There are films that are meant to be watched and enjoyed purely for entertainment, and then there are films that are analyzed and looked over with a fine-toothed comb because they’re supposed to be something so much more than just a film. Director David Cronenberg’s Cosmopolis is just that type of film. It’s an existential window into the world of the 1% where the stock market business drives everything and mountains can crumble within the span of 24 hours. Suffice to say, this is a film that isn’t for everyone.

Robert Pattinson plays Eric Packer, a suave young businessman who has amassed billions monitoring assets on the stock market. The film follows Packer as he navigates rush hour traffic in New York in an attempt to go across town for a haircut. Every minute of his day is filled with something productive. His limo is the base of his operations as much of the film takes place within its semi-soundproof corked walls.

Along the way he holds various meetings from his high end limo and occasionally stops for sexual encounters with woman who aren’t his wife, who actually won’t have sex with him because she needs to focus her energy on her work. Hell, the man even gets a prostate exam from the backseat while discussing business with a client. That’s how efficient he is.

Cosmopolis chronicles everything from the mundane to the ordinary with not much context given. There’s a lot that is left up to the audience’s own interpretations. It wasn’t until practically the end of the film that I got a good understanding of just who this person is and why I’m supposed to care. Even then, the dialogue is such a mess that I’m never quite sure what was going on. Its message is lost under the guise of symbolism and metaphors. If you’re looking to sit back and relax, this is not the film for you.

I have a feeling that this will be either a movie you absolutely love or absolutely hate, depending on your stance with Cronenberg. For me, it’s the latter. I left the theater wondering what I had just watched for the past two hours. Cosmopolis has no direction. It puts itself high up on a platform; one that aims for unobtainable standards and praise.

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