Warning: Spoilers Abound
Let me just start this post by saying that I'm a big fan of the original Matrix trilogy. I saw each of the movies multiple times in the theatre, and, in fact, the first piece of prose I published on the web, way back in the early 2000s, was an argument that the first movie was much more Buddhist than it was Christian, as so many people were saying Neo was a Christ figure. I'm such a fan that, not only do I own the box set that came out shortly after Revolutions, but I think the sequels are great, including Revolutions.
In the same way that the original sequels never had a chance to stand on their own, due to the brilliance of the first film, The Matrix: Resurrections has too much baggage already attached to it for anyone to see it simply as what it is. That's partly the nature of sequels, in general, but it's excaserbated by the fact that the original movie came out of nowhere, a true example of a movie that's sui generis. I remember sitting in the theatre watching Reloaded for the second or third (maybe fourth) time, thinking, "If this movie would have been released without the first one's existing, everybody would be talking about how great it is." There was even a review of Revolutions that connected it to the Superman movie scheduled to come out a couple of years later (Superman Returns, 2006), saying that Superman's flying should look as good as the final scenes in Revolutions. Again, if the first two movies hadn't existed, people would have had almost nothing but praise for the final film in the trilogy.
Into that conversation comes The Matrix: Resurrections, and, not surprisingly, people have been quite divided on their responses. One review compared it to The Last Jedi, a movie that lived in that same space of expectations and split reactions. For the record, while I'm not nearly the fan of the Star Wars movies that I am of the Matrix series, I've watched them all and have strong reactions, thanks to my growing up with the original trilogy, and I thought The Last Jedi was by far the best movie of the recent trilogy (we will not speak of The Rise of Skywalker).
One review believes Lana Wachowski is purposefully trying to subvert audience expectations with the new movie, while another simply called it cyncial. Even more complicatedly, people disagree about why she made the movie in the first place, with the previous Hollywood Reporter review claiming that Warner Brothers was going to make the movie with or without any Wachowski involvement, an article on Forbes says such reports are completely unfounded. And, of course, that confusion should take us to Lana Wachowski's obsession in this movie: what do we mean by real?
If the first three movies explored the idea of choice vs. free will, The Matrix: Resurrections wants viewers to go past that idea (while still keeping in firmly in mind: Morpheus talks about the illusion of a choice that's no choice at all) to get to the point of what's real. The Wachowskis seem to be obsessed with choice, as it even shows up in Speed Racer and Cloud Atlas, but what they've been about on a more important level is questioning the dominant narratives of contemporary society. In the original trilogy, when the internet was still largely in its infancy, and smart phones were far from a reality, they wanted viewers to see the potential of the new technology. While there were faceless corporations that would use such technology to control people, there were still people out there who were using that technology to free people.
The 21st century, though, has shown the realities of that technology and how people--not just corporations--will use it to limit their world rather than expand it. It's easy to see the final scene in the new movie as cynical, as the Analyst refers to people as sheeple who want to be controlled, but it's hard to argue with him (he almost seems the voice of society, in fact). The scenes at the video game design company, especially the one in the elevator where Neo watches everyone on their devices, reflect the reality of 2021. At the theatre where I watched the movie, people were on their phones right up until the movie's beginning, and the screens started glowing as soon as the credits began rolling, as nobody seemed to see the irony in their behavior.
Our 21st century world blurs the line between what is real and what isn't, as virtual reality sets become more and more ubiquitous, people believe what they see (and post) on social media matches up with any idea of reality, first-person video games allowing people to live out (often quite violent) lives that become as important as the ones they actually live, and even movies have moved toward outsized superhero stories where there is always a world that needs saving. The characters in the new version of the matrix aren't so much controlled as they willingly give over an sense of agency to the smaller machines in their hands, ultimately thus giving over their control to the much larger machines they don't know exist. There's no going back to a pre-digital world (if the Merovingian is ranting about something, it's clear it has some truth, but not the important truth), so we have to learn to live well in a digital world.
The Analyst is right about what powers humanity. The Architect believed people were driven by rationality, by humanity proves that wrong on a daily basis. The Analyst argues that it's feelings and desires, and he connects those to narrative. All of that is true (as are the comments in the after-credits scene, though it's stated even more cynically than the Analyst makes it sound), but what matters is who gets to tell the stories and what those stories convey. In the world of the matrix, only the computers get to tell the story. Neo tries to tell a different story through the modal he creates, and the rebels in the real world want to tell their stories, as well. As always, it's about a truly democratic view of story vs. a monolinear idea of story. It's telling that Lana Wachowski (along with David Mitchell, whose Cloud Atlas is all about the power of story and democratic storytelling, and Aleksander Hemon) want to explore this idea of narrative now, given the Trump years of trying to control narratives (about the people who want to come to this country, about the Coronavirus, about the media, about the 2020 election, and so on) to control people. There's a reason people flocked to a much more diverse reading list in the summer of 2020 as they were trying to make sense of George Floyd's murder; we need narratives to help us make sense of the world, and when one group tries to control that narrative, we'll ultimately try to find others.
Neo, of course, is different from those around him yet again, but in a quite different way this time; he seems to be trying to live a life that blends technology and real life (much as the new rebels blend robots and humans). While he definitely uses his technological skills to create a model in the video game that helps Bugs and Morpheus find him, it is his personal connection with Trinity that ultimately leads to his (and her) true resurrection. Because he sits in the coffee shop and looks at the real world around him, he is able to see through the matrix, to know that there is something beyond the reality he sees around him. It's not cynical to call that something love. Thus, Lana Wachowski is now questioning how we love in the 21st century, not just if we have a choice, given that there are so many screens that prevent our actually seeing others as they are (and, thus, seeing ourselves as we are). This time around, it's not Neo's belief in being the one that will save humanity, but his belief in Trinity. The twist that she is the one who flies near the end of the movie is not what should be surprising to viewers (though it is for so many who wanted more of Neo as the same savior he was before, as if a different world doesn't call for a different savior); the twist is that Neo was never able to save anybody on his own in the first place: he always needed Trinity (not to mention all of the others, especially the entire population of Zion who fought for one another in the derided Revolutions).
There's another idea I haven't seen any critics really exploring. People have referenced Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss's ages, of course, but the fact that Neo and Trinity are in their fifties in this movie matters more than just how the actors' portraying them had to train for such physical roles. In the first movie, Neo was a young hacker with no ties to anybody else (and the other rebels were all unplugged so early, they hadn't had time to form a life of their own), so his (and their) giving up his life in the supposed real world came with little sacrifice. When they're driving through the matrix on their way to see the Oracle, Neo mourns eating really good noodles, but note he doesn't reference any family or friends he misses. He's the same in the new movie, of course, living what seems to be a quite isolated life.
Trinity, however, is now Tiffany, a wife and mother who cares about her family. Of course the Analyst would use her children at the end, as our society tells us such connections are important. And they are. It's extremely difficult to leave those we care about behind, even if we do so to go change the world (see the biographies of almost anybody who's taken a stand against the dominant narratives of society). It's much more difficult to reinvent oneself twenty years into a career, with a family that wants one to be the same as they've always been. Running off to a revolution at that point requires real sacrifice (such a reading of the movie ties directly into seeing it as a metaphor for the trans experience, as well, given that many families aren't supportive of such a significant life change). Trinity has a real stake in her decision to give up what so many people would love to have; her making the choice highlights the importance of it (she even references not knowing if she originally wanted a family because she was choosing one or if she was programmed (her word) to want one by society). Wachowski, as somebody who is in her mid-50s and who has relatively recently made a significant change in her life, wants people to see Trinity as a different kind of role model, one who can trade the stability of a supposedly normal life for one that matters to who she really is. The fact that she's rebelling against the standard expectations of a woman just adds to the twist Wachowski (and Moss) bring to this movie. The idea that a middle-aged woman could (and should) make such a change is one most movies, especially most blockbusters, never explore.
I'm not sure that The Matrix: Resurrections is as good as the original trilogy, but I don't know that it had a chance to be. The fact that I'm continuing to think about it and take the time to write about it, though, makes me think it's better than I'm giving it credit for at this point. It's not a movie I can drop in and watch some ballet-like actions sequences, but it is a movie that stays with me and makes me think about how I live my life. That might just be more important.
Let me just start this post by saying that I'm a big fan of the original Matrix trilogy. I saw each of the movies multiple times in the theatre, and, in fact, the first piece of prose I published on the web, way back in the early 2000s, was an argument that the first movie was much more Buddhist than it was Christian, as so many people were saying Neo was a Christ figure. I'm such a fan that, not only do I own the box set that came out shortly after Revolutions, but I think the sequels are great, including Revolutions.
In the same way that the original sequels never had a chance to stand on their own, due to the brilliance of the first film, The Matrix: Resurrections has too much baggage already attached to it for anyone to see it simply as what it is. That's partly the nature of sequels, in general, but it's excaserbated by the fact that the original movie came out of nowhere, a true example of a movie that's sui generis. I remember sitting in the theatre watching Reloaded for the second or third (maybe fourth) time, thinking, "If this movie would have been released without the first one's existing, everybody would be talking about how great it is." There was even a review of Revolutions that connected it to the Superman movie scheduled to come out a couple of years later (Superman Returns, 2006), saying that Superman's flying should look as good as the final scenes in Revolutions. Again, if the first two movies hadn't existed, people would have had almost nothing but praise for the final film in the trilogy.
Into that conversation comes The Matrix: Resurrections, and, not surprisingly, people have been quite divided on their responses. One review compared it to The Last Jedi, a movie that lived in that same space of expectations and split reactions. For the record, while I'm not nearly the fan of the Star Wars movies that I am of the Matrix series, I've watched them all and have strong reactions, thanks to my growing up with the original trilogy, and I thought The Last Jedi was by far the best movie of the recent trilogy (we will not speak of The Rise of Skywalker).
One review believes Lana Wachowski is purposefully trying to subvert audience expectations with the new movie, while another simply called it cyncial. Even more complicatedly, people disagree about why she made the movie in the first place, with the previous Hollywood Reporter review claiming that Warner Brothers was going to make the movie with or without any Wachowski involvement, an article on Forbes says such reports are completely unfounded. And, of course, that confusion should take us to Lana Wachowski's obsession in this movie: what do we mean by real?
If the first three movies explored the idea of choice vs. free will, The Matrix: Resurrections wants viewers to go past that idea (while still keeping in firmly in mind: Morpheus talks about the illusion of a choice that's no choice at all) to get to the point of what's real. The Wachowskis seem to be obsessed with choice, as it even shows up in Speed Racer and Cloud Atlas, but what they've been about on a more important level is questioning the dominant narratives of contemporary society. In the original trilogy, when the internet was still largely in its infancy, and smart phones were far from a reality, they wanted viewers to see the potential of the new technology. While there were faceless corporations that would use such technology to control people, there were still people out there who were using that technology to free people.
The 21st century, though, has shown the realities of that technology and how people--not just corporations--will use it to limit their world rather than expand it. It's easy to see the final scene in the new movie as cynical, as the Analyst refers to people as sheeple who want to be controlled, but it's hard to argue with him (he almost seems the voice of society, in fact). The scenes at the video game design company, especially the one in the elevator where Neo watches everyone on their devices, reflect the reality of 2021. At the theatre where I watched the movie, people were on their phones right up until the movie's beginning, and the screens started glowing as soon as the credits began rolling, as nobody seemed to see the irony in their behavior.
Our 21st century world blurs the line between what is real and what isn't, as virtual reality sets become more and more ubiquitous, people believe what they see (and post) on social media matches up with any idea of reality, first-person video games allowing people to live out (often quite violent) lives that become as important as the ones they actually live, and even movies have moved toward outsized superhero stories where there is always a world that needs saving. The characters in the new version of the matrix aren't so much controlled as they willingly give over an sense of agency to the smaller machines in their hands, ultimately thus giving over their control to the much larger machines they don't know exist. There's no going back to a pre-digital world (if the Merovingian is ranting about something, it's clear it has some truth, but not the important truth), so we have to learn to live well in a digital world.
The Analyst is right about what powers humanity. The Architect believed people were driven by rationality, by humanity proves that wrong on a daily basis. The Analyst argues that it's feelings and desires, and he connects those to narrative. All of that is true (as are the comments in the after-credits scene, though it's stated even more cynically than the Analyst makes it sound), but what matters is who gets to tell the stories and what those stories convey. In the world of the matrix, only the computers get to tell the story. Neo tries to tell a different story through the modal he creates, and the rebels in the real world want to tell their stories, as well. As always, it's about a truly democratic view of story vs. a monolinear idea of story. It's telling that Lana Wachowski (along with David Mitchell, whose Cloud Atlas is all about the power of story and democratic storytelling, and Aleksander Hemon) want to explore this idea of narrative now, given the Trump years of trying to control narratives (about the people who want to come to this country, about the Coronavirus, about the media, about the 2020 election, and so on) to control people. There's a reason people flocked to a much more diverse reading list in the summer of 2020 as they were trying to make sense of George Floyd's murder; we need narratives to help us make sense of the world, and when one group tries to control that narrative, we'll ultimately try to find others.
Neo, of course, is different from those around him yet again, but in a quite different way this time; he seems to be trying to live a life that blends technology and real life (much as the new rebels blend robots and humans). While he definitely uses his technological skills to create a model in the video game that helps Bugs and Morpheus find him, it is his personal connection with Trinity that ultimately leads to his (and her) true resurrection. Because he sits in the coffee shop and looks at the real world around him, he is able to see through the matrix, to know that there is something beyond the reality he sees around him. It's not cynical to call that something love. Thus, Lana Wachowski is now questioning how we love in the 21st century, not just if we have a choice, given that there are so many screens that prevent our actually seeing others as they are (and, thus, seeing ourselves as we are). This time around, it's not Neo's belief in being the one that will save humanity, but his belief in Trinity. The twist that she is the one who flies near the end of the movie is not what should be surprising to viewers (though it is for so many who wanted more of Neo as the same savior he was before, as if a different world doesn't call for a different savior); the twist is that Neo was never able to save anybody on his own in the first place: he always needed Trinity (not to mention all of the others, especially the entire population of Zion who fought for one another in the derided Revolutions).
There's another idea I haven't seen any critics really exploring. People have referenced Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss's ages, of course, but the fact that Neo and Trinity are in their fifties in this movie matters more than just how the actors' portraying them had to train for such physical roles. In the first movie, Neo was a young hacker with no ties to anybody else (and the other rebels were all unplugged so early, they hadn't had time to form a life of their own), so his (and their) giving up his life in the supposed real world came with little sacrifice. When they're driving through the matrix on their way to see the Oracle, Neo mourns eating really good noodles, but note he doesn't reference any family or friends he misses. He's the same in the new movie, of course, living what seems to be a quite isolated life.
Trinity, however, is now Tiffany, a wife and mother who cares about her family. Of course the Analyst would use her children at the end, as our society tells us such connections are important. And they are. It's extremely difficult to leave those we care about behind, even if we do so to go change the world (see the biographies of almost anybody who's taken a stand against the dominant narratives of society). It's much more difficult to reinvent oneself twenty years into a career, with a family that wants one to be the same as they've always been. Running off to a revolution at that point requires real sacrifice (such a reading of the movie ties directly into seeing it as a metaphor for the trans experience, as well, given that many families aren't supportive of such a significant life change). Trinity has a real stake in her decision to give up what so many people would love to have; her making the choice highlights the importance of it (she even references not knowing if she originally wanted a family because she was choosing one or if she was programmed (her word) to want one by society). Wachowski, as somebody who is in her mid-50s and who has relatively recently made a significant change in her life, wants people to see Trinity as a different kind of role model, one who can trade the stability of a supposedly normal life for one that matters to who she really is. The fact that she's rebelling against the standard expectations of a woman just adds to the twist Wachowski (and Moss) bring to this movie. The idea that a middle-aged woman could (and should) make such a change is one most movies, especially most blockbusters, never explore.
I'm not sure that The Matrix: Resurrections is as good as the original trilogy, but I don't know that it had a chance to be. The fact that I'm continuing to think about it and take the time to write about it, though, makes me think it's better than I'm giving it credit for at this point. It's not a movie I can drop in and watch some ballet-like actions sequences, but it is a movie that stays with me and makes me think about how I live my life. That might just be more important.