One complaint you cannot level at Limitless is that it is unoriginal or uncreative. In an upcoming summer of senseless sequels and repugnant remakes, Limitless—warts and all—is at least something we’ve never seen before.

Using the longstanding (but erroneous) theory that we use only a fraction of our brain’s potential, Limitless introduces us to Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper), a writer who is suffering from chronic writer’s block and can’t see any way to break both his life and his art out of a deepening malaise. Enter NZT, a revolutionary (but unapproved) new pharmaceutical that allows the user to access his full potential. It isn’t long before Eddie is burning through novels, and also, proving both his right and left hemispheres are firing equally, taking Wall Street by storm. His unbounded talent catches the eye of mega-mogul Carl Van Loon (Robert De Niro), who takes the young man under his wing. Soon Eddie is dressed in the finest suits, driving the flashiest cars and living in the fanciest digs. But Van Loon isn’t the only person who takes notices. Soon Eddie is fighting for his life against not only those who would have the secret to his success, but also the drug’s vicious side effects.

Based on the novel by Alan Glynn, Limitless is compelling because it represents the sort of fantasy fulfillment story we’ve all imagined ourselves inhabiting but to which we rarely admit. We’ve all been in “the zone,” that magical sweet spot in which we can do no wrong and feel utterly invincible. Limitless represents a state in which “the zone” is the new normal. While in no way philosophically dense, it’s heady stuff nonetheless, shot through with incandescent possibility and, as the film makes clear, life threatening trouble. Limitless does not appear to be a metaphor about the dangers of drug use, but that did not stop the filmmakers from borrowing from those experiences—NZT comes with glorious highs and deadly lows, the usual plethora of addict excuses and false promises, and necessary associations with human-shaped monsters that live on society’s underbelly and feed off its weakest members.

Director Neil Burger (The Illusionist) has done a splendid job of heightening reality in his film as a way to give us some sort of visual approximation of what is going on inside Eddie’s head. He uses creative camerawork and explosive color to reveal the paradigm shift NZT produces. Screenwriter Leslie Dixon, who does the same thing with words, must have had fun coming up with ways to show us how Eddie was operating on a completely different plane of consciousness, a plane so beyond ours that Eddie outwitting his enemies requires no more effort than it would take you or me to outwit a caterpillar. (De Niro also gets a very nice monologue about the implications of unearned power.)

Where Limitless stumbles and falls is in not keeping tidy or cleaning up after itself. Oh, what a tangled web this film weaves only to, in the final act, give up even trying to extricate itself. It gets to the meat of the conflict far too quickly; we need more time with Eddie as a man untouchable. It introduces a major plot point—the death of a woman and the implication that Eddie, in some NZT-crazed state, may have been responsible—but brushes over both the resolution and his guilt. And it includes a scene of such profound stupidity as to almost obliterate any pent up good will.

In many ways, Limitless plays like the story of Icarus, who, as the legend tells, died when he became arrogant in his abilities and flew too close to the sun. However, the end of the film reveals screenwriter Dixon to be dabbling in a bit of revisionist mythology. Limitless’ unexpected conclusion is either far too abrupt or just perfect, maintaining the sort of delirious ambiguity that allows for anything to be possible. It is emotionally satisfying but not remotely intellectually so.

© Copyright 2011 Brandon Fibbs. All rights reserved.

Directed by Neil Burger
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro, Abbie Cornish, Andrew Howard, Anna Friel, Johnny Whitworth, Tomas Arana, Robert John Burke, Darren Goldstein, Ned Eisenberg, T.V. Carpio, Richard Bekins, Patricia Kalember
Rated PG-13 for thematic material, violence, sexuality and language.
Running Time: 105 minutes