I Origins

Does God exist? Is our universe really the product of intelligent design? Is heaven, in fact, for real? 2014 has seen a handful of films—each of varying makes and models—pose these exact questions about faith, and all to varying degrees of success. Son of God and Noah both tackle the subject by drilling down to the source material, while Heaven Is for Real handles its dogma with a healthy dollop of insincere schmaltz; they’re Biblical epics and overwrought family dramas, all, films that directly engage with religious (specifically Christian) iconography in the guise melodramatic entertainment.
Now, filmmaker Mike Cahill has joined in the big screen spiritual ruminations of his peers with I Origins, a mumbly, messy, wafer-thin slice of indie sci-fi theologism. Cahill’s name may ring a bell courtesy of his 2011 debut, the relentlessly lugubrious yet affectingly ponderous Another Earth; his new film again pairs him with Sundance fixture Brit Marling, though only in a supporting capacity (and in a woefully underwritten, thankless role). Rather than collaborate with Marling on scribe duties, Cahill wrote I Origins himself. It’s difficult to tell how much that decision ultimately impacts the film’s non-denominational (yet decidedly non-Christian) notions of belief. Religion barely even plays a part here. Reincarnation is, instead, the film’s object of study.
But I Origins examines that concept by not so subtly pitting it against the more rigid, proof-based tenets of science, and so your mileage with Cahill’s work may vary depending on whether you’re a skeptic or not. The idea of examining faith through the lens of scientific discovery isn’t troubling, per se; the film’s conclusive message may indeed be read as one in which spirituality and the scientific method need not be mutually exclusive (though Cahill’s narrative quite clearly sympathizes with the hippie dippie wonder of the former). What’s far more of a problem is that I Origins essentially plays like two films, bonded together only to reward viewers for having sustained attention spans. When the grand cathartic reveal of the final act is made, there should be an appropriate sense of awe. Instead, we’re left only to ask, “So what?”