This won’t be a lengthy piece covering the nuances of Donnie Darko‘s (2001) science fiction rules and minutiae—because in my opinion, that would be a waste of time. If you want that, you can go here and knock yourself out. I’m instead going to focus on why Donnie Darko, despite its famously bonkers plot, is in fact a great movie deserving of critical recognition that it doesn’t often receive.
When Donnie Darko is referenced in critical contexts, it’s usually as an example of a “cult classic.” I think that’s a veiled insult and a mischaracterization. While a cult classic would appeal strongly to a select group and be ignored or forgotten by everyone else, Donnie Darko has contrastingly enjoyed continued popularity and notoriety since its release. Some of its images (especially of Frank the giant bunny rabbit) are among the most recognized in 21st century American film.
The reason for the critical undersell is probably that the solution to the movie’s time travel puzzle 1) is impossible to extract from the original cut of the movie and 2) adds no thematic value whatsoever to the viewing experience. Hence my opting not to touch it in this piece. Apparently the entire plot rests on a made up set of scientific principles that only appear in Richard Kelly’s Director’s Cut. This means that anyone watching the theatrical cut (e.g., virtually everyone who sees the film) will finish the movie with no idea what has taken place. It’s understandable that critics wouldn’t be thrilled with this directorial strategy.
Plus, even the principles laid out in the Director’s Cut don’t seem to solve the sci-fi puzzle. Apparently the entire movie is centered around a time loop in which every character must push Donnie Darko toward his destiny of saving the world from time fragmentation when a jet engine accidentally enters a wormhole. Yet the overwhelming majority of the movie has absolutely nothing to do with that. Multiple characters, for example, don’t seem to be pushing Donnie toward anything, preferring to stand awkwardly in random places.
But although the movie’s plot makes no sense, it has a unique effect on the movie’s mood, and that dynamic provides the artistic interest of the film. Essentially, Donnie Darko is a mashup of high school movie cliches that is made satirical and creepy by the fact that we have been told that the world is ending.
For instance, Donnie develops romantic feelings for classmate Gretchen, but is this really relevant when we’ve been told the end is so near? Donnie struggles against sappy, overwritten authority figures, but why is he wasting valuable time doing so? The coach of a young girls’ dance team loses perspective, but is this really a pressing matter right now? Mrs. Pomeranz admirably stands up against censorship in the classroom—but what does this have to do with the end of the world? Is any of this even real?
This kind of anxiety isn’t induced by any other film that I’ve seen. Cliches are supposed to make us comfortable; Donnie Darko’s make us panic.
Frank’s dire prediction also means that the tone of Donnie Darko’s comedy can’t be found anywhere else, because we can’t help but wonder what it’s doing in the movie in the first place. Donnie launches into a rant about The Smurfs that would fit neatly into a sitcom, “The Big Bang Theory” maybe, but here the humor is uniquely dark, because Donnie’s situation is inescapably dark. Any lighthearted jokes must exist on a foundation of dread.
Donnie Darko is innovative not because it discards standard cliches, but because it uses them in an environment in which they don’t belong. I wish more movies would do the same. I think artists get proud of themselves for transcending stock characters and scenes, but if they use the same old setting and mood, not much transcendence has really happened. This is a movie worth a rewatch; just don’t overthink it.
–Jim Andersen
For more trippy fun, check out my analysis of Mulholland Dr.