Prospero's Books is the only other Greenaway film I've seen. While I struggled a bit with that one and had some difficulty with getting a handle on Greenaway's style (I plan to revisit it in the future), I still enjoyed it quite a bit and found it to be one of, if not, the most unique book-to-film adaptation I've ever seen. I'd say I enjoyed this one a decent bit less, but I still found plenty to like and, for the most part, enjoyed my time with it.
The most prominent aspect of it is that it's shot in the style of a staged play which is represented by an audience watching the play as the actors/actresses perform it in front of them. This was an interesting premise and I was curious to see how it would develop, beyond the initial function of it being a distancing technique of course. Initially, I wasn't sure what to make of this aspect (specifically, the handling of it in the final act), but it all started to come together when I thought about the film from the perspective of the audience members watching the play who had no idea what was actually going on. If you've seen the film, you'll know that a shocking sequence of violence occurs in the final act which completely changes the initial purpose of the staged play aspect. The violence shown in the "play" is real, but nobody in the audience understood what was going on and thought it was part of the act. Since the full extent to the heinous nature of the act doesn't translate to the audience, this means they aren't feeling the real-life visceral power of the act. They're instead feeling a disturbing, yet watered down depiction of the act. Beyond that, however, this dynamic doesn't just solely apply to this film. This also applies for pretty much all films which display extreme violence (murder, torture, rape, etc.). Of course, there's all kinds of disturbing films out there which depict these acts and most directors and actors involved in these scenes do as much as they can to make these scenes as realistic as possible. However, as disturbing as these scenes may be, the knowledge that the people in them are just actors and that nobody is actually getting hurt or killed during filming means that these acts are both watered down and a misrepresentation of the actual seriousness of the act. Until actors/actresses are actually hurt and killed on set (which, obviously, won't ever become standard), all films which show these scenes, as disturbing as their portrayal of the act may be, will always fail to capture the true heinous nature of the acts. Due to this, The Baby of Macon acts as a criticism of all films which feature extreme violence by arguing that the medium is unable to properly represent this.
While this is a terrific point in and of itself, the more I thought about the staged play dynamic, the less supportive I was with it. Beyond the final act, I don't think the rest of the film did nearly enough with this dynamic to keep me that engaged with what came prior. That so much of the film's strengths would be lost without its climactic scene makes me wonder whether Greenaway was interested in developing this point all throughout the film or if he was saving the majority of his commentary for the final act. Like, doing something like this isn't inherently bad or anything (I thought Five Easy Pieces, for example, didn't kick in until its final act, but I still really liked it). I also have no intention of writing this film off entirely or dismissing it as average since I appreciated a decent bit of what came prior to the final act such as the care in which everything was put together, the unique framing of the film, the occasional scenes of the actors in the play talking to each other while they weren't performing (at one point, this foreshadowed the final act), and the unexpected shift into violence in the second half. On the other hand though, the film could often be problematic with its bloat given that some points were lingered on longer than necessary, like the Bishop's son distrusting the Daughter and the lengthy sequence of the Baby acquiring a cult-like following amongst the townsfolks. Emphasizing those aspects seemed to serve no point beyond restating those points that were already made clear, often causing the film to feel longer than it really was. I also found the fairly frequent naked/sexualized shots of the main child actor to be really disconcerting. Due to this, when I rewatched the film after getting a good handle on its themes, I found myself somewhat disinterested in most of what came before the final act and found myself impatiently waiting for it to happen. Again, the strengths of the final act are strong enough to shine through this, but I couldn't shake the feeling that a decent portion of the film failed to connect with me throughout both my viewings of it.
Overall, while I found this film to be a bit of a chore to get through, I'm still recommending it since the points it makes in its final act are strong and layered enough that they're able to shine through its flaws. I'll definitely keep going with Greenaway's films.
The most prominent aspect of it is that it's shot in the style of a staged play which is represented by an audience watching the play as the actors/actresses perform it in front of them. This was an interesting premise and I was curious to see how it would develop, beyond the initial function of it being a distancing technique of course. Initially, I wasn't sure what to make of this aspect (specifically, the handling of it in the final act), but it all started to come together when I thought about the film from the perspective of the audience members watching the play who had no idea what was actually going on. If you've seen the film, you'll know that a shocking sequence of violence occurs in the final act which completely changes the initial purpose of the staged play aspect. The violence shown in the "play" is real, but nobody in the audience understood what was going on and thought it was part of the act. Since the full extent to the heinous nature of the act doesn't translate to the audience, this means they aren't feeling the real-life visceral power of the act. They're instead feeling a disturbing, yet watered down depiction of the act. Beyond that, however, this dynamic doesn't just solely apply to this film. This also applies for pretty much all films which display extreme violence (murder, torture, rape, etc.). Of course, there's all kinds of disturbing films out there which depict these acts and most directors and actors involved in these scenes do as much as they can to make these scenes as realistic as possible. However, as disturbing as these scenes may be, the knowledge that the people in them are just actors and that nobody is actually getting hurt or killed during filming means that these acts are both watered down and a misrepresentation of the actual seriousness of the act. Until actors/actresses are actually hurt and killed on set (which, obviously, won't ever become standard), all films which show these scenes, as disturbing as their portrayal of the act may be, will always fail to capture the true heinous nature of the acts. Due to this, The Baby of Macon acts as a criticism of all films which feature extreme violence by arguing that the medium is unable to properly represent this.
While this is a terrific point in and of itself, the more I thought about the staged play dynamic, the less supportive I was with it. Beyond the final act, I don't think the rest of the film did nearly enough with this dynamic to keep me that engaged with what came prior. That so much of the film's strengths would be lost without its climactic scene makes me wonder whether Greenaway was interested in developing this point all throughout the film or if he was saving the majority of his commentary for the final act. Like, doing something like this isn't inherently bad or anything (I thought Five Easy Pieces, for example, didn't kick in until its final act, but I still really liked it). I also have no intention of writing this film off entirely or dismissing it as average since I appreciated a decent bit of what came prior to the final act such as the care in which everything was put together, the unique framing of the film, the occasional scenes of the actors in the play talking to each other while they weren't performing (at one point, this foreshadowed the final act), and the unexpected shift into violence in the second half. On the other hand though, the film could often be problematic with its bloat given that some points were lingered on longer than necessary, like the Bishop's son distrusting the Daughter and the lengthy sequence of the Baby acquiring a cult-like following amongst the townsfolks. Emphasizing those aspects seemed to serve no point beyond restating those points that were already made clear, often causing the film to feel longer than it really was. I also found the fairly frequent naked/sexualized shots of the main child actor to be really disconcerting. Due to this, when I rewatched the film after getting a good handle on its themes, I found myself somewhat disinterested in most of what came before the final act and found myself impatiently waiting for it to happen. Again, the strengths of the final act are strong enough to shine through this, but I couldn't shake the feeling that a decent portion of the film failed to connect with me throughout both my viewings of it.
Overall, while I found this film to be a bit of a chore to get through, I'm still recommending it since the points it makes in its final act are strong and layered enough that they're able to shine through its flaws. I'll definitely keep going with Greenaway's films.