Elysium

I’ve avoided this movie review. To avoid overselling.

But Elysium is the best flick of 2013.

Neill Blomkamp wrote and directed it as a follow-up to District 9, which earned a Best Picture nomination back in 2009.

I hesitate to call movies “perfect,” so I’ll call Elysium seamless instead.

You can watch films in one of two modes: either as a critic or as a willing member of the audience. I always try to balance both perspectives, though I lean toward the audience’s experience. I tend to forgive stretch marks and minor chinks in the armor.

That said, I couldn’t find any in Elysium. Blomkamp crafted it seamlessly. You might manage to nitpick something, but any real criticism would feel like a stretch.

The story moves fast, stakes run high, and an intelligent current flows beneath every scene. The CGI stuns, and the film depicts futuristic tech with convincing realism.

Blomkamp built a vast, intricate cast of characters. He gave each one clear motivations, real conflicts, understandable social status, and justifiable goals. Everyone in this world has a problem worth solving—and the writing reflects that care.

So enough general talk about Elysium—if you haven’t seen it, stop reading now. I’m about to spoil a few things.

Blomkamp created a story where ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ rarely matter—and yet, goodness still triumphs in a completely satisfying way.

If you study the tension beneath each scene, you’ll recognize just how horrific the conditions actually are.

Take the interaction between Damon and his robotic parole officer. It’s just one of several brilliantly dark moments. The frustration builds when he tries to explain himself and the robot cuts him off: “Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.”

Blomkamp choreographs a chilling moment. He shows how the upper class has distanced itself so far from the judicial systems of the lower class that machines now deliver all judgments. The parole bot exposes the failure of using robotics to replace human empathy—especially where moral nuance should apply. A single misstep, a moment of foolishness, no longer earns forgiveness when raw efficiency takes control.

Blomkamp returns to this theme repeatedly, weaving humanity and robotics together through fascinating channels—like the mechanical parts Matt Damon fuses with his body.

And Damon nails the role. The cocky, loose-tongued rebel archetype has been done to death, but Damon revitalizes it. Even while acting opposite a gun-toting CGI robot, he makes it feel fresh.

That man knows what he’s doing. When he mouths off to the guard in line, the scene could’ve easily come off as a cliché—but Damon pulls it off and turns it into something unsettling.

Now, I don’t like Jodie Foster as a person—but wow, her performance here is spectacular. She deserves serious credit for what she does with the role. She might even play the most compelling character in the whole story. When she dies, my moral compass spins. I want to unpack her character more, but I have to move on.

If you’ve consumed enough stories—especially as a critic—you’ll spot recycled narrative elements. Parables often show up, and most feel heavy-handed or forced.

Blomkamp plays with parable in a way that, for me, elevates Elysium.

Three months after seeing the film, I tried explaining to my mom why I love the moment when Damon interrupts the girl’s story about the hippopotamus and the meerkat. We were in the kitchen. She was chopping onions. I had to leave the room before finishing. I got so choked up I couldn’t speak.

If you’re willing to buy in—it hits hard. That moment moves you.

Sure, we’ve seen endings like this before. I’m sure some critics tried comparing it to Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. But that’s ridiculous. I admire Blomkamp’s choice to write the ending his way.

In the end, Elysium is a great film. And it deserves far more credit than it ever received.

Even if the award-season buzz overlooked it, I haven’t. And I’m eager to see what Blomkamp builds next.

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Briefer takes at IMDb & Letterboxd.

Read American Hustle for more quality 2013.