The End review – charming, but lacks climactic bite

There are certain memorable dance sequences in Joshua Oppenheimer’s post-apocalyptic fiction debut that truly capture those joyful, living-in-the-moment experiences. At points, there’s an enthralling energy that unexpectedly bursts out of the screen. Michael Shannon and Tim McInnerny tap dancing together in the glowing warmth of a palatial bunker surrounded by priceless works of art exudes the uncanny magic of Spike Jonze directing Greta Gerwig in Arcade Fire’s Afterlife live performance or Christopher Walken in Fatboy Slim’s ‘Weapon of Choice’ music video.

Taking its lead from Oppenheimer’s radical documentaries The Act of Killing and The Look of Silence, The End once again examines human behaviour and self-deception but framed as a musical set 25 years after environmental collapse. Inspired by Golden Age musicals and a trip he took to visit a real bunker owned by oil tycoons, Oppenheimer aims big with the numbers but perhaps doesn’t shoot hard enough at the targets responsible for the end of the world. It’s difficult to believe that Shannon’s oilman, simply named Father, wasn’t savvy to the destruction his business was causing. Tilda Swinton plays Mother to Son (George MacKay) who was born in a custom-made bunker and spends his time perfecting his miniatures and writing a rose-tinted essay on his dad’s harmful legacy.

They are joined by Friend (Bronagh Gallagher) who acts as chef and kindly mother figure in juxtaposition to Swinton’s cold and detached real mum. McInnerny plays a Butler severely lacking in self-confidence while Lennie James takes on the underwritten role of a gruff Doctor. When a stranger (Moses Ingram) appears at their doorstep (shot at a Salt mine in Petralia Soprana, Sicily) she upsets the balance, unnerving the family and leading Son to question his reality.

There are insights on the compartmentalisation of emotion and turning a blind eye to atrocities, but it lacks the power of something like Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest in not properly acknowledging the calculated ambition of its characters.

Where the film really sings, however, is in its depiction of buried guilt and false hope. The beating heart of it develops through MacKay’s performance of pure naivety and his burgeoning relationship with Ingram’s Girl. The innocent Son’s many awakenings are charming to watch and even include a fart joke or two. His narrative chimes with our current times of misinformation. Ingram’s sophisticated turn and beautiful singing voice add a moving pathos to the orchestral score composed by Josh Schmidt and performed by the Orchestra Babelsberg.

Yet with all the pressing environmental themes and moral turmoil explored in the film, the character of Girl is somewhat passive. It would have been far more satisfying to see her presented with some fiery Greta Thunberg rage. And yet, the musical numbers swell and undulate throughout the film as the characters resort to literally dancing on ice as a way to assuage their guilt.