You can force your story’s shape, but the color will always bloom upstream.

What does that mean? What does it mean. What is Shane Carruth trying to tell me? What is he saying?

These kind of questions typically run through my mind when seeing a film. While watching Carruth’s debut film, Primer, the questions were more like “What is going on?” Despite years of acclaim, I felt underwhelmed by a film that, to me, appeared guarded and amateur; insular. Watching Primer, I felt that Carruth could care less whether or not I was watching his film.

That may be true of Upstream Color, as well. On a basic level, the story is thus: A woman is kidnapped, drugged, hypnotized, systematically robbed, awakens, and then must put her life back together, completely unaware of what has taken place under hypnosis. She falls in love with a man who has had a similar experience. Together, they discover what has happened to them.

While watching this film, I was often equal parts frustrated and wowed. The film is gorgeous. It leads with a taut visual and aural logic that is a wonder to behold. I was constantly left frustrated by the film’s less controlled narrative. The film appears to exploding with ideas at every corner, unsure of how to hold it all in. It wasn’t making sense to me. I was as frustrated as I was watching Primer. 

Suddenly it hit me. The film made sense for me. Synapses in my brain started firing. I felt chills all over. My heart started racing. My eyes went huge and I had to hold on to the person I was seeing the film with. This was big. This was something I had never experienced watching a film before. All of the confusion seemed worth it.

The further I am from this film, I continue to question if what the film gave me, personally, can be given to others. Reading all of the praise this film has received, it appears possible. However, the person I held on to when I was awash in emotions did not feel anything for this film. “It was cryptic,” she told me. “It felt like I wasn’t even supposed to figure it out, I was just supposed to know, and I hate that.”

We angrily debated the film. I could not defend my like for Upstream Color. Outside of a filmic logic, I’m not sure if anything that takes place in this film really makes sense. The tagline really feels as if it goes against whatever Carruth is trying to tell us. Distancing myself from the film, I can only speak to how I love a subplot of the film involving what appears to be aural transcendence, perhaps a partner to what Maya Deren was trying to tell us about the possibilities of cinema.

I will say that I take issue with the violence in this film. The violence committed to Amy Seimetz’s character feels like a particular violence against women that is all too pervasive in cinema, a type of violence that filmmakers believe is necessary for character development. I don’t believe it speaks to or enhances any conversation about violence against women in our world.

I do think that this film, unlike Primer, is attempting to speak about our world and the way we communicate. However, it is insular. I normally wouldn’t recommend a film like Upstream Color, but I felt things seeing this film that I have never felt watching any other film. I hope this film, or some film down the road, can do that for you, too.