Around 57 minutes into Boaz Yakin’s dance-driven romantic drama “Aviva,” the film’s protagonist looks straight into the camera and says, “Fuck consistency and tone.” The reason for his outburst? He’s addressing the random dance number that occurred 20 minutes earlier, in which a mob of middle school boys interrupts the plot to perform a dance number out of nowhere. It does not serve the plot, it is never referenced again, and if “Aviva” needed a thesis statement, there it is practically spraypainted in bold red letters: Fuck consistency and tone.
Moving past the defiant, sexually charged experimentation of “Aviva” will be difficult for some and impossible for many. Although the plot stems from traditional roots—boy meets girl after talking online—the execution takes a nosedive into leftfield from the onset. Yakin establishes the rules of the game from the opening shots, which showcase the film’s real-life camera operators and crew milling about before cutting to Bobbi Jene Smith lying on a bed facing the audience. She’s naked.
“I’m an actress. I mean, I’m acting right now,” Smith says. “Normally, I’m a dancer and a choreographer. I’m acting in this because, given all the dancing that’s going to be happening, we thought it’d be more viable for the dancers to pull off the acting required than vice versa.” She pauses. “I didn’t write these words. They were written by what we as a species commonly refer to as a man.”
She’s not lying. Smith plays Eden, the boy mentioned in the “boy meets girl” equation referenced above. For the record, Tyler Philips also plays Eden. Likewise, the character of Aviva, the titular girl in the romantic-drama formula, is depicted by two actors as well—Zina Zinchenko and Or Schraiber—a creative decision that Yakin employs to exemplify the film’s exploration of gender dynamics within the context of romantic relationships as well as the dueling polarity between masculinity and femininity inside the individual, particularly in partnerships between men and women.
Everything you need to know about “Aviva” is listed above: It is a fluidic arthouse picture powered by expressionist dancing and emboldened by a discussion of what it means to love someone in the 21st century. If those details quicken your pulse rate and ignite your curiosity, Yakin’s impressionistic fiasco will sweep you off your feet. However, if you have rolled your eyes or sighed heavily, there is nothing here for you, dear reader.
Venturing into “Aviva” with the knowledge that the movie spawned from the mind of Boaz Yakin is both surprising and illuminating. The director’s diverse credits include “Fresh,” his gritty crime debut, the feel-good sports drama “Remember the Titans,” a Jason–Statham-led action flick (“Safe”), and “Max,” a family adventure film. Granted, the filmmaker’s latest outing does not mirror any entry pre-existent in his catalog, but it does mirror Yakin’s tendency to morph his talents to accommodate any given genre, albeit with a deep-rooted personal flair this time around.
Above all else, “Aviva” feels exceedingly personal, to the point that the film’s defiant idiosyncrasy stands as its standout charm and debilitating detriment simultaneously. Riotous DNA rages inside the movie’s genes, resulting in a wistful atmosphere and slippery non-linearity that, initially, rattles your senses and seduces you into the bohemian-esque experience of the piece. Similar to the sensation of falling in love for the first time, “Aviva” is thrilling, sensual, and fascinating, overwhelming the viewer with its structure-shattering narrative, fourth wall breaks, rampant sexuality, and emotion-soaked ambiance.
But soon, the cosmic love-high wears off, and you realize you have mistaken posturing for depth and gloss for substance. Stylistically, “Aviva” does not introduce any innovation, and the feisty rebellion quickly loses its endearment. For all its discussion of control, dominance, gender dynamics, and sexuality, “Aviva” does not contribute to the conversation but finds satisfaction in simply re-stating the obvious and commenting on established conclusions explored on the silver screen for decades, especially over the course of the past 10 years. The film’s sassy confrontation does not embody enough humor to be enjoyably self-aware, which robs its style and aesthetic choices of their significance. In short, the dance numbers and sultry chemistry between Eden and Aviva in their many forms, which are impressively choreographed and serviceably performed respectively, only serve as a distraction tactic—a smokescreen used to hide a shallow grave.
Pretention in movies is impossible to define. To some, the works of Lars Von Trier and Terrence Malick fit the definition of pretentiousness perfectly. Yet, “Melancholia” and “Tree of Life” rank as two of the most beautiful films ever made in the minds of others. Quality is subjective, and oftentimes, artistic intentions are unknowable. As such, labeling “Aviva” as pretentious would be inaccurate and irresponsible; however, calling out the film’s unneeded aggression and frail defense of its superfluous choices is, debatably, well warranted.
On the whole, Yakin’s film mistakes messiness and convolution for commentary and meaning. If you removed the movie’s emotional core and relentless desire to articulate its message by any means necessary, the director’s radical treatise on artistic independence, gender roles, and personal expression would drown in a swamp of its own creation. Thankfully, “Aviva” possesses the fingerprints of a true artist, a filmmaker determined to communicate his vision of the world by utilizing every facet of the cinematic form—to a fault. At its highpoints, “Aviva” succeeds in crafting an immersive, emotive atmosphere for the viewer to lounge in and reflect upon the collapsing institution of marriage as well as the shortcomings of modern-day intimacy.
At its worst, “Aviva” is unrepentant in its edginess and ignorant of its pompous absurdity. Combining both sides of the spectrum results in a convoluted mess, a long-winded heap of admirable intentions and inventive concepts sabotaged by miscalculated execution. If pared down and trimmed of its ego, Yakin’s latest might have made for an experimental opus that demanded your attention. As a distinctive testament to a filmmaker’s desire to continue expanding the potential of the medium, “Aviva” is a film you should be glad exists but probably skip for something better. [C-]
“Aviva” is now available in virtual cinemas.
