Bigger Than Life

As much as we’d like to think otherwise, a film like Bigger Than Life would never receive the green light in today’s cinema. Some modern directors, often, do not have the courage to bring forth a compelling story of the exact opposite desires of the audience. It is in the very nature of being human to hide away from our own faults, tribulations, and mistakes. I, like many others, have seen films that deal with the ugly side of humanity in the various psychological thrillers and politically driven films that flood the box office every year. But among such works, even with their powerfully cynical takes on the world, lies an absence in the imminent danger of oneself, even in their most comfortable of positions. When Nicholas Ray makes a film, he retroactively looks at the flaws of humanity. In a Lonely Place, for example, paints a gripping portrait of a dangerously unstable screenwriter, who may or may not have committed a murder. And while this film is nearly flawless in its execution, arguably alongside other Ray films, it doesn’t ache the viewer on such an intense and universal level as does Bigger Than Life. Bigger Than Life follows schoolteacher Ed Avery (James Mason) as he agrees to experiment with a mysterious prescription drug soon after being hospitalized. His recovery, thanks to the drug, occurs impressively quick, yet the treatment’s mental toll on Ed begins to incite problems with his family and household. Soon, violent outbursts and abuse run rampant through the Avery household, all tracing back to Ed’s use of the drug. Already, through Ed’s occupation being that of a schoolteacher, Ray implies that such an individual as close to the comfort of many people lies on the brink of complete endangerment to those around them. Greatly heightened by this attribute, is Ed’s paternal role in the household. His transformation from a caring father into one who personifies great danger is perhaps Ray’s boldest commentary of humanism. Ironically contrasting this derisive narrative is the ever-present visual characteristics of 50s cinema. The film boasts a prolific cast despite the very “indie” and controversial sentiments such actors portray throughout. And, just as in Rebel Without a Cause, Ray implements a vibrant array of technicolor cinematography in the film. Through Technicolor, the filmmaker becomes entirely liberated to juxtapose the contents of the story with an otherwise lively display --- per Black Narcissus, and among many other similarly accomplished films. Bigger Than Life seems to lose its merit during the coda, when Ray captures Ed’s return to normality and concludes on a “happy ending.” If not for this singular factor, perhaps the film would garner, much-deserved, attention by contemporary film critics and theorist as fundamental to the evolution of cinema as art. But, even with this disarming closure, the film still manages to express a uniquely powerful blow to the calm and communal picture of suburban life, and subsequently society as a whole. Upon viewing Bigger Than Life, I can’t help but speculate on the arrival of a similarly unrestrained filmmaker, one who can find the balance between art as aestheticism, engagement, and political commentary, in a state much in need of something new.

Time Stamp: October 2023