Don’t Pause Uncut Gems

If you happen to have been living in a cave somewhere in Ethiopia, you might have missed the fact that Uncut Gems, the new, nail-biting thriller from the Safdie brothers, has been making quite a storm on Netflix ever since it landed on the platform in the UK just over a week ago. Featuring a magnetic turn from so-good-when-he-wants-to-be-actor Adam Sandler as a New York bling dealer whose life is turned upside-down by the arrival of the film's titular treasure, Uncut Gems is a true original – a bold and pulpy crime caper that feels like it was lost in the 70s and recently dug up again. A future classic, no doubt, it's the Safdie's best film to date.

Imagine my disdain, then, when I begin to notice a trend of people watching Uncut Gems not in one, uninterrupted viewing, as intended, but in parts. “I haven't finished it yet,” one friend explained when I asked what they thought of its particular brand of uneasy thrills. Days later, another friend revealed they'd stopped it halfway through to make dinner and “couldn't get back into it.” Then an acquaintance mentioned they'd taken not only a number of toilet breaks during the film, but a phone call with a parent in order to discuss their weekend plans. Quickly I came to realise that the pairing of Netflix and Uncut Gems was paving the way for some very different viewing experiences to the one you'd get in a cinema.

I write this, then, as something akin to a public service announcement, addressed to anyone who is yet to see Uncut Gems and is planning to give it a shot on Netflix. A message to anyone who might not realise – and let's face it, unless you'd read the reviews, how would you? – that the overall power of Uncut Gems will be dramatically lessened if you don't absorb its genius in one go.

We all consume media in ways that suit our individual lifestyles, of course, but the problem with this scattered approach is that you only get to see a motion picture like Uncut Gems for the first time once. Don't get me wrong: it's an insanely rewatchable film, but can the second and third viewings really compare to that initial, hand-in-your-mouth experience, where the outcome is as mysterious as the depths of those uncut opals?

Though it goes without saying that no film is designed to be paused, it seems especially blasphemous to pause a movie that has been purposely constructed as a high-wire act of non-stop, nervous tension. You are supposed to feel suffocated by Uncut Gems. The idea is that you are thrown right into the midst of Howard Ratner's chaotic life as he tries to juggle a zillion problems at once – and there is no escape. The moment you pause a film as meticulously paced as this one, you're essentially cutting off its blood supply, denying the art of its higher purpose.

This masterfully controlled upping of tension is what makes Uncut Gems the perfect film for watching in an actual movie theatre. At least in a theatre you are (basically) compelled to sit through the film's entire 135 minute runtime without the option for a break. Afterwards you might walk out onto the street feeling disoriented and confused, like a beaten up bag of nerves – but that's the point. If you haven't seen Uncut Gems in one, uninterrupted viewing, you haven't really seen Uncut Gems.

The issue of Netflix and the pausing of content has made for an interesting and still on-going debate. Last year those who balked at The Irishman's gargantuan 3 hour, 30 minute runtime were comforted somewhat by the notion that they could split it into hour-long chunks (“Who has time for a nearly four hour film?” came the general outcry). The busyness of modern life might have transformed the idea that a movie needs to be consumed in a single sitting, but The Irishman is long because its story necessitates it to be. It's a film where it's essential that we see a man's entire life play out, sometimes repetitively, in a way that makes us feel the weight of the years – of a long and ultimately pointless existence going on and on and on. Pausing merely lets us off the hook, and negates the effect.

Is it possible to enjoy The Irishman and Uncut Gems in smaller increments, with a break in the middle, or across several nights? Of course. But not, I think, at their optimal level, and certainly not in the way intended by those who made them. My deep appreciation for the Safdie's latest compels me to at least try to convince the uninitiated that there is only one way to see it: in one, seamless viewing, where the alchemy of the music and the editing and the performances are allowed to flow uninterrupted. If you don't trust yourself, Uncut Gems is still showing in a few cinemas in the UK (and plenty more in the US, where Netflix is not an option). Or just hide the remote if you have to. When it comes to this movie, that is how you win.