Uno: The Movie is an existential tour de force from Rooster Teeth, an internet site (bizarrely) mostly known for their gaming and comedy work.
Part of the genius of Uno is the length of the movie itself: by the end of the film, as the cast exalts the end of the game, you too find yourself simultaneously relieved and exhausted. And yet, when it was all over, after the credits, I found myself recalling the scene in the ending of The Graduate--the joy of the moment of victory has passed. We don't know where we're headed, we have no plan; where do we go from here?
The suffering the characters endure is palpable, and, yet, does their suffering deserve to be validated? Facing the bleak outlook of the U.S. Election in November 2016, our characters find themselves trapped in a hellish cycle, their major pains coming from no heavier burden than a literal child's game. Are any of our problems truly problems? Is suffering inescapable? In a society so fixated on determining whose problems are more worthy of pity, are we dismissing ourselves too much, or are we just opening our eyes to the meaningless of our own small lives?
With the entire movie taking place in one single, continuous take, the audience feels the tension almost as much as the characters themselves. The choice to use four different angles, all of which look nearly identical, further emphasizes the concept that we are all on the same meaningless journey: we've been dealt different hands (so to speak), yes, but are our perspectives really so different? Our lives are completely interchangeable (as is pounded into us by the "7s and 0s" rule in Uno), and our only goal is to hurry to our own inevitable end. We seek both purpose and rest: creating nothing but chaos in an attempt to avoid our own suffering, we inevitably prolong it.
The aching throughout the course of the film to see the game through to the end--no cheats or shortcuts-- despite the intense desire to walk away would, by itself, be enough, but realizing that the end of the game does not signal the end of the journey for these characters and their audience is unspeakably moving.
Throughout Uno: The Movie, I experienced a veritable roller coaster of emotion, yet I know that nothing happened. I laughed, yet I felt the intense burden of life. I mourned with the characters as they lamented about their missed opportunities to go home and return to normalcy, and yet I cheered when a round was prolonged all the same.
The cast of Uno: The Movie was witty in their improvisations and genuine in their delivery. The subtle soundtrack perfectly suited the feeling that change had happened, but not really--much like an elevator taking you to a new floor, you still remain within the same building.
Truly, I have not walked away from a movie so deeply introspective in a long time. Uno: The Movie is indescribably profound, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Part of the genius of Uno is the length of the movie itself: by the end of the film, as the cast exalts the end of the game, you too find yourself simultaneously relieved and exhausted. And yet, when it was all over, after the credits, I found myself recalling the scene in the ending of The Graduate--the joy of the moment of victory has passed. We don't know where we're headed, we have no plan; where do we go from here?
The suffering the characters endure is palpable, and, yet, does their suffering deserve to be validated? Facing the bleak outlook of the U.S. Election in November 2016, our characters find themselves trapped in a hellish cycle, their major pains coming from no heavier burden than a literal child's game. Are any of our problems truly problems? Is suffering inescapable? In a society so fixated on determining whose problems are more worthy of pity, are we dismissing ourselves too much, or are we just opening our eyes to the meaningless of our own small lives?
With the entire movie taking place in one single, continuous take, the audience feels the tension almost as much as the characters themselves. The choice to use four different angles, all of which look nearly identical, further emphasizes the concept that we are all on the same meaningless journey: we've been dealt different hands (so to speak), yes, but are our perspectives really so different? Our lives are completely interchangeable (as is pounded into us by the "7s and 0s" rule in Uno), and our only goal is to hurry to our own inevitable end. We seek both purpose and rest: creating nothing but chaos in an attempt to avoid our own suffering, we inevitably prolong it.
The aching throughout the course of the film to see the game through to the end--no cheats or shortcuts-- despite the intense desire to walk away would, by itself, be enough, but realizing that the end of the game does not signal the end of the journey for these characters and their audience is unspeakably moving.
Throughout Uno: The Movie, I experienced a veritable roller coaster of emotion, yet I know that nothing happened. I laughed, yet I felt the intense burden of life. I mourned with the characters as they lamented about their missed opportunities to go home and return to normalcy, and yet I cheered when a round was prolonged all the same.
The cast of Uno: The Movie was witty in their improvisations and genuine in their delivery. The subtle soundtrack perfectly suited the feeling that change had happened, but not really--much like an elevator taking you to a new floor, you still remain within the same building.
Truly, I have not walked away from a movie so deeply introspective in a long time. Uno: The Movie is indescribably profound, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.