On that note, I am truly tired of watching films with Rachel Weisz. Rarely do I feel the need to rant about the actor over the art, but every opportunity Weisz has to shine, she puts on the same stupid puppy-dog face and whispery voice. She appears as more of an airhead than anything else, and if her marriage to director Aronofsky isn't saying something, I don't know what else does.

I commend Aronofsky for straying away from CGI to achieve a more naturalistic feel for The Fountain's imagery. Using microscopic footage of yeast and other elements, the director crafts a fluid landscape for his galactic scenes. The use of the color gold through the same act is also effective, pulling in the audience with its metallic glamour. The Mayan set designs for the South American scenes are elaborate and simple at the same time, allowing its wide open spaces to bridge open the audience's minds. If there is anything epic about Fountain, it is Aronofsky's careful cinematography. As for the story, the director's screenplay runs itself in circles. I can't describe how frustrating it can become to retread the same niches and phrases over and over again, trying to fumble together a complete answer about everything discussed. As much as I appreciate Darren's amalgamation of Eastern religions and the search for the meaning of life, this doesn't really strike anything except more confusion.

The Fountain is full of plenty of interesting ideas, but desperately wants to be a revolutionary experience for some audience members. Maybe a philosophy degree is a good prerequisite for watching his final cut, but for this ordinary critic, some eye candy was the only thing I caught.