Nihilism and Film: The Search for the Active Nihilist

In Kevin Stoehr’s book Nihilism in Film and Television: A Critical Overview from Citizen Kane to the Sopranos, the opening chapter defines nihilism and details the difference between a passive and an active nihilist. The final paragraph of that chapter summarizes the distinction well.

Through the rise of Christianity, the European Enlightenment, and the nation-state, the modern age became more and more defined by a collectivist slave-morality. As Nietzsche points out, there are indeed only two escape routes for those individuals who will not conform blindly to some abstract “common good” that levels everything that was formerly unique and inspiring to mere averageness. These individuals can either rise above the crowd as creators of their own values (active nihilists) or else sink into the dark and life-negating abyss of passive nihilism.

Stoehr’s book helped me recognize a primary quality I enjoy in film, but one that most reviews of “nihilist” films were missing. The majority of film reviews mentioning nihilism focus on the passive, or life-negating, aspect of nihilism. I want to tip the scales of film criticism a bit more toward the influence of the active nihilist, who often is portrayed as the reluctant hero.

Further elaboration of the two aspects of nihilism are provided by the collaborative site Everything 2. This definition hones in on the idea of the active nihilist as a reluctant hero.

The active nihilist sees freedom where the passive nihilist sees absurdity or meaninglessness. He chooses action and creation instead of passivity and withdrawal. For him, the lack of objective standards of truth motivates self created standards and criteria. The active nihilist is not active despite the unknown but because of it. He possesses a store of creative energy and power which allows him to impose personal meaning on the world while never forgetting that he is the source and progenitor of that meaning. He is heroic in this sense, facing the world with courage and purpose.

It is difficult to find a character in a film who operates from the creation of his or her own meaning without being a passive nihilist. Not all of the films I review will fit that criteria, but I will offer a counterpoint to the notion of an active nihilist as a balance and perhaps as a way to offer constructive criticism of a character’s shortcomings.

In most film reviews, the term nihilist is reserved for a character who is either merely destructive or who shows no emotion or sympathy for his or her fellow human beings. Too often these characters are guided by a twisted version (intentional or not) of an established system of meaning, such as a religion, corporation, organization, etc. I will not be reviewing any films that contain such characters but am interested in watching them.

When I began to look for films that featured an active nihilist as primary character, I already had the perfect ideal of the film version of an active nihilist, which will be revealed as my reviews progress. My short list of films whose main character(s) are more in line with Stoehr’s definition of an active nihilist include the following so far:

The list is not complete but will offer a starting point for review and the search for the ideal active nihilist in film. For some reviews, I might focus on a single film and for others I might combine two or three in order to compare and contrast. May the best nihilist win.

I (Heart) Huckabees (2004)

It’s difficult to watch I (Heart) Huckabees without thinking about director David O. Russell’s tirade against actor Lily Tomlin that was posted to Youtube. Unless you haven’t seen that clip, in which case you might wonder why all these different actors brought something a little different to a film that tries so hard to be a little different. But everything seems to cancel everything else out so all you’re left with is nothing, which is exactly the point the film is trying to make.

While Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin have fun with their roles as existential detectives, Jason Schwartzman falls into his role as a poet/environmental activist who enlists the help of the detectives to solve a strange coincidence in his life. Jude Law doesn’t quite shed enough of his Englishman to make a convincing faux-Walmart executive, and Mark Walberg absolutely nails a post-9/11 fireman who rails against the evils of petroleum above all else. The people who are screaming at health care town halls must have taken lessons from his character, only they are replacing the evils of petroleum with death panels and socialism.
Continue reading >