Even by the most extreme standards, few actors have risked their physical health as much as Christian Bale did between the productions of The Machinist (2004) and Batman Begins (2005). At a dangerously thin 120lbs and left with only six weeks to prepare for his Batman screen test, the 6-ft actor resorted to binging on pizzas and ice cream, doubled with a strenuous weight-lifting regiment, in order to gain 100 more pounds. “… Obviously Chris Nolan had asked me to try and put on as much weight as I could, because he would find it very difficult to convince the studio to cast me if I was a beanpole,” Bale later stated in an interview. The resulting ordeal made the actor immensely sick. Talking about Brad Anderson’s The Machinist without discussing Bale’s weight loss is impossible. There’s a particularly nightmarish image of the film’s lead character, Trevor Reznik, shirtless with his head cocked up and arms outstretched like a bird, that makes him resemble a walking skeleton or an emaciated chicken. The skin of his torso appears shrink-wrapped around his ribcage; it’s hard to believe he’s even alive.
If most people remember The Machinist because of Bale’s striking façade, than it’s because that image is so singularly haunting that it’s impossible to forget. As a director, Anderson isn’t particularly celebrated today, most likely because it’s been a while since one of his films has even seen a proper theatrical release (his latest, Blood (2022), made only $291,581 before vanishing into the VOD ether). He cut his teeth on psychological potboilers, such as 2001’s Session 9, which feature unreliable narrators and dark puzzle box storylines. The Machinist, another pitch-black thriller, follows Reznik, an insomniac industrial worker who hasn’t slept in a year, resulting in frequent memory lapses and hallucinations. To compensate, he leaves himself notes on the fridge, though they often change or disappear without explanation. He also begins to see a sinister, physically imposing man named Ivan (John Sharian) working at the industrial plant, though none of his other colleagues know he exists. When Trevor inadvertently causes an accident at the plant that results in co-worker Miller (Michael Ironside), losing his arm, he gradually becomes convinced that the others have concocted an elaborate scheme to make him go insane.
The film was written by Scott Kosar, apparently inspired by the works of Nine Inch Nails and novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky, especially The Double. The heavy, industrial feel of NIN’s music is felt within the film’s visual presentation, which is bleak, desaturated and oppressive. There’s no warmth to be found in Reznik’s world, which has become warped and endlessly desolate in his sleepless paranoia – a “downward spiral,” if you will. Some of Anderson’s visual compositions are quite powerful, such as Reznik retreating to his car in the factory’s parking lot as ominous gray storm clouds form overhead. The interiors of this world are similarly eerie, like Trevor’s apartment, which becomes gradually more distorted as he drifts further into a waking nightmare. Kosar’s script remains steadfastly within his protagonist’s perspective, so the audience is meant to feel as if they are losing their minds along with him. Apart from deepening its central mystery, this viewpoint also makes The Machinist an upsetting watch, since Bale is excellent at embodying Trevor as a fleshed-out and sympathetic character. His relationships with Marie (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), a waitress at the café he frequents, and Stevie (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a prostitute who harbors feelings for him, suggest his desperate desire for companionship and a normal life.
Of course, The Machinist is also a mystery film, and much of the morbid – and that’s putting it lightly – thrill comes from piecing together the various visual hints and clues sprinkled throughout each scene. Anderson is a big fan of reincorporation; each of the repeated motifs plays an important role in the story’s ultimate conclusion. Unfortunately, this also means that the solution you come up with in your head may be more interesting than what occurs on-screen. While functional, The Machinist’s tidy resolution feels too similar to other psychological thrillers from this era, including Anderson’s own Session 9. The film’s principal themes of guilt and denial are emotionally powerful and mature, but they also feel like the obvious conclusion to a story whose surreal twists and turns are far more effective when they lack a logical explanation. Also underwhelming is the script’s use of talented character actress Jennifer Jason Leigh, relegated to the role of a “hooker with a heart of gold,” whose rose-tinted trust in Trevor feels off-putting given his obvious psychological instability.
20 years after its release, there’s no denying that The Machinist is one of Christian Bale’s most memorable performances. He’s gone on to win an Academy Award in 2011 for The Fighter and has transformed his body several more times for various roles, such as in American Hustle and Vice. These days, extreme method acting can be met with derision, especially when lesser actors like Jared Leto attempt to turn the process into a promotional sideshow act. But Trevor Reznik feels very real, because in a sense, he was. When you see Bale groaning in pain, observing his skeletal frame in the bathroom mirror, you’re seeing a performance that blurs the line between fictional portrayal and a very real act of physical endurance. It’s not an easy image, nor a particularly responsible one, but it sears itself into your brain. There are moments in The Machinist, like a hellish trip through a demented amusement park ride called Route 666, where Anderson’s film crosses the line from thriller into outright horror. The imagery featured can be so relentlessly gloomy, so hopeless, that you’re not sure whether the journey is actually worth it. Still, Bale’s commitment makes it difficult to look away. You’ve become fixated on his absolution. “I just want to sleep,” Trevor repeats, “I just want to sleep.”
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