If you took an extended rant by Andy Rooney on the evils of car alarms, mixed it with a late night, dorm room bull session by a bunch of college kids who just had their first philosophy class and blended that with a man's mid-life crisis
you'd end up with something like this film. Except Noise is even worse than you'd imagine that combination could be.
This sputtering, ostentatious, anti-social and smug goulash of a movie essentially presents the equivalent of the Unabomber as not just a hero, but a moral exemplar. Chris Owen (Tim Robbins) hates noise. That makes living in New York City, one of the noisiest metropolises on Earth, a bit problematic. But that's where David lives with his wife Helen (Bridget Moynahan) and his daughter Chris (Gabrielle Brennan). David doesn't just hate noise. He rages against it as an assault on his personal dignity. He's so consumed with fury that he starts attacking cars whose alarms have gone off without reason and continue blaring without stop. Even after he gets thrown in jail for his vandalism, David still won't stop. He loses his job, but he won't stop. His wife takes his daughter and leaves him. He still won't stop. David becomes an urban vigilante known as "The Rectifier", disabling car alarms all over New York. That draws the absurdly irrational hatred of the city's mayor (William Hurt) and the attention of a young European woman named Ekaterina Filippovna (Margarita Levieva). She's captivated by David's purpose and certainty and tries to direct him away from petty theft to political progress. The mayor tries to stop them and that suddenly morphs the film into a courtroom drama.
Just in case I haven't made it perfectly clear yet Noise is horrible. It is a wildly inconsistent and alienating movie that splices political agitprop, philosophical wankery, juvenile power fantasies and middle aged desperation into one long stream of consciousness that batters against you like waves upon the rocks. This is the sort of movie that thinks a having a few lines of dialog reference Hegel makes it intellectual. It thinks it has to specifically point out the obvious contradiction in its main character because the audience is too stupid to see it themselves. It fantasizes that angry social misfits are exactly the sort of man with whom women want to have a threesome. And it glories in an unreflective, Holden Caulfieldesque sense of superiority over the rest of the world.
Tim Robbins shuffles through Noise like a severe manic-depressive whose medication occasionally wears off. William Hurt gives a bizarre performance as a 19th century anarchist's idea of what a politician is like. Bridget Moynahan might as well be a potted plant. Margarita Levieva plays a character so convenient and ephemeral that it would have made more sense for Ekaterina to be a schizophrenic hallucination that only David could see.
Noise makes it seem like writer/director Henry Bean suffers from multiple personalities and each took a turn in crafting a different part of this film. Unfortunately, all of his personalities are terminally boring and none of them know what the others are doing. Fantasy and realism, drama and melodrama, comedy and tedium rattle against each other. There's even a point where the movie acknowledges that it's fiction, presenting itself like edgy propaganda meant to provoke a response from the audience. The only response you'll want to make is to throw something at the screen.
I can't understand how anyone who read this script gave Bean the money to make this film. I can't imagine how anyone who watches Noise would ever give him any money to ever make another movie. I can only hope he can find himself some other employment so we're not subjected to any more of his work.
This sputtering, ostentatious, anti-social and smug goulash of a movie essentially presents the equivalent of the Unabomber as not just a hero, but a moral exemplar. Chris Owen (Tim Robbins) hates noise. That makes living in New York City, one of the noisiest metropolises on Earth, a bit problematic. But that's where David lives with his wife Helen (Bridget Moynahan) and his daughter Chris (Gabrielle Brennan). David doesn't just hate noise. He rages against it as an assault on his personal dignity. He's so consumed with fury that he starts attacking cars whose alarms have gone off without reason and continue blaring without stop. Even after he gets thrown in jail for his vandalism, David still won't stop. He loses his job, but he won't stop. His wife takes his daughter and leaves him. He still won't stop. David becomes an urban vigilante known as "The Rectifier", disabling car alarms all over New York. That draws the absurdly irrational hatred of the city's mayor (William Hurt) and the attention of a young European woman named Ekaterina Filippovna (Margarita Levieva). She's captivated by David's purpose and certainty and tries to direct him away from petty theft to political progress. The mayor tries to stop them and that suddenly morphs the film into a courtroom drama.
Just in case I haven't made it perfectly clear yet Noise is horrible. It is a wildly inconsistent and alienating movie that splices political agitprop, philosophical wankery, juvenile power fantasies and middle aged desperation into one long stream of consciousness that batters against you like waves upon the rocks. This is the sort of movie that thinks a having a few lines of dialog reference Hegel makes it intellectual. It thinks it has to specifically point out the obvious contradiction in its main character because the audience is too stupid to see it themselves. It fantasizes that angry social misfits are exactly the sort of man with whom women want to have a threesome. And it glories in an unreflective, Holden Caulfieldesque sense of superiority over the rest of the world.
Tim Robbins shuffles through Noise like a severe manic-depressive whose medication occasionally wears off. William Hurt gives a bizarre performance as a 19th century anarchist's idea of what a politician is like. Bridget Moynahan might as well be a potted plant. Margarita Levieva plays a character so convenient and ephemeral that it would have made more sense for Ekaterina to be a schizophrenic hallucination that only David could see.
Noise makes it seem like writer/director Henry Bean suffers from multiple personalities and each took a turn in crafting a different part of this film. Unfortunately, all of his personalities are terminally boring and none of them know what the others are doing. Fantasy and realism, drama and melodrama, comedy and tedium rattle against each other. There's even a point where the movie acknowledges that it's fiction, presenting itself like edgy propaganda meant to provoke a response from the audience. The only response you'll want to make is to throw something at the screen.
I can't understand how anyone who read this script gave Bean the money to make this film. I can't imagine how anyone who watches Noise would ever give him any money to ever make another movie. I can only hope he can find himself some other employment so we're not subjected to any more of his work.