The other day, I was riding the bus with a friend and the conversation turned to Wes Anderson. “I loved The Life Aquatic–at least, until the end,” my friend shared.
I was mildly shocked at this disavowal of one of my favorite movies. “How come?”
“It just ruined it for me,” she sniffed. “The movie should have ended five minutes earlier. It was just too over the top, too flashy, too loud…too unexpected.”
“Oh.” I thought over what she had said. “I used to agree with what you’re saying now, but the more I’ve thought about the film, the more I’ve realized how integral the end is to Anderson’s plot and what he’s exploring re. the framework of how we identify ourselves, the search for meaning and purpose, the cost of that search…I guess I think the ending is bittersweet, but not out of place in the slightest.”
That very same night, back in my apartment, I finished Asterios Polyp. As I processed the final pages, I swiftly realized my thoughts toward its ending were rather similar to my processing of Anderson’s comedy.
When that asteroid plummets towards earth, at first I was a bit shocked. Then I was amused–this is precisely how I used to finish off the stories I wrote in elementary school: with a bang, a flash, a conveniently placed atomic bomb–The End. Laziness aside, I was actually tapping into a long and respected literary convention. After all, similarly dire conclusions repeatedly seem to be the penultimate conclusions to all the problems of humanity’s own existence, regardless whether it’s a believer or a nonbeliever predicting the future (delusional utopian idealists aside, that is). I digress: the more I think about it, the more I think it would be a mistake to simply write off that asteroid in Asterios Polyp simply as a way to tie up loose plot threads.
Nor is it meant to be merely an ironic twist at the end of the narrative. “There are times when a beautiful image makes sense as good storytelling in ways that are not easily explained,” commented the author in an interview re. his artistic process. No, irony is too convenient, too cheap.
After all, this isn’t an unprecedented element in the plot. There is the slight matter of the titular character’s name, for starters. Just as importantly, and a bit like Steve Zissou’s opening encounter with the Giant Jaguar Shark, it takes a force of nature to shock Asterios (pun intended) into fresh action, early on in the story. That action is so very important throughout what happens next. And at least in my opinion, the action matters more than the causation (must be the humanist in me!) even as it is amplified and complicated through Mazzucchelli playing with huge meta-themes of freewill vs predestination via a long-lost twin, grecian myth, etc.
According to another friend of mine, Asterios Polyp is all about how we “order our lives according to particular structures,” certain frameworks of belief, different worldviews… I would agree; Mazzucchelli overtly plays with this by creating Asterios as an architect (more meta self awareness, of course!) And by the end, Asterios has engaged in a dramatic (perhaps even redemptive?) re-appraisal of the structures of his life. The resulting character growth is all the more poignant for its conclusion.
Yes, there are events that Asterios encounters that are far above and beyond his control. Call it fate, call it supernatural, call it nature–it matters not; in the end, “man knows not his days.” What does matter how Asterios conducts himself in the meantime–and it matters all the more for the uncertainty.
And yes, Mazzucchelli seems to think that we all have a choice in such conduct. Asterios is no Jimmy Corrigan–he is vastly more sympathetic and endowed with a great deal more agency.
Throughout the work, I think that Mazzucchelli posits that Asterios’ actions/structures do matter, both to himself and to the characters around him. I cannot help reading a very real sincerity–one that is, yes, bittersweet–in the character arc and in the ending.
Am I alone in this?
Josh,
In many ways, you helped me fit that meteor/asteroid/comet into the narrative itself — that event, the heavenly body that is almost (too) perfectly aimed at Hana’s house and is guaranteed to kill both Asterios and his (until very recently) estranged wife, interrupted Asterios’ redemption so completely that to say the both the image and the unexpected plot point “jumped out at me” is an understatement. I didn’t feel cheated by the ending, I felt as though the stunning image of the meteor hurtling towards Asterios and Hana felt forced, the only such incident in an otherwise wonderfully effortless graphic novel. I didn’t assume Destiny, Fate, or Irony — Mazzucchelli never seemed to take “the easy way out” at any other point in the story, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt even in the face of this jarring twist — I was, to be completely honest, crushed (yes, I went there) by the fact that Asterios’ redemption, the driving energy of the narrative, was not only about to be cut short and seemed not only in vain, but pointless, when it was precisely the importance of Asterios’ redemption (an importance that I played a large role in putting into and getting from the text) that made the graphic narrative so appealing to me.
You definitely grabbed my full attention by referencing “The Life Aquatic ” — also one of my favorite films, and a film I often have to defend my feelings for — but I may have sided quite firmly with your friend had it been Zissou who was killed at the end, just as redemption seemed a hair’s breadth away. “The Life Aquatic” is “Papa Steve” Zissou’s film, just as “Asterios Polyp” is Asterios’ story, with the title overtly expressing this. That descending mass of space rock fell upon “our (anti-)hero,” not on the family that took him in or another supporting character, and that took me aback. We get to watch Zissou walk away (to David Bowie’s “Queen Bitch,” no less) at the end of “The Life Aquatic”; with Asterios, he is crushed by a gigantic meteor.
That said, your post has done quite a bit towards reconciling me with the text’s end — a reconciliation I very much welcome seeing how much I enjoyed this particular work, so thank you. I especially like your point about profound acts of nature bookending this narrative: the lightning strike and the meteor; the very force (or at least a distinctly similar one) that propelled Asterios kills him. That kind of ending I can handle, and I am glad you saw it because I did not. Now at least I have some time before class to let it all sink in, to perhaps even reread those final pages again.
It’s interesting in a narrative that seems to suggest that we can change, that we have some control over our own lives, the journey starts and ends with events very much out of the control of the character — we can become better people, but we can also be hit by a bus: this is the world we live and will die in.
And now I want to watch “The Life Aquatic” again.
Lars,
You’re quite right, the comparison breaks down the most when you note who died in each respective story. I also agree that the rest of the story seems so effortless that the impact of the meteor is all the more jarring.
I wonder, ‘though–was it really that bad of a way for a character to exit the scene? The narrative, after all, certainly ended on a relatively high relational note (not to mention a literal blaze of glory).
As for rewatching LIFE AQUATIC–when do you want to come over??!
J
I hate that movie…
Come over whenever so I can tell you how your opinions are all wrong.
Josh & Lars,
To me the ending wasn’t bittersweet at all. I don’t think it’s because I’m a callous person, but rather that first, we don’t actually see the aftermath. You are both making the assumption that this asteroid has destroyed the lives of Hana and Asterios, but given the point of view of the page, the asteroid could easily be very close to the viewer as opposed to the house. Second, when they were all talking about asteroids it was Asterios who pointed out that every day a small asteroid landed somewhere on Earth.
But even if it does kill them, I don’t think that that act does anything to the story. The aftermath is not included, only the potential for incoming doom. We don’t know who walks away and who doesn’t and in the context of the story it doesn’t matter. In this moment Asterios, Hana, and the family that took Asterios in are all complete and happy. The Asteroid might destroy that, but it might not and I think the outcome you see depends on your perspective, which I think it a huge part of the story – since reality might in fact be an extension of self.
I think that’s a pretty plausible reading! Nonetheless, it would seem that most people perceive the meteorite as a catastrophic event, so I think it’s worth exploring the ramifications as such…
For the record, I loved the original post in this thread. Good stuff.