“I feel like I ambushed you,” said my vegetarian movie companion at the end of watching Unity. But I didn’t feel that way. Sure, the movie uses over-the-top images to promote against cruel treatment of animals (which I too am against), but as the writer and director noted during the Q&A after the film (the Q&A was filmed at the LA premier earlier this year), only 14 of the 98 minutes of the movie involved such images or attention. Further, I personally don’t know anyone who wants cruel treatment or needless suffering for animals, even for animals as food sources. So the movie did not make me feel uncomfortable in that sense. Yes, even at only fifteen percent of the film, those images are strong, but Unity is not just a film about being vegetarian or vegan.
What is it? The best I can say is that it’s a movie that takes stills and video footage, none of them seeming to be original, voiced-over by a seemingly endless list of stars, that promotes an end to violence and war and hurt and attempts to encourage compassion by focusing on the conscience. Don’t get me wrong: I’m on that train too: let’s not hurt each other. Alas, the movie tried too hard to do too much. It was scattered and broad and poorly focused. And in trying to have some such message, it wound up saying too little about too much. The movie is so broad, it’s hard to write about it without touching on all of those (too many) parts. So while I can agree with that broad message of “stop hurting each other,” the movie just flops at delivering a streamlined point or offering a solution other than, “stop.”
First, a note is warranted about those stars who narrate (sometimes barely more than a sentence or two): they are many (about 100 of them) and varied. But the film displayed a disclaimer early in the opening credits, noting that the words spoken were not necessarily those of the narrator, only of the writer. I do wonder, though, how many people who watched the film will falsely attribute the thoughts and ideas behind the words to those who spoke them.
The movie tried to break itself into five or six parts, beginning with “Cosmos.” Yes, it went *that* big. Now, I will say that this was effective in that I was amazed with that, and I loved the reinforcement of the understanding of just how little we and our planet are in the grand universe. That was a powerful message. But instead of reinforcing the message the film seemed to try to make—how important all life on our planet is because of the teensy chance of supporting life that our planet overcame—for me, the message was how insignificant what happens on our tiny planet might be in the huge wide universe. I don’t think that was the writer’s intent.
The movie then took a hard turn into how we treat each other. But the only focus was the most deplorable of inhumane behavior, using footage we don’t typically see, because of its graphic content, on the nightly news. These images too were powerful. To watch a human being kick in the head of another, followed by a second person approaching to take his turn at the kicking, that was sickening. But I’m not sure what exactly the film proposed we do about any of this other than stop all war. Okay, sure, let’s stop all war. Um, excuse me, Mr. Film-Maker: How?
Carrying on with inhumane treatment, the movie focused also on animals (the focus of the opening scene*). Unfortunately, the movie used weak and illogical arguments when it seemed to try to pretend it used reason. Yes, the images were powerful; I’m sure no one wants to see fully packed wire crates of cats and dogs being shipped in some unnamed country as a food source. Anyone can be affected by seeing a newborn calf removed from its mother. But it does nothing for this girl to show two cows in a shoot, nervous and wanting to leave, as if to try to indicate they knew of their impending death. Trust me, cows in a shoot about to receive medicine to make them better behave the same way. And trying to analogize the human nutrition needs to that of a horse or elephant is as derailed of an argument as I’ve ever heard. I know I can be logical to a fault and to the grand frustration of others, so maybe I’m in the minority of how others reacted to this part. But all I try to do here is to share my reflections.
I think it was about his point the movie tried to define love. Yes, love. As if already the film hadn’t tried too much, now it tried to tackle what love is and use that to argue for “don’t hurt each other because we’re equal even if not the same.” If I’m recalling the sequence of the film correctly, the film’s argument seemed to be against the duality that permeates humanity so instead we need unity because we’re all about love. Or something like that. But I’m not sure our duality is necessarily the evil the film seems to believe. Should we end all discourse? Should we not have competition? Should we not have a nurturer in our lives as well as that person who pushes us harder? Should we not have three branches to our government? Should we not have multiple political parties? Should we not have a yen and a yang? Isn’t duality what is so natural? Fire and water? This section of the movie gives me a great deal to reflect on, but it felt closed to exploration of the idea. Still, I think I could completely see this section again and puzzle over it more. But it was enough in itself to cover and try to digest—especially as chewy and fibrous as it was presented; unfortunately, this argument too got quite lost among everything else going on.
Then the film moves to soul and consciousness in trying to promote compassion. But here too, it jumped the track for me when it tried to argue that a flower that moves toward the sun displays a consciousness. Here’s the problem: that’s what my take-away was. Not the stronger points about consciousness and compassion, but the illogical one that ignores science. That’s my take—that a flower growing toward the sun isn’t doing so because of an actual awareness but instead because of photosynthesis.
I think too, by this time, I was tired of the film. It still wasn’t really going anywhere. It had these separate parts, but putting labels on a part does not actually create structure. The contents under each label need suborganization and to somehow fit logically within the whole. Such was lacking.
It *was* interesting—how this writer and director saw things. It was interesting in how many stars gave their voice to the project. And it was interesting too to think about other views and ideas and perspectives. At the end of the film, sure, I wished there was a way to stop war and suffering and violence. But I had nothing new to add to that dialogue based on the film. I did not see an idea or a view that might help. The movie did not provide enough logic or reason or answers, and even its questions were muddy. I’m still glad that I saw it: it’s good to take some time and listen to a different message than you’re used to hearing. And the movie has spurred conversations. And thought. So that is good.
I debated over my stars here, feeling three were too many (disorganization, little originality in footage, too many stars probably misleading some viewers, limited logic). But if I have to be honest with myself, which I try to do, I suppose it fell solidly at a 2.5. As in the past, I’ll round up, trying, as I try, to see the bright side. 😉
* The film began with a look at two cows, clearly about to enter the slaughterhouse area of a meat processing plant. But my personal experience watching cows in a shoot I was completely familiar with such a shoot for cattle, growing up watching cows worked and vaccinated and examined. So while the movie tried to imply that the second cow tried to escape because she knew of her impending death, as she struggled to turn around inside the shoot, looking scared and desparate, so too could a cow that was about to be examined and cared for and treated try to turn around in a narrow set of fences. The filming, though, involved powerful, close-ups of the cow’s eyes, I’m sure some dramatic music was involved (I really don’t recall), and the sound of what seemed to be a gunshot, ending the cow’s life.