An action-thriller about a writer who takes an experimental drug that allows him to use 100 percent of his mind. As one man evolves into the perfect version of himself, forces more corrupt than he can imagine mark him for assassination. Out-of-work writer Eddie Morra’s (Cooper) rejection by girlfriend Lindy (Abbie Cornish) confirms his belief that he has zero future. That all vanishes the day an old friend introduces Eddie to MDT, a designer pharmaceutical that makes him laser focused and more confident than any man alive. Now on an MDT-fueled odyssey, everything Eddie’s read, heard or seen is instantly organized and available to him. As the former nobody rises to the top of the financial world, he draws the attention of business mogul Carl Van Loon (De Niro), who sees this enhanced version of Eddie as the tool to make billions. But brutal side effects jeopardize his meteoric ascent. With a dwindling stash and hit men who will eliminate him to get the MDT, Eddie must stay wired long enough to elude capture and fulfill his destiny. If he can’t, he will become just another victim who thought he’d found invincibility in a bottle.
Limitless can be read as two different things, and depending on what meaning we choose to attach to it, we’ll either hate it or be terrified by how accurately it portrays our society. This film is either a sleazy instruction video on what we should all strive for and what average people (like us, presumably) should do if we ever become really rich and powerful, or an indictment of what we would do were we to become bigshots like Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper, “The Hangover”).If we’re supposed to think of this movie in that first context, then, frankly, it sucks. It’s like a 12-year-old boy imagined what it would be like to have the smartest brain in the world. For the record, you don’t have to be the smartest person in the world to get a haircut, wash your clothes, contribute nothing to society and have sex with tons of women, which is 90 percent of what Morra does once he discovers the powers he gets from a new super-pill, NZT. The drug is illegal, and Morra has to steal it from his drug-dealing ex-brother-in-law to get his hands on it, but once it’s in his system he quickly transforms into the person he presumably always wanted to be.However, if we place “Limitless” in a broader cultural context, we can then assign it much more value and importance as a pessimistic look at what people in 2011 would do if they could do anything in the world. Innumerable sexual encounters aside, Morra doesn’t do a single thing for anyone but himself once he gets hooked on NZT. Apparently the smartest possible version of Eddie Morra looks, acts and talks a lot like any other asshole who grew up with a silver spoon in his or her mouth. But, strangely, while this feels disappointing and upsetting, it doesn’t feel incorrect.
This is where the duality in how we read the film becomes important. If the film is claiming that the self-glorifying romps Cooper goes on (once he’s dominated the stock market and made himself an overnight sensation) are the smartest possible thing someone can do, then it should’ve been called “Pointless.” But by thinking of this man’s new superpowers as neither inherently good nor bad, and using them as mere access points to find out what he really believes in, we are shown a saddening but spot-on mirror image of the egotistical culture in which we participate every day.If we’re supposed to think of this movie in that first context, then, frankly, it sucks. It’s like a 12-year-old boy imagined what it would be like to have the smartest brain in the world. For the record, you don’t have to be the smartest person in the world to get a haircut, wash your clothes, contribute nothing to society and have sex with tons of women, which is 90 percent of what Morra does once he discovers the powers he gets from a new super-pill, NZT.So, if the point of this movie is that enough power can corrupt even a good person, then, frankly, it still sucks, because Morra is kind of a lazy douche before the powers anyway.
