If the tale of the ark appeared in the celestial Zodiac, what shape would the constellation form?

A semi-circle probably best captures it.

Luckily, Noah claims the first ten stars of 2014.

Better call a stellar carpenter—cosmic construction has officially begun.

I’d gladly shift a few distant suns on behalf of Darren Aronofsky’s epic.

If you disagree, well, I guess that makes you an idiot then, doesn’t it?

Aronofsky deliberately distances Noah from its Biblical roots. Case in point: he avoids using the word “God,” opting for “The Creator” instead.

You can’t quantify the power in that one decision, but along with other bold alterations, Aronofsky elevates this ancient tale. He transforms the classic Bible story into something more universal.

After all, the flood myth appears far beyond Genesis—in The Epic of Gilgamesh, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and countless other sacred texts. No matter the nationality, nearly everyone on Earth knows some version of a great flood.

In Noah, Aronofsky uses Genesis as a launchpad to retell the cataclysm through a modern lens.

Animated cutaways play a small but crucial role. By merging time-lapse cinematography with CGI, Aronofsky layers depictions of the Big Bang and evolution over Noah’s narration of the Biblical creation.

Those time lapses explode off the screen.

Speaking of creation, how about capturing an entire life cycle in less than a blink? One stunning shot tracks a raindrop from cloud formation to splashdown on Noah’s cheek—all from a first-person perspective.

Another brilliant take silhouettes Noah and Naameh in conversation on a hillside, backlit by a rainbow dusk.

Russell Crowe absolutely owns the role of Noah. He blends so completely into every part he takes. This one’s no different—he cements his place in cinematic history.

Still, I think Emma Watson turns in the strongest performance as Il-la. She’s excellent—and yes, she brings the waterworks.

That’s some high-stakes emotion for a PG-13 film. If you’re an overbearing parent, maybe skip this one for your freshly teened offspring. But just remember—blocking access to films this well-crafted might delay their intellectual growth.

If our ratings system made more sense, PG-13 would mean: “Any kid who feels ready for the dark stuff.”

This cast runs deep. Anthony Hopkins brings a spark of mischief to Methuselah—the 969-year-old man of legend. He gives the role nuance and unexpected charm.

I won’t spoil the ending—but trust me, it satisfies.

Aronofsky also highlights overlooked elements of the story: the horrific soundscape of humans dying outside the ark, incense used to lull animals to sleep, the dilemma of letting snakes on board.

Here’s one of my favorite details: Aronofsky frames Noah not just as a saint, but as a man devoted to a divine task. Even in a rare moment of calm, we see him carving a miniature hull—recreating the ark in model form. The man even relaxes through craftsmanship. His hobby mirrors his calling.

And then there’s zohar—a gold walnut-like mineral. Aronofsky invents it as a combustible power source, a form of currency, a symbol of divine energy, and a catalyst for war.

Zohar’s a fantastic mythological creation. Because it supposedly vanished before recorded history, it feels believable. Writers need tools like this—it simplifies plot devices that don’t translate easily into visual storytelling.

And you know what? Zohar works. It fits the archetype.

Now, as a reviewer, I try to anticipate potential criticisms—even for films I love.

In this case, I struggled to find any. Maybe it runs two minutes long. That’s it.

Still, I thought of my Proverbial Audience. I asked myself: How can I best prepare readers?

So, I checked in with three negative reviews—let’s call them Reviewers 1, 2, and 3—to see what their objections were.

If you haven’t seen Noah, stop here and enjoy it fresh. If you come back disappointed, I’ll explain why your opinion’s wrong.

(I kid. Feedback welcome—especially if spell-checked.)

Anyway, most complaints fell into two categories: A) minor nitpicks, and B) full-on absurdity.

Let’s start with the first group. These critics gripe about “The Watchers,” supposed eco-preachiness, imperfect CGI, or Noah’s depiction straying too far (or not far enough) from Scripture.

Fair enough—those points aren’t outrageous. But none of them qualify as deal-breakers. Frankly, they make me question the reviewers’ motives.

Now, I’ll address “The Watchers,” since that gets the most heat. But the rest? Not worth your time.

In Aronofsky’s film, the Nephilim—fallen angels—take the form of massive stone golems. It’s the most dramatic departure from the original narrative.

Zohar ties into their lore. That golden light humanizes them. It gives them emotional weight and roots them in the film’s mythos. Their glowing cores and craggy bodies turn them into spiritual titans—part miracle, part machinery.

Reviewer #2 dismisses them as “rejects from a Peter Jackson superproduction… there to up the fanboy-kewl quotient.”

My brain hurts just repeating those words.

Reviewer #3 calls them “Stone Giants from The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.” That’s slightly more coherent—but still a stretch.

There’s no meaningful comparison. Outside of scenic beauty, Noah and THAUJ have nothing in common. The Hobbit features boxing mountains and indestructible dwarves—it’s terrible. Don’t even start.

Reviewer #2 also calls the Watchers “rock Transformers.” I won’t dignify that with commentary.

Bottom line: the Watchers rule.

But the backlash points to a deeper issue—people assume that any film with epic scale, CGI battles, and a sweeping tone must lack originality.

Reviewer #3 mentions a “War of the Rings-style battle.” He eventually walks it back. Reviewer #1 draws a bunch of similar comparisons.

But seriously, viewers can’t think this way. Comparing Noah to Lord of the Rings because of landscape shots or scope is like comparing Office Space to Swimming with Sharks because both take place in offices.

Reviewer #1 also writes: “Readers who remember their Sunday school lessons will no doubt be miffed by this reimagining of Noah as a muscle-bound wanderer and proto-environmentalist.”

First of all, Catholics call it CCD.

My dad taught my sixth-grade CCD class—including the lesson on Noah. My best friend, who sat next to me in that same class, saw Noah with me in theaters.

Neither of us felt “miffed.” Not even a little.

Reviewer #1’s entire conclusion rests on false assumptions. He claims the film “barely engages with religious ideas,” and that “faith, fate, and free will go out the window.”

That’s nonsense. The entire film is a meditation on faith, fate, and free will.

Sure, we assume Noah survives. But anyone else? Fair game.

Every single thread of tension emerges from whether Noah’s actions reflect obedience, madness, or both—and whether that obedience justifies the cost.

Reviewer #1 finishes with: “Aronofsky affords neither God nor man much dimension… viewers may end up sympathizing with the teeming masses.”

Oddly, that part contains a decent point.

Yes, Noah invites viewers to question both sides. That’s called complexity. Nuance. That’s good writing.

When Tubal-Cain makes his final plea to The Creator, I nearly cried. The dread in that moment runs deep—and Ray Winstone delivers.

He plays a conflicted, sorrowful villain. Not some sniveling cartoon.

So yeah, Aronofsky gives his characters dimension. More than enough.

Reviewer #1 should consider adding some to his argument—before I add a boot to his ass.

[Wrangled it, whew.]

Let me end with two of my favorite insights.

First, a rare good quote from Reviewer #3. He speculates that Noah’s character “reflects modern-day zealots who believe they hold a monopoly on truth.” That’s a relevant angle—and one I hadn’t considered.

Finally, a personal note. When I saw Aronofsky’s angels ascend into heaven, I felt a surge of joy. The image hit hard. The animation was perfect. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen that moment rendered the way I’ve always imagined it.

I’ve pictured it that way since before I can remember.

Now how’s that for oxymoronic?

★★★★★ ★★★★★

More condensed critiques at IMDb and Letterboxd.

For actual LOTR talk read War of the Rohirrim.