As someone who has spent countless hours consuming content on various streaming platforms, I must admit that “The Platform” struck a chord with me. The original movie was a breath of fresh air in 2020, with its mysterious and cryptic narrative that left many questions unanswered. It was a refreshing change from the over-explanatory storytelling we’ve become accustomed to in today’s world.
In recent times, Netflix has produced several successful movies, yet few have left as profound a cultural impact as “The Platform.” This thought-provoking film was penned by David Desola and Pedro Rivero, and skillfully directed by Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia. It first appeared at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2019, and made its way onto Netflix in March 2020. Quickly gaining popularity, “The Platform” emerged as one of the most significant cinematic sensations during the pandemic, captivating millions of households not only in Spain but worldwide with its unique narrative about a prison system distributing food in an unusual manner.
Gaztelu-Urrutia’s acclaimed film is making headlines again with the launch of its sequel, titled “The Platform 2.” As audiences revisit “The Platform” four years later, many are seeing it for the first time since those peculiar, hazy quarantine periods. Consequently, fresh interpretations and details – some favorable, others questionable – will undoubtedly surface. In our case, we decided to rewatch “The Platform” once more, and we found that viewing the movie in 2024 offers a unique experience for numerous reasons worthy of exploration.
The Pit’s claustrophobia hits differently in 2024
In March 2020, when “The Platform” debuted on Netflix globally, the COVID-19 pandemic was at its peak and many months of quarantine still lay ahead. The movie had a powerful impact during that time due to its resonance with the widespread sense of isolation we were all experiencing. Watching Goreng (Iván Massagué) adjust to his prolonged confinement, worry about supplies, and eventually succumb to madness felt strikingly relatable.
In 2024, watching the movie offers a refreshing trip down memory lane rather than mirroring our current situation. Despite COVID-19 still being a significant health concern globally, including in the U.S., we’ve grown accustomed to venturing outdoors again. The confinement depicted in “The Platform” now carries a different weight. Instead of echoing our contemporary experiences, it evokes the mental state we were once in. Given the difficulties faced during the return to normal life, many viewers can easily identify with Goreng’s final scene, wandering aimlessly in the dark, uncertain about his direction or destination now that he’s no longer trapped.
The class metaphor is still depressingly relevant
It’s no secret that inequality is still one of the world’s great ills in 2024. The various crises of late-stage capitalism that humanity has faced in the past few decades are almost too complex and mind-boggling to fully grasp, but what remains unmistakable through and through is that the poor stay poor and the rich keep getting richer. That was one of the reasons “The Platform” struck a nerve in 2020, and this also explains the success of other hit films from that era. Another example is “Parasite,” which rode a wave of enormous crossover popularity all the way to a best picture Oscar win just a few weeks before the Netflix premiere of “The Platform.”
It’s clear that the passage of time hasn’t diminished the strength of the class metaphor. In fact, according to Oxfam through the World Economic Forum, global inequality has worsened since the pandemic. Life for many working-class individuals feels like a constant struggle for minimal resources, while the wealthy accumulate power and hoard resources excessively, indulging themselves with more than they require. The continuous decline of the middle class further emphasizes the film’s portrayal of those living on levels 10 to 50 as arrogant pigs in a pen, who view themselves as superior to those below them, even while picking scraps from bones left by those above.
The rise of AI adds a new layer to the commentary
In earlier times, when “The Platform” was introduced, the idea of generative AI was far from experiencing the surge it’s currently undergoing. The discussion has largely revolved around AI taking over roles of writers, filmmakers, and artists, yet it’s important to note that its emergence has led to an escalation in tech company emissions. Not only do AI data centers contribute significantly to carbon emissions, but they also require vast amounts of water for cooling purposes. Experts have expressed concerns about the world’s ecosystems struggling to endure the rapid growth of AI if energy efficiency in computation remains at its current level. Needless to say, environmental degradation undeniably affects our daily quality of life.
As you watch “The Platform,” it’s clear that its criticism extends beyond class conflict alone. There’s an undeniable ecological angle to the film’s message: unchecked self-interest in controlling global resources will inevitably lead to scarcity, disorder, and misery. Similarly, the advantages provided by large language models unfortunately come at a significant environmental cost, as they inadvertently release vast quantities of carbon into the atmosphere, disrupting our planet’s fragile climate equilibrium.
The movie is disappointingly muted in its critique of racism and xenophobia
In a commendable manner, “The Platform” explores how individualistic elitism is connected with various prejudices. Initially, the character Trimagasi (Zorion Eguileor) explains his unjust arrest by revealing he had thrown a TV out the window, hitting an undocumented immigrant. However, he argues that it was unfair because the immigrant shouldn’t have been in the country, demonstrating that his lack of empathy and hostility towards others were already well-established before his imprisonment. As the story progresses, the residents on level 5, represented by Chema Trujillo and Miriam Martín, display racist and xenophobic attitudes towards Baharat (Emilio Buale). They openly express their suspicions of him due to his ethnicity and demand that he prove his Christianity before assisting him in his pleas for help.
Although the movie acknowledges the pervasiveness of white nationalism in contemporary society, it doesn’t delve deeply into the topic as one might expect. For instance, Trimagasi, despite his problematic ideologies, is portrayed as having some wisdom and morality. This sympathetic portrayal is further emphasized through his role as Goreng’s imaginary mentor. Given the escalating prominence of white nationalist politics since 2020, not only in Europe but also in the U.S., the movie’s subtle approach seems insufficiently critical. In fact, racial and ethnic politics are integral components of class struggle rather than peripheral details.
Cynical politics don’t feel so urgent anymore…
Regardless of one’s personal perspective, it’s challenging to refute that “The Platform” carries a cynical tone throughout its narrative. From start to finish, the film seems built on the premise that humans are essentially self-centered and unable to maintain unity or cooperation. Despite Goreng and Baharat’s efforts to challenge this notion and foster a sense of collectivism among people, their attempts ultimately fail, and any food preservation as they descend into lower levels can only be achieved through violent means.
The sentiment expressed in that message – “people are awful” – resonated profoundly during the pandemic, as it highlighted numerous instances of self-centered behavior, particularly at supermarkets and elsewhere. Sadly, many individuals failed to unite in solidarity and strive for the greater good. However, with time passing, cynicism towards humanity seems more detrimental than beneficial. Indeed, people can be selfish and thoughtless, but we must hold onto instances of kindness and community spirit that humanity has demonstrated over the past few years as proof that such behavior is possible. The “Platform’s” old perspective now appears outdated, reminding us of a time when anxiety was justifiable and inescapable. Remember, if people are capable of causing harm and turning a blind eye to others’ struggles, it simply means they still hold significance.
…but thematic bluntness is more in style
In ‘The Platform,’ there’s no need to guess or ponder; the movie makes its message clear. Trimagasi meticulously lays out the rules of the Pit, explaining every detail with the clarity of a Wikipedia article, ensuring both Goreng and viewers fully grasp the social commentary hidden within the Pit’s workings. His catchphrase, “Obviously,” reflects this straightforward approach. Essentially, it boils down to the simple truth: those at the top get plenty of food, while those at the bottom are left with mere crumbs. The film isn’t trying to be subtle or delicate; instead, it is unabashedly blunt. This directness might not always be appreciated, but in 2024, such straightforwardness could prove to be very powerful.
Currently, many movies addressing social issues are abandoning subtlety and instead making their themes explicit. For instance, “Barbie” features an extended monologue on sexism that took two whole days to film; “Saltburn” and “The Menu” amplify class warfare to striking extremes; “Glass Onion” and “Knives Out” are both direct in their satire. The upcoming movie, “The Substance,” which is gaining significant cultural impact despite limited box office success, has sparked social media like a powder keg with its blatant critique of the beauty industry. As the world becomes increasingly surreal, it seems that subtletly in art might no longer be as appealing to reflect our shared experiences and emotions.
The silent Asian character trope is more dated than ever
As a gamer immersed in “The Platform,” I can’t help but notice the significant role played by the enigmatic figure of Miharu (Alexandra Masangkay). This woman, who consistently journeys down the Pit in pursuit of her child each month, remains an intriguing part of the narrative. However, she never utters a single word throughout the entire film – leaving us questioning why. Regrettably, it seems Miharu is a part of the disheartening trend of silent or nearly speechless Asian characters prevalent in Western media.
These characters, who are sometimes male but frequently embody female stereotypes, typically possess common archetypal traits: They’re stern, stoic, charismatic, extraordinarily proficient in combat, and emotionally guarded. Their scarcity of dialogue often reinforces outdated Western perceptions that East Asians, particularly women from the region, are quiet and reserved. Frequently, this silence also signifies a lack of a well-rounded personality, suggesting that the author is attempting to create the image of an “Asian assassin” with a cool demeanor without having the ability to envision deep emotional depth for Asian female characters.
Jimmy Wong from Mulan raised a point on Twitter not too long after the release of “The Platform,” stating, “One acting trend I’ve observed during pandemic viewing that bothers me: Asian actors who are very attractive and seductive being cast as characters with minimal dialogue, supposedly to create an air of mystery. Yet, it feels more like a stereotype.” Rewatching “The Platform” today, the overt stereotyping of Miharu now seems even more shallow and outdated than it did in 2020.
A curious relationship to mukbang videos
Beyond merely delivering stark messages on the absurdity of wealth disparity, ‘The Platform’ offers a powerful audiovisual journey, marked by haunting and impactful scenes. For example, the depiction of massive quantities of food being devoured is strikingly captivating – there’s an eerie allure to the macabre sight of frantic and unchecked eating. In 2020, part of this captivation was linked to mukbang videos, a popular cultural trend that had reached its peak at the time.
Mukbang videos, where individuals eat large quantities of food in front of a camera for entertainment, gained significant international attention approximately from the mid-2010s onwards. By the time the movie “The Platform” came out, images of mukbangers sitting over lavish feast tables were deeply ingrained in the minds of millions across the world. “The Platform” may have been influenced by, or even benefited from, this visual association.
2024 marks a distinct shift in the landscape for mukbang videos. As they gained popularity, they came under increased criticism from various quarters, including politicians, the public, and the media. Nutrition experts have raised concerns about their promotion of unhealthy eating habits, China has banned them due to their role in food waste, and a well-known mukbanger named Nikocado Avocado made headlines by confessing to posting pre-recorded videos while secretly losing weight for two years. The movie’s images associated with mukbang now seem somewhat prescient in their ominous, dark portrayal.
Pragmatic cannibalism seems so tame nowadays
Throughout the history of horror films, eating human flesh has frequently appeared as the most extreme, shocking act imaginable. However, due to cannibalism being deeply taboo, it’s seldom shown explicitly in mainstream productions. “The Platform” stood out in 2020 for its bold depiction of cannibalism without flinching, including graphic scenes of bites, cuts, and bloodshed. This contributed to its reputation as one of the darkest movies available on Netflix.
Since 2020, there’s been a noticeable decrease in the shock value associated with cannibalism, as it has become more prevalent in mainstream media. Various films and shows have portrayed cannibalism not just as a practice, but as an extreme expression of desire and devotion. For instance, “Yellowjackets” uses cannibalism to explore the complexities of psychosexual relationships. “Bones and All” employs it as a powerful metaphor for passionate, all-encompassing love. Even “Society of the Snow,” with its more traditional themes, presents cannibalism as a means of survival, suggesting that it can be viewed as an act of love, sacrifice, and generosity.
In today’s context, “The Platform” seems surprisingly vintage, given its no-nonsense, practical approach that borders on cannibalism, which now carries a certain nostalgic charm. The straightforward portrayal of cannibalism is somewhat rebellious, but it’s intriguing to speculate about how the film might have evolved if the underlying homosexual undertones between Goreng and Trimagasi were more explicitly expressed.
The lack of answers was thrilling, and the backtracking was inevitable
A significant factor contributing to “The Platform” becoming culturally popular in 2020 was its enigmatic nature. The film doesn’t reveal specifics about who constructed the Pit, its purpose, location, or societal implications, and even the ending leaves questions unanswered. In an era where most mainstream movies strive for clarity, this deliberate lack of explanation added to the movie’s allure. It was a film that kept viewers guessing in an intriguing manner.
Initially, the mystery surrounding “The Platform” was exhilarating, but looking back, it appears inevitable that it couldn’t survive on its own in today’s streaming market. Given the popularity of “The Platform,” it needed to be deciphered. And so, it was, with “The Platform 2” delving into the early days of the Pit and providing answers to some questions left unanswered in the original, such as confirming the popular fan theory that each prisoner was only meant to consume their favorite food. Unfortunately, what it lacks is a film equally captivating – something that was predictable. Re-watching “The Platform” now, it’s apparent that a sequel would only dilute the original’s fairy tale-like impact by providing excess information.
The Platform also works as a critique of streaming services
In “The Platform,” the distribution of resources, including food, can symbolize something beyond just wealth and sustenance. By 2024, another interpretation could be equally valid – though likely unintentional – that the authorities in the Pit represent a metaphor for how some streaming services handle their subscribers. Just as they send content down to the inhabitants without much regard for preference or quality, these services expect consumers to consume whatever is provided with little complaint, filling up on content as long as it keeps them entertained.
Since 2020, we’ve learned a great deal concerning the darker aspects of the streaming industry and its propensity to view movies and TV shows as merely “content” to be blindly thrown at viewers. The bubble finally burst during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike, exposing that the streaming system is heavily reliant on consumer apathy, mindless viewing, and providing just enough entertainment to maintain subscription fees without regard for the individual merit or audience appeal of specific productions. It’s quite amusing irony that this massive streaming hit revolves around an organization feeding people substandard content, aware that viewers will consume it regardless of their enjoyment level.
“The Platform 2” is out now on Netflix.
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2024-10-08 19:30