Samsara: A movie I hate to hate

I should like Samsara.  I’m the perfect demographic: a young, artist-type who believes the interconnectivity between humans and between humans and nature is of utmost important.  I should have left the theater awed by the camera work and elaborate visual effects of the film.  None of these things happened.  I left Samsara feeling exhausted, slightly confused, and upset that I spent $9 on something that fell completely flat for me.  “Why?” I asked myself.  “I was supposed to like this movie…”
Ultimately, Samsara came off as a jumble of shots from a National Geographic movie.  Yes, they were visually interesting.  Yes, they provoked emotional reactions (intrigue, disgust, wonder…).  But, they lacked coherence and a straightforward message.  I found myself wondering what this film was trying to be or what it was trying to say.  In one breath it told us through its images (there was no dialogue in this film) about meat packing factories, Victoria Falls, plastic surgery, robotics, Tibetan sand art, volcanoes, Hurrican Katrina, guns, LA traffic patterns, sex dolls, and Greco-Roman art.  I watched the elaborate time-lapse photography of stars in the desert or the still images of African tribal men holding guns and I thought, “Where is this leading me?  And why?”

Movie critic Ron Wilkinson might have summed it up best when he said, “[Samsara is] a rambling assault on the visual cortex that teeters between guided meditation and guided tour.”

Agreed.

I will say this, however:  That damn film has been haunting me for a week.  When I’m out for a run or driving to work, I sometimes find images of dancing Indian girls or the theatrical clay man (probably the creepiest part of the film) sneaking into my thoughts.  The visuals stick with you (whether you’d like them to or not).  And maybe that’s precisely what the filmmakers intended.
However, when the images fade and life rambles on, I doubt many people’s lives will be changed by Samsara.  It simply doesn’t have the sticking power of a film with a strong central message.  For me, it was like reading War and Peace.  I can now say I did it, but I won’t likely do it again.