I'm not going to lie, when the BBFC card appeared and the screen-sides didn't expand out to 2.35:1, I was surprised. To say the least. Imagine visualising a film this aesthetically gorgeous, having the means and technology to realise it, then at some point saying out loud "Oh, I think 16:9 will do for the aspect ratio. Don't want to go mad, do we?". But hey ratio's not everything, it's what you do with the screen-space you've got, right? And damn, this film looks good, even down to the usually-problematic 3D rendering.
In an alternate near-future and after a near-fatal accident, the operative known as Major is rescued by the enigmatic Section 9, transplanting her still-functioning brain into a resilient synthetic body. But a series of escalating incidents uncovers fragments of a larger conspiracy, and Major begins having flashbacks to a past she can't remember…
It's Robocop. There, I said it. Ghost In The Shell is never a bad film, I feel I should also point that out at this early juncture. Not least because my notes contain nothing but tuts and grumbles. If it's not my perceived cross-referencing with other genre movies, it's the niggle-points which make little or no sense*1.
Scarlett Johansson's on good form (although she's rarely anything other), but you can't help feel that her acting here is just a combination of Black Widow and the alien from Under The Skin. Fascinating, just nothing new. Elsewhere, Juliet Binoche stars as Captain Exposition, Pilou Asbæk plays his role as Batou like it was written for Keifer Sutherland, and Michael Pitt's Kuze delivers dialogue like he's channelling Stephen Hawking and Max Headroom at the same time. It's all an odd mix, but it works for the movie.
My main problem, as I intimated above, is that nothing really feels new here. Even though it's based on a 1995 animation from a 1989 comic, the story itself doesn't feel like it ever invented any of what's happening*2. Now there are reasons that that shouldn't matter, and indeed reasons that it doesn't. But those reasons weren't sitting with me in screen 5 tonight, unfortunately. When [redacted] is working in her office browsing incriminating files, you just know from the very first frame of that scene that this is where she dies. And the moment Major picks up that cat? The entire audience instantly knows where that's headed, even before the characters sit down for a cuppa. But damn, this film looks good.
Without wanting to damn with faint praise, this is perfectly acceptable popcorn-fodder. Wanted to love it, but came away liking-with-reservations.
At the risk of sounding melodramatic, the absolutely stunning cinematography, effects and production design here feel slightly wasted on a standard procedural conspiracy thriller.
Ghost In The Shell looks superficially amazing, but feels mechanical and spiritually empty. That's either entirely fitting or deeply ironic…
Well, Robocop, The Matrix, Blade Runner, and the Alice-thread of Resident Evil.
Although if you enjoyed all of those, you don't really need to see Ghost In The Shell…
For the visuals, absolutely.
I imagine so.
It's the scale of the ambition itself I'm unsure about.
Good, sure. Best, no.
Nope.
Not that I heard.
Level 1: The visual effects supervisor is none other than Star Wars legend, John Dykstra.
And sure, I normally keep this section reserved for people in front of the camera, but his name's in the opening titles. Plus, he's a bloody legend.
*1 SPOILERS, highlight-to-read: Okay, when Cutter leans forward on Aramaki's desk, his hands are in a different position between the intercut front and rear shots. And when Batou gets the news about Dahlin in his car, he goes into a skidding 270° from standing when he could have saved time by just turning left and accelerating as normal. And the animation where Major is jumping away from the spider-tank looks atrocious. And if Motoko's brain is in Major's synthetic body, why does she have a flawless American accent? Sure, she'd have "Johansson's" vocal cords, but an accent comes from the social-conditioning in the brain. I mean, it's not inconceivable that Motoko spoke another language un-accented, but after meeting her mum, it's not very likely, is it? I probably shouldn't notice all these the first time I'm watching a film…[ BACK ]
*2 The worst part could be that I haven't seen the 1995 version and deliberately didn't watch it in advance, preferring to see the live-action version with no (or at least minimal) preconceptions. It still held no surprises, like listening to a cover version of a song that you've never heard but realise you know anyway. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
The A-word.
It's the bane of cinephiles, everywhere.
That book you love; the comic you remember; the show you used to watch; the game you lost an entire summer playing? Oh, someone's adapted it and it's getting made into a movie! Whether a cause for pre-emptive celebration or foreboding caution, it leads to only one thing: expectation. And expectation is the death of the 'clean' movie-viewing experience; no matter how closely the film sticks to its source material, or how much it tries to distance itself, it will be faced with the hurdle of comparison.
And while the movie industry loves the pre-built marketing buzz of 'now a major motion picture!', they loathe the comparative references which will be made from the first review onwards. Because many punters will expect to get exactly the same reaction from a completely different medium, to a story they already know. And therein lies the problem.
In this monthly series, we'll look back at some of the most respected and best-loved properties which have made the perilous journey to the big screen; often with some controversy, and almost always with far too much hype. This isn't so much a review of the films themselves, more an appraisal of their suitability as an adaptation.
I was lucky in that I'd (inadvertently) picked an edition of Androids featuring an introduction by Paul McAuley. Printed in 2011, the three-page opener tells the reader eloquently, yet bluntly, to un-remember the film which will no doubt be first and foremost in their mind. It should be obvious that the 1968 book isn't a novelisation of the 1982 movie, but it's a point which bears stating at the outset.
In Dick's Los Angeles of 1992, a radioactive dust hangs in the air and killed most of Earth's wildlife in the early days of 'World War Terminus'. Any remaining animals are extremely rare, and owning/caring for one has become both a social and moral duty, as well as a status-symbol. For those who cannot afford a real animal, electronic replicants are available. But the planet is essentially dying, with most of the surviving inhabitants having moved out to colonies on Mars and beyond. The remaining humans on Earth huddle under the spiritual umbrella of a secular-religion Mercerism, based around shared empathy, and use a domestic appliance known as a Mood Organ to generate emotion on demand, counteracting (or even causing) whatever anxieties are on their minds. Aspiration, reassurance, faith and narcotics; times may change, but human behaviour does not.
As an inducement to relocate, the authorities offer migrants their own personal android-assistant, off-world. Manufactured by The Rosen Association, these ever-improving machines grow more interwoven in their extra-planetary societies, but are still viewed as equipment, despite having intelligence and self-awareness. What they lack is spontaneous empathy, a trait which their manufacturers have been unable to simulate via programming. Any androids who manage to escape their servitude usually make their way to Earth, where they realise a less-dense population offers more places to hide.
Taking place over roughly 24 hours, the story follows state-licensed bounty hunter Rick Deckard, in the middle of squabbling with his wife as he's called in by the LAPD to retire six escaped Nexus 6-model androids after they hospitalise his colleague, Dave Holden. Among them is the group's leader Roy Baty, his android wife, Irmgard, and Pris, who hole up in the ramshackle apartment of simple-minded delivery driver, J.R. Isidore (the character who becomes J.F. Sebastian for the film). But what the machines apparently lack in emotional judgement and experience, they more than make up for in raw strength and intelligence. In order to complete his assignment, Deckard travels to The Rosen Association headquarters in Seattle, where the enigmatic Rachael is tasked to assist him, being a legalised Nexus-6 herself.
+ + + + +
Far more introspective than its cinematic offspring, this is a book about empathy, identity and consciousness. Those themes exist in the adaptation as well, of course, but here they make up most of the inner dialogue. And while Rick is still handed the assignment in much the same circumstances, the interaction with his quarry is more in-depth than just point/shoot*1. It's this engagement which leads to the mercenary questioning his own empathy, and frequently. The notorious question of 'is Deckard a replicant?' is dealt with directly here, and by Deckard himself (although I won't tell you which way that turns out).
A fairly slim volume at 193pages (my edition, at least), Philip K. Dick doesn't waste too much time describing the scenery, keeping the story moving forward with each compact chapter. The spectre of implanted-memories raises its head again, arguably with better impact than in his story which was about implanted memories. Dick also focuses far more on the above-mentioned conversations between Deckard and the rogue-androids, than when the hired killer finally despatches them. The retirements are treated as punctuation at the end of a life-sentence, rather than a reflective denouement. Not to get too spoiler-ific, but you remember in Blade Runner when the final showdown with Roy progresses from a tense lengthy shootout to a rooftop chase, then rain-soaked iconic soliloquy? Here's how it plays out on paper...
"I'm sorry, Mrs Baty," Rick said, and shot her. Roy Baty, in the other room, let out a cry of anguish.
"Okay, you loved her," Rick said, "And I loved Rachael. And the special loved the other Rachael." He shot Roy Baty; the big man's corpse lashed about, toppled like an over-stacked collection of separate, brittle entities; it smashed into the kitchen table and carried dishes and flatware down with it. Reflex circuits in the corpse made it twitch and flutter, but it had died.
Rick ignored it, not seeing it and not seeing that of Irmgard Baty by the front door. I got the last one, Rick realised. Six today; almost a record. And now it's over and I can go home.
No Tears In Rain, here. But the book isn't Roy's story, it's Rick's. That's not to say the artificial lifeforms don't each become characters in themselves, but we see everything that happens through the eyes of Deckard, or of Isidore, the radiation-addled loner who's high on empathy but low on social-skills. The humanity the androids develop (for better or worse) isn't explored too deeply, as it's laid out plainly that these beings aren't physically human. We can't understand what it's like to actually be them any more than we could put ourselves in the mind of a dolphin, or more accurately an alien. Humanity is specific, empathy is universal.
+ + + + +
As well as the upfront issues of self-awareness, there's also an intricate subtext of guilt being played out in the pages. The humans don't trust the independent thought of their android servants as they perceive them as lacking in empathy. But this flaw is a by-product of the humans' manufacturing process; it can't be programmed in, so can only develop with time and interaction, the way it does in other animals. The problem is that androids only live for around four years (explained in the book as being that their cell-generation can't match the demands put upon it by the machine itself), so at best they're only going to attain the emotional understanding of a toddler. Couple that with being treated as hardware and it's no surprise that the androids start wanting a better life for themselves, a recurring theme in science fiction.
So the Rosen Association has progressively created a life-like machine, driven by market demand. The public treats the machine as a disposable object, the disposable object objects. The authorities decide that the machines can't be allowed to exist under their own auspices, ostensibly because their lack of pathos could cause them to kill a human when confronted in a deadly situation. In reality, their judicial reaction of sentencing runaway androids to 'retirement' is born of fear and guilt. The collective society in the story, already in a state of contrition after a devastating war, cannot see that it is responsible for its perceived nemesis at every single turn, not least because the androids have been literally modelled in their image. A generation which prides itself on empathy has such a narrow definition of the word that it can't see the threat it's created, or the irony of restricting the emotion to beings it can control.
Make no mistake, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is a story about a bounty hunter going out to kill six escaped slaves because society deems them to be less than human. It is a tale for past, future and indeed present times.
Blade Runner (U.S. Theatrical Cut)
Ridley Scott (1982)
And so, in the hands of screenwriters David Peoples and Hampton Fancher, 1992 becomes 2019 with Los Angeles in a near-permanent state of filth and rain-soaked darkness. Gone is the domesticated discontent of the novel, as Harrison Ford's Rick Deckard lives divorced and alone in a morose ponderousness of bourbon, takeaway noodles and melancholic piano-playing. The protagonist's narration*2 pulls the telling into full film noir and centres it solely around him. He's certainly more of an actual detective this time around. Deckard feels a little older than before, and the story sees him being pulled (with no shortage of intentional irony I'm sure) out of retirement to conduct his mission, although the six escaped replicants of Blade Runner have already killed twenty-three humans on their way to Earth, making Deckard's lethal mandate more narratively justifiable.
The androids are referred to exclusively as replicants now, and script references to genetic engineers indicate that there is indeed little or nothing electronic/mechanical about them, where this was more vague in the book. There are still artificial creatures in the story and the Voigt-Kampff test still centres around hypothetical situations involving cruelty to animals, although there's nothing in the film to indicate how/why biological ones are so hard to come by. World War Terminus doesn't get so much as a sniff.
As Deckard's role remains central, the development of J.R. Isidore / J.R. Sebastian is transferred onto the replicants, which given the film's finale is entirely fitting. In this version, it's Sebastian who becomes more the sketched-in archetype, with his backstory retooled to be more useful to the tweaked plot structure. Along with replicants Pris and Roy being given more of the limelight, it's also notable that the informant Rachael is a far more sympathetic character than her written counterpart. In Dick's novel, Rachael and Pris look identical, being the same model android. And although Sean Young and Daryl Hannah are fantastic here, I'd be intrigued to see the film where either actress plays both roles.
The screenplay runs on a parallel track to the novel, with new characters and situations, but always heading in the same direction and for the same reasons. As with earlier entries in this series, the film expands, reinterprets and amplifies the cinematic aspects of its source material. Ridley Scott does an admirable job of carrying over the psychological and moral themes of the story, but with cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth, brings a visual poetry to the cityscape that even Philip K. Dick hadn't envisioned.
Ridley Scott's taken something that was very good and made it very great. That's a rare ability, and one that even he hasn't mastered using consistently.
*1 On this subject, the Voigt-Kampff personality-test is very much a part of the novel as it is the film, and with similar mechanics it's not explained why androids can best be discovered via this laborious process, as opposed to heat-readings, EMP-scans, x-ray etc. There's the implication that they're constructed with mostly organic (and nano-electronic) components, but there'd still be some massive physical internal differences, surely? But look at me, wanting everything explained…[ BACK ]
*2 I'd forgotten quite how laconic Ford's voiceover is. At one point it reminded me of My Name Is Earl. "Yup, that brought me to #22 on my list: Shot an android stripper in the back…"[ BACK ]
*3 Anyway, 2019's not far off. Where's my voice-activated Polaroid-printing machine? Actually I joke about it, but it's only really like someone smashed Siri and Instagram together. Which is more 21st Century that I'd like to think about, frankly… [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Full disclosure, this film wasn't really made for me and I'm absolutely fine with that. By the time Power Rangers started airing on UK television in the mid-90s, I was already going to work down the pit for sixteen hours a day (and more importantly, getting back into obsessing over Star Wars), so other than a bare-bones knowledge of its existence, I was bringing little in the way of baggage to this particular gathering. However, I like to think I know enough about movies to spot the difference between world-building and box-ticking. Most cinematic reboots don't become really heavy-handed fan service until their second or third instalments. Power Rangers waits around forty-five minutes. More amazingly though, it sort of works.
So. Something-something group of disparate teenagers; Something-something asteroid crash site; Something-something evil forces awakening; Something-something super-powers awarded to worthy heroes. Think the Sword in the Stone meets Guardians of the Galaxy. Classic hero's journey stuff, no problem there. A gently-paced opening act introduces the five teenagers who will go on to be trusted with tools of unbelievable destruction, before its successor arrives bearing over-generous amounts of exposition and training montages. The by-the-book origins story is solid enough, the super-powered Breakfast Club bonding feels more laboured. The young central cast themselves are good form, but any performer older than twenty or so comes off as patronising at best. Scoring the most highly in that round are Mr Bryan Cranston and Ms Elizabeth Banks*1, both of whom blithely continue to devalue their own showreels.
As well as satisfying all the checklist items required of a throwback movie, the thematic nostalgia is furthered by referencing visual beats from The Lost Boys, Ghostbusters and perhaps more notably, the first Avengers flick. But as the film goes on, it shifts in tone from moody-teen pouting to the brightly coloured, super-camp finale which is at least fitting for its televisual roots.
As hero origin-stories go, Power Rangers is surprisingly reasonable, if somewhat unremarkable (considering it's a shameless series-opener and two hour action-figure advert). And as much as it pains me to admit it, the film has more focus and unabashed self-awareness than DC seem to have managed recently. Still, we live in hope. Obviously, this film will be sequelled to death, inevitably diluting the fun and feasibility with each new entry (for those interested, there's a mid-credits teaser scene, but nothing at the end).
But fair play to Lionsgate for putting out a 12A certificate film when the core target demographic is aged around 7. And Power Rangers is definitely at the lighter-end of 12A, but the rating still stands. Approach with caution.
Not necessarily, unless you want the multi-coloured carnage to be bigger.
Y'know what?
It does.
With the best will in the world, I should hope not.
Nope.
There is.
Level 1: The voice of Alpha 5 is performed by the voice of BB-8, Bill Hader.
^^ And a 4 seems harsher than it's intended to be, it's just not strong to be a 5 round these parts. The film was relatively enjoyable for its duration, but by this time tomorrow I'll be struggling to remember most of what happened in it, apart from admirable work with the Blue and the Yellow Rangers, and Elizabeth Banks letting herself down again. I'm not the target audience, and it had pretty much no impact on me either way.
*1 I know that the Power Rangers' nemesis hasn't been newly named for this movie, but an antagonist named Rita further strengthens my theory (following on from last week's Elaine and Maureen) that prominent female roles in 2017's movies are being screen-written by my Grandma's friends. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
And, relax. After the pleasant surprise that was Disney's retelling of Cinderella, but followed the next year by a rendition of The Jungle Book which left me blank-faced, I wasn't exactly a quivering bundle of excitement for Beauty And The Beast being given the same live-action treatment. Which would partly explain why it took me a week to set aside the time to go see it.
But the Friday-night performance of the film (and in my local's largest auditorium) was veritably packed. Considering there are still five-showings a day and it's been out for a week, this is an excellent turn and good news for everybody. Speaking of which, let's cut to the chase: Beauty And The Beast is marvellous. I see no reason to build up to praise, here. Following the framework of the classic story, it's primarily a remake of the 1991 animated film, with branches of the 1994 Broadway musical grafted on. And it is, to be blunt, perfect Disney.
Emma Watson and Dan Stevens bring equally bold performances, with subtle character-development on each side which could easily be overlooked by many another director. They're reliably supported by an ensemble cast of established character actors*1 and near-flawless visuals. There are enough songs to make the film A Musical™, but still plenty of gaps in between to allow for actual storytelling to occur. Although speaking of the cast, I can't help but feel that the Scottish Ewan McGregor's vocal performance as the French candelabra Lumiere is a calculated, 30-year payback for Christopher Lambert's work in Highlander. Never entirely comfortable with anything other than his native-brogue or Kenobi British, the actor's nowhere near 'bad' here but always just sounds like Ewan McGregor putting on an arch, comedy-French accent.
And speaking of retribution, there's been much (and needless) controversy about Josh Gad's LeFou being depicted as gay in the film, of course. While his moments are certainly played up for comic relief, he is nonetheless one of the film's character high-points. But the cynic in me couldn't help but wonder if this more sympathetic turn is Gad showing some form of penitence for his borderline homophobic character in PIxels. I actually hope it is.
But all in all, there's really very little for me to say about Beauty And The Beast. The audience know what they're going in for, and the film delivers. Although more eager to see the film that I was, Mrs Blackout actually found the film's finale to be a bit over the top. I, on the other hand, think that by that point, the film has earned every second of its self-indulgent and boisterous crescendo.
With a cast this strong, probably not, to be fair.
Nope.
I didn't hear one.
Which is ridiculous, because there's a five-minute segment just crying out for it.
Level 1: This film's got the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi in it.
*1 With the unsurprising exception of Luke Evans, who seems to think he's starring in an am-dram pantomime version of the tale. It's perhaps not his fault as he's a) almost uniformly awful in everything, and b) been mis-cast terribly to begin with. While Gaston is certainly a deplorable archetype, part of that is his deceptively-dashing exterior. It's never a 'reveal' that the character's actually an arsehole, but you're supposed to come to the conclusion gradually. Evans' version just looks like a wrong'un from the moment he steps onto set, barking like Peter Kay auditioning for The Pirates Of Penzance… [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Get Out Cert: 15 / 104 mins / Dir. Jordan Peele / Trailer
Oh. March. The third month of the calendar-year, just after the earnest hand-wringing of the Oscars and before the deafening explosions of the Summer blockbuster, is regularly the release-window for substandard weirdness (cf 2016, 2015, 2014), indeed that's what we've come to expect. But even I'll admit that the trailer for the Blumhouse-produced Get Out looked like it could be set to buck that trend by bringing far more to the party than was expected of it...
Setting off for to meet his girlfriend Rose's affluent white parents for the first time, young photographer Chris is already fairly trepidacious as they haven't been told he's black. When they arrive however, the atmosphere is weirder than even he imagined; the parents are nothing but welcoming, yet something is very, very wrong. As the weekend progresses, tensions rise and strange events escalate, but will Chris solve the puzzle, or just be one of the pieces?
A combination of a particularly heavyweight awards season and an off the cuff comment by someone who should really know better has perhaps written a reputational cheque that Jordan Peele didn't realise he'd need to cash. Don't get me wrong, this is certainly a good film but I'd struggle to call it more than that. Third-act silliness prevents Get Out from being quite as incisive as it'd like. In terms of Satire™, the film is more of a sledgehammer than a scalpel, although obviously some nuts are harder to crack.
But great performances from Daniel Kaluuya and Allison Williams as the central couple are key to the film's cinematic efficiency. The supporting cast range from textbook to scenery-chewing, but they're largely fine given the context of the film. Unexpected praise also goes to LilRel Howery as the 'funny best friend on the end of the phone' archetype, who is far better than a film like this would normally allow (although he does more than his share of plot-lifting, too).
Leaving aside the obvious current socio-political relevance, the mechanics of the movie are... well, pretty mechanical. The creeping paranoia is implemented fantastically, being psychological rather than supernatural. Foreshadowing plot-points are meticulously laid out and counted neatly back in again although never with a heavy-hand, a move which should make re-watching the film workable (no mean feat with this narrative structure). Get Out is a big fan of traditional jump-scares too though, which lets down a screenplay that's clearly more self-aware than its contemporaries. None of it's badly done, but this certainly feels like Jordan Peele has managed to paint an interesting picture using the same old worn out brushes we've seen other artists use.
All in all, Get Out is more than reasonable, although I'm already worrying about the movies which will try ride in its slipstream.
But if the weight of real-world politics is perhaps putting you off this psych-horror, don't worry too much; the film features an almost unhealthy amount of Microsoft product placement. Now I'm someone who raises an eyebrow when everyone on-screen uses devices with an Apple logo on them, but seeing the MS/Windows branding this much, all in the same place? Rest assured, you're watching fiction...
For full tension, yes.
If you already have any kind of hearing-damage, no.
It does.
Probably not best, but it'll be one of the best-remembered.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 2: Daniel Kaluuya also appeared in Sicario, alongside Benicio 'as-yet unnamed character from The Last Jedi' Del Toro.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
