From neo-noir murder mysteries to comics-based fare and science-fiction brain-teasers to historical epics, Christopher Nolan has given audiences a uniquely varied body of work in the past two-and-a-half-decades. Having emerged as one of the most distinctly talented auteurs in modern cinema, the excitement and hype surrounding a new project by the filmmaker has taken on event-level status in entertainment. Much like Kubrick and Spielberg, the surname Nolan has become synonymous with and representative of a particular brand of storytelling, with devoted fans and casual viewers alike growing accustomed to a particularly high bar of expectation regarding grand spectacle, technical innovation, and narrative experimentation.

But no filmmaker, though gifted as he or she may be, hits a home run every time up to bat. With Nolan's 2020 Tenet, seemingly a culmination of all the knowledge and experience he'd accumulated through work on previous films, the filmmaker's reach exceeds his grasp. While he's never been accused or guilty of crafting traditionally straightforward, basic narratives that rely on cinematic formula, Tenet saw Nolan dramatically swing the creative pendulum to a nearly incomprehensible place. The result was a muddled viewing experience, no doubt containing all the thrilling hallmarks of a Christopher Nolan film as they relate to originality and ambition, but at the expense of narrative cohesion and emotional resonance.

RELATED: 'Tenet' Doesn't Just Deserve a Rewatch, It Requires It

'Tenent' Is an Undeniable Feast For the Senses

John David Washington as Protagonist driving a boat in Tenet.
Image via Warner Bros. 

Tenet was highly anticipated when released in September 2020, not least of which due to the vulnerable state of the theatrical experience. Just three years prior saw the major success of Nolan's Dunkirk, a crowd-pleasing blockbuster that brought him some of his greatest acclaim, including Academy Award nominations for Best Director and Best Picture.

For Tenet's full two-and-a-half-hours, audiences are treated to a mind-bending thrill ride that's a feast for the senses. Characteristic of Nolan, Tenet delivers on all the visceral thrills the filmmaker's revered for. Widely known for shooting large-scale set pieces on location, he truly spared no expense this time around. From the film's opening gunfight in a Soviet-era opera house to a decidedly unorthodox car chase on an Estonian freeway, and the crashing of a real 747 jet to a spectacular finale in a desolate landscape, Tenet makes use of all the fun toys and then some.

And then there's the film's narrative and technical device of temporality. It's certainly no secret that Nolan has an affinity for the notion of time and one's perception of reality, and Tenet takes these preoccupations (obsessions?) to an all-time high. Enlisting the tireless efforts of his cast and crew, particularly John David Washington and cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema, the filmmaker painstakingly presents a cinematic depiction of time run amok. By the film's end, assuming that one hasn't checked out as a result of mental exhaustion, Tenet has delivered a viewing experience that's undeniably unique and noteworthy in its efforts to give audiences something new and fresh.

Christopher Nolan Chases Ambition at the Expense of Cohesion

The Protagonist, played by John David Washington, standing next to Neil, played by Robert Pattinson, in front of a building with many windows in 'Tenet.'
Image via Warner Bros. Pictures

Christopher Nolan is obviously no stranger to crafting dense, multi-layered films. Complex narrative structures have always been one of the filmmaker's trademarks since his feature-length debut with 1998's Following. Subsequent efforts like Memento, The Prestige, Inception and Interstellar each amount to a narrative that's akin to a jigsaw puzzle in its ingenuity and storytelling complexity. Such an approach to storytelling, however, comes with the inherent risk of alienating audiences if taken too far. With Tenet, one can't help but sense that Nolan's lofty ambitions compromise and overshadow the film's narrative. Perhaps the most fitting line of dialogue, which may even be perceived as a subtle breaking of the fourth wall to impart a piece of advice to viewers, is Barbara (Clemence Poesy) telling the Protagonist (John David Washington), "Don't try to understand it. Feel it."

But the problem with this notion is that it runs directly counter to the experience of watching a Christopher Nolan film. Part of what makes his approach to storytelling singularly enjoyable is its refusal to submit to the usual contrivances of large-scale, blockbuster cinema. We walk into one of Nolan's films expecting to be intellectually stimulated and challenged, and navigating our way through his richly-woven narratives is one of the ultimate justifications for repeat viewings. While Tenet is certainly another example of this kind of storytelling, the film's temporal device is far too manipulative and disorienting. There comes a point when viewers no longer care much about the how and why, a point in which the storytelling mechanics are inaccessible. Rather than exit the theater full of awe and wonder, we're left scratching our heads.

'Tenet' Follows an Emotionally Distant Journey

One often wants to have his cake and eat it too. Barbara certainly makes a valid point when she tells the Protagonist (and viewers) to feel the film rather than understand it. Although viewing a film by Nolan is so often an exercise in mental gymnastics, audiences hope to find that dynamic balanced out with all the emotional baggage that also makes for a compelling experience. Nolan has often been criticized by some as possessing a cold touch when considering the emotional nature of his narratives and the characters populating them, and while this argument may hold some water among those critical of his work, in no film is it more apparent than Tenet.

In comparing Tenet to some of the filmmaker's earlier works, it's clear that despite featuring similarly complex structures, those films had more support and resonance in terms of their emotionality. It may be difficult to wrap one's head around the time-shifting presentation of Memento, but at the film's core is the palpable sense of loss and obsession propelling Leonard's (Guy Pearce) search for his wife's murderer. While viewers may not fully grasp every twist and turn of Inception's maze-like storytelling quality, they certainly recognize and latch on to the emotional turmoil engulfing Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) as he wrestles with tormented memories and longs to return home. As Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) flies his mission in Interstellar, separating himself from his home and children through incredible distances of space and time, audiences know all-too-well the level of anguish and heartache permeating every fiber of his being. Dunkirk's triptych setup may have bounced us around for nearly an hour-and-a-half, but when those civilian boats show up to save the day and Hans Zimmer's score swells, we get choked up. With each of these films, audiences can feel how high the stakes are even if they can't necessarily articulate how and why.

This isn't to suggest that Tenet is a completely emotionless experience. The film's last exchange between the Protagonist and Neil (Robert Pattinson) imbues the narrative and those characters with tenderness and bittersweet catharsis. And Kat's (Elizabeth Debicki) liberation from the evil Sator (Kenneth Branagh) in the preceding moments, no doubt, provides viewers with a sense of satisfaction and righteous liberation that's well-earned. But it's too little too late. By the film's end, the confounding hoops audiences have jumped through overshadow the emotional power held in its final moments. Rather than revel in and find closure in sentimental notions, we're left feeling relatively cold and distant.

In addition, some of this emotional detachment is a result of the Protagonist's function as, well, a protagonist. Though John David Washington is competent and effective in the film, the impersonal nature of his unnamed hero leaves him free-floating through much of the narrative. As a man who presumably exists, and has for some time, in numerous parallel realities, the Protagonist provides audiences with little to no emotional context they can connect to. Hardly anything, except for what Neil cryptically alludes to, is known about the Washington's character or his past, and consequently he remains an atomized individual lacking any concrete foundation to the world around him. Whether considering Memento's Leonard, Inception's Cobb, or Interstellar's Cooper, each of them serves as a vessel through which the audience experiences the world of the film, and it's largely that first-person context which enables viewers to appreciate the bigger picture of what's happening at any given moment.

Through Its Convolution, 'Tenet' Remains Wonderfully Frustrating

John David Washington as Protagonist in Tenet
Image via Warner Bros. Pictures

It's easy, and always tempting, to speculate about a filmmaker's intentions or lack thereof, and Christopher Nolan is no exception. As one of the great and innovative auteurs of his generation, he's accustomed audiences to expect a lot when they sit down to watch one of his films, and rightly so. In a cinematic age that seemingly incentivizes formula and normalcy over experimentation and risk, Tenet symbolizes a refusal to give in to the familiar tropes of modern entertainment.

Whether one feels cold and befuddled or stimulated and exhilarated after viewing it, there's no denying the film's singular power and ambition as a formidable piece of movie-making. Having raised the bar of expectation so high for himself after decades of clever storytelling, it was inevitable that a filmmaker of Nolan's ilk would eventually bite off more than he could chew. While some have labeled other films of his, like Inception and Interstellar, as examples of such a dynamic, Tenet undeniably took his unwieldy ambitions to new heights of awe coupled with frustration.