someone only a few inches tall. A boat ride on a pond would be a white-knuckle survival adventure, every ripple a towering wave.

    Insects, too, would be an unavoidable terror. A single wasp could be a life-threatening encounter, ants a creeping army. Small people would need big people for constant protection, leading to a culture of dependency where the large are worshipped like gods — and feared like demons. Anger the wrong “big” and they could crush your car with a flick of a finger.

    Even environmentalism would shift. Without the same pollution impact, litter might be ignored, garbage piling up in public spaces simply because it’s no longer seen as a global hazard. That tiny utopia could very quickly look less than perfect.

    The World Inevitably Mirrors the Old One

    The obvious long-term trajectory for a downsized society is that it would slowly become a mirror of the big world. At first, productivity might plummet — thanks to lower expenses, people could work just two hours a day and still live comfortably. But boredom and capitalism have a way of creeping back in. People would fill their empty hours with new ventures, competition would grow, and before long, many would be working eight hours again, often in jobs they didn’t like, simply because that’s how human systems drift.

    Even the architecture would become impractical. Huge mansions — cheap to build in this scale — would prove isolating and hard to maintain. Neighborhoods would empty as people moved into smaller, closer-knit communities. Those left behind would find themselves lonely in echoing houses, far from friends.

    Paul’s Story, Reimagined

    The original Downsizing handicapped itself by making Paul’s first moments in the small world miserable — the heartbreak of his wife backing out left him sulking instead of letting us share in the thrill of the transformation. In a better version, Paul’s wife would leave him before the decision, taking half their wealth and leaving downsizing as his only real option.

    He would arrive excited, wide-eyed, marveling at every new detail. But slowly, he’d notice the cracks — the wind, the pests, the creeping reappearance of social hierarchies, the loneliness of a mansion that feels more like an abandoned stage set. Eventually, Paul would see the writing on the wall: the small world is heading down the same path as the big one.

    He’d try to fight it, giving speeches, lobbying for reforms, trying to hold back the tide — but he’d fail. And in that failure, he’d find acceptance. He’d stop worrying about saving the system and instead focus on his own purpose. His world would mirror the old one, and he’d no longer be bothered by it. Because he’d finally learned that life needs struggles, that these challenges are what make people stronger.

    Start with the Obvious Before the Variations

    When a concept is this fresh, let the first story be the most obvious one — the purest exploration of the premise that made the audience buy the ticket in the first place. Once that’s been explored, you can start playing with stranger, subtler variations in sequels. Downsizing skipped the most vital chapter of its own potential saga, leaving us with glimpses of a world we wanted to live in, but never really got to experience.

    Thanks,

    Ira

  • The Last Duel (2021): One of the Decade’s Best Dramas, But Misunderstood and Mismarketed

    In 2021, The Last Duel quietly slipped through theaters. It had all the ingredients of a major prestige film: Ridley Scott directing, Matt Damon and Adam Driver headlining, Ben Affleck in a striking supporting role, and Jodie Comer delivering a performance of extraordinary restraint and power. And yet, despite the pedigree, it flopped. Many people didn’t even know what it was.

    Now, typically when we revisit a film like this, it’s to examine what went wrong with the storytelling — to tighten a plotline, fix a character arc, or reshape a missed opportunity. But in this case, we have no such complaints. The Last Duel is a storytelling triumph. Its structure is bold but effective. Its characters are complex and contradictory in the best way. The themes are heavy, but the emotional execution is razor sharp. There is nothing broken in the script that needs repairing.

    And that’s what makes its failure all the more frustrating.

    For those who saw it, The Last Duel revealed itself to be not a sword-swinging epic, but something far more intimate, painful, and relevant: a story of a woman forced to risk her life just to speak the truth. It wasn’t about chivalry. It was about Marguerite de Carrouges, a woman who accuses a powerful man, Jacques Le Gris, of rape, and must watch her fate be decided — not by reason, not by testimony, but by a duel between two men. If her husband loses, she burns alive.

    The film’s power lies in its structure. Through a Rashomon-style lens, we see the same events unfold three times: first through the eyes of Jean de Carrouges, Marguerite’s husband; then through the perspective of Le Gris, the accused; and finally, from Marguerite herself — the version the film labels, simply and chillingly, “The Truth.” Each perspective strips away another layer of ego and denial. What begins as a tale of male pride and political rivalry becomes a quiet horror story about a woman being suffocated by the silence around her.

    And yet, it was titled The Last Duel. A title that, while technically accurate — it was France’s final legally sanctioned trial by combat — completely misses the point. It sells the film as a medieval action piece when, in truth, the duel is not the heart of the story — it’s the violent punctuation on a story about justice denied. The title tells us nothing about the soul of the film. It doesn’t even hint at Marguerite.

    Imagine instead if the film had been called The Reckoning of Marguerite. With just those few words, the frame shifts. This is no longer about two men in armor — it’s about a woman confronting the men, the court, and the culture that would rather see her die than admit she might be telling the truth. “Reckoning” suggests judgment — not just legal, but moral. Not just of the men involved, but of an entire world that failed her.

    The tragedy is that many never even saw the trailer, let alone the film. In late 2021, theaters were still recovering from the pandemic. Adult audiences — the kind drawn to serious, character-driven drama — were hesitant to return to cinemas. Those who did were being pulled toward big franchise fare with clearer marketing hooks. And when The Last Duel was promoted, it leaned heavily on sword fights, stern-faced knights, and a muted color palette. The subtlety was buried. The emotional urgency never made it into the ads.

    It’s not that the film failed because it was flawed. It failed because it was brilliant in a moment that didn’t want brilliance — or didn’t know where to look for it. With a stronger title, better positioning, and a campaign that put Marguerite front and center, it could have reached the audience it was made for.

    The Reckoning of Marguerite wouldn’t have changed a single scene. But it might have changed how people saw the film — or whether they saw it at all.

    As it stands, The Last Duel is destined to be one of the great underseen dramas of its time. But perhaps, over time, word of mouth will lift it to where it belongs. Perhaps it will find a second life, not as a forgotten historical oddity, but as a razor-sharp examination of power, silence, and the price of being believed.

    And maybe one day, when someone recommends it to a friend, they won’t even call it by its original name. They’ll say: “You should watch The Reckoning of Marguerite. It’s one of the best films you’ve never seen.”

    Thanks,

    Ira