Written by Samuel Niles
The line, “Don’t try to understand it, feel it,” from Christopher Nolan’s Tenet has already been used to praise the film and while it may seem easy to rely on a talking point, there is no more perfect quote to describe the film.
This isn’t to say that the film is hard to follow. The plot is simple, straightforward, and is as tightly structured as the best of Nolan. The slick and compelling Protagonist (John David Washington), with the help of newfound friend Neil (Robert Pattinson) has to use “time inversion” to stop the villainous Sator (Kenneth Branagh) from executing something worse than nuclear holocaust. Every action scene, every plot twist, and every emotional beat registers.
But the best way to deconstruct the, “don’t try to understand it, feel it,” motif is to look at Tenet‘s sound design. The criticisms, while perhaps overstated, are not baseless. There were about three scenes that were audibly incomprehensible to this viewer, but they were not dramatically incomprehensible. In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter regarding Interstellar, Nolan stated that he often does this intentionally for certain scenes, describing this approach as “impressionistic” and “experiential.”
In Tenet, one such scene involves the protagonist trying to stop Sator’s henchman from pulling a wire, because when the henchman pulls the wire, a Very Bad Thing will happen. While this is going on, Sator is on a speakerphone the henchman set up, explaining his villainous plan while on holiday with his family.
Do we understand a single word that Sator and the Protagonist are saying? No.
Do we understand that Sator wants his henchman to pull the rope so that the Very Bad Thing will happen and that the protagonist needs to stop the henchman from pulling the rope? And do we understand that Sator taking this “business call” while on holiday speaks to his comfort with the massacre he’s planning? Yes.
But while Nolan’s intent and the positive experience of a single viewer can both be described, they cannot necessarily convince. It’s a bold artistic decision, but one that hasn’t worked for everyone. That said, if it does work for you, you’ll find yourself not wishing to ask the actors, “could you repeat that?”, but instead saying, “I’ll take your word for it,” as you go on a visceral storytelling ride.
And Tenet is a ride. A breathless ride unlike any other. Nolan’s interest in time and making cinematic concepts literal is as relevant as ever, using the age-old cinematic concept of “rewinding” to make the in-universe concept of “inversion”, wherein events are “undone.” Guns don’t always fire bullets, they can catch them. Cars don’t just crash and flip over, they flip right-side-up and get back on the road.
While this makes for some really, really , REALLY, cool action scenes, the thematic implications of “rewinding” an image in-universe are also compellingly explored. In most films, when something is “rewound”, it is a purely cinematic concept, and it’s often independent of will of the participants. But, in making inversion a literal, in-universe concept controlled by the characters, we’re not simply watching the flow of time or the narrative be disrupted, but watching the characters partake in changing the flow.
Throughout Nolan’s filmography, through the artifice of filmmaking, sci-fi elements have created a feeling of unreality with an emphasis on grounding the audience with in-camera effects and visceral, gritty action that feels unreal. One breathtaking example is a fist fight between the forward-moving Protagonist and an inverted foe. It’s as kinetic and visceral as the bathroom fight in Mission: Impossible—Fallout, but with a simple sci-fi twist that makes it a fight unlike any other. And as a testament to how awe-inspiring this fight is, it’s preceded by a practical 747 crash. Meaning that a 747 crashing is the opening act for a “mere” fist fight.
But the inverted fight is, itself, an introduction for how mind-boggling the rest of the action becomes. Ranging from a highway chase to a war zone, the film’s use of inversion takes other familiar, realistic action set-ups and takes them to new heights.
It’s through these simple concepts that we really see why Nolan loves to shoot on film (like Dunkirk, Tenet was shot on a mix of 65mm for the smaller scenes and 70mm IMAX for key sequences) and in-camera stunts. It’s not out of Luddism, but out of a love for the potential that still resides in these traditional filmmaking techniques and concepts.
Tenet is a testament to all this. It’s an utterly engrossing, immersive experience that’s classic, innovative, and pure Nolan.
