Movies

Movies So Bad They’re Good

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A recent topic on Cinecast (the excellent Chicago-based podcast by Adam Kempenaar and Sam Hallgren) was movies that are so bad they’re good. Depending on how you define such a movie, this could be quite difficult, and the Cinecast folks took one of the more difficult interpretations. They wanted movies that were actually transcendantly bad and they knew that was a difficult task, so they requested each listener to send in a pick.

Once I started thinking about it, I realized that most of the movies that came to mind were movies I liked despite the fact that they were bad, not movies that I liked because they were bad (i.e. Phantasm). Again, there’s lots of room for interpretation with this type of film, but I was looking for a movie that I thought was good first, then after a moment’s thought realized how foolish it was. After some thought, I finally settled on my number 1 movie that’s so bad its good: Rocky IV. I sent my pick to the Cinecast folks along with a brief description of why I thought it qualified, and they actually read it on the air (in this show, if you’re interested)! Here was my brief description:

My suggestion for the “So Bad It’s Good” top 5 would have to be Rocky IV. Easily the most ludicrous film in the entire series – filled with horrible cliches, cardboard cutout characters, 80s montages (in fact, I think the film is primarily composed of a series of montages set to 80s music that would also qualify as “so bad they’re good”), bad monosyllabic acting, laughable geo-political undertones, and the list goes on and on. Yet it’s also probably the most entertaining of all the Rocky movies. It distills all of the superficial but enjoyable cliches of the first three movies into a film that has to be described as so bad it’s good.

Rocky IV genuinely isn’t a bad movie. If you were to objectively evaluate every individual component of the film, it would be a horrible film, but together, it is truly more than the sum of it’s parts. Naturally, there are many specific bad things that I like about the film, but I was attempting brevity. However, as I’m sure my regular readers (all 4 of you) know, brevity usually isn’t an issue on my blog, so here are some of my favorite things about Rocky IV:

  • In the course of Jonathan Morris’s excellent post on the Rocky series, he references the excellent start of the film thusly: “James Brown performs ‘Living In America,’ and Drago—perhaps angered by the performance—kills Apollo in the ring.” Classic start.
  • A commenter from the Rocky post above calls out another excellent moment in the film, right after Apollo’s funeral:

    My favorite moment is, after Apollo dies, and Rocky decides to go for a soul-searching drive (while that song “There’s No Easy Way Out” is playing), he looks in the rear-view mirror and thinks he sees Drago. Clearly the best use of the “I mistakenly thought I saw my nemesis in the reflection of a mirror/window” moment in movie history. What’s the runner-up, you ask? That honor goes to Bloodsport, when Van Damme thinks he sees Chong Li in the reflection of a Hong Kong subway window.

    I considered bloodsport for a top 5 spot (see below), but it ultimately lost out…

  • Brilliant training montages cross-cut to contrast Drago’s futuristic, ultra-high-tech regimen with Rocky’s more wholistic, old-school program. Drago’s constantly hooked up to machines which measure his performance, while Rocky likes to run around in deep snow (which, I’ll grant, isn’t as easy as it looks), lifting ox-carts and the like. My favorite part, when Rocky is in such great shape that he is able to lose his Soviet handlers while running up a mountain, and when he gets to the top, he screams “DRAGO!!!” at the top of his lungs.
  • After the fight with Drago, Rocky addresses the Soviet Union: “I guess what I’m trying to say is, if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change.” And thus the Cold War was won…

I could probably go on and on, but I wanted to list out my Top 5 So Bad They’re Good Movies. Some notes on criteria first. As previously mentioned, these are movies so bad they’re good, not movies I like despite the fact that they’re bad. As Cinecast put it, they’re transcendantly bad. Also worth noting is that I’m not including campy movies or movies that are intentionally bad (ruling out the likes of Evil Dead II, Army of Darkness, and Big Trouble in Little China)

  1. Rocky IV: For reasons I’ve already spoken too much about above.
  2. Commando: One of Schwarzenegger’s best/worst films in which he plays a ex-military superman who is forced back into an action by an old colleague gone bad. The ending of the film, in which “Matrix” takes out an entire island of enemy troops is a gem.
  3. Red Dawn: A Soviet/Cuban invasion of America? You bet, and a band of high school students led by Patrick Swayze mount a guerilla campaign in resistance (using the name of their football team, the Wolverines, as their name). A classic.
  4. Cobra: Another Sly Stallone movie? Indeed. Similar to Commando, the ending sequence in which Stallone takes out an entire cult of axe-clanking maniacs while riding in the back of a pickup is brilliant…
  5. Point Break: Keanu Reeves plays FBI Special Agent Johnny Utah, need I say more? Ok, Gary Busey, Patrick Swayze (again!) playing someone named “Bodie,” surfing, and much, much more… Worth watching just for Keanu’s delivery of the line “I am an FBI agent.”

Honorable Mention: Bloodsport, Breakin’ 2 – Electric Boogaloo (mostly for the name), Tango & Cash (Stallone, again), The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (which may be disqualified for its camp factor), and Rambo: First Blood Part II (Stallone fights communists again; he’s such a champ in this category).

Interestingly enough, the grand majority of my choices are 80s movies (and they dominated the Cinecast choices as well), which is probably appropriate as the 80s were truly so bad they’re good. There’s probably a large element of nostalgia at work with my choices here as well, as these were all movies I loved to watch when I was growing up in the 80s…

Feel free to leave your picks in the comments. It’s an interesting subject, and perhaps because of the nostalgia aspect, it seems to be strangely personal.

Update: A friend just chimed in with Varsity Blues. We’re both a little unsure if it qualifies, but if it does, I think it could easily displace one of my top 5. Excellent choice…

Alien Invasions

3 Comments / Movies, Science & Technology / /

Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds is a pretty tense affair. The director knows how to lay on the suspense and he certainly applies that knowledge liberally in the film. It’s a good thing too, because when he allows a short breather, your mind immediately starts asking questions that can only have embarrassingly illogical answers.

Luckily, Spielberg’s version of the infamous H.G. Wells novel focuses on one character, not the big picture of the story. This relegates the aliens in the film to a MacGuffin, a mostly unexplained excuse to place pressure on the protagonist Ray Ferrier (played competently by Tom Cruise). In this respect, it resembles M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs more than other recent big budget disaster films like Independence Day. Its pacing and relentless tension make the film feel more like horror than science fiction. Unfortunately, there’s enough pseudo-explanations and speculations about the aliens to strain the suspension of disbelief that is required for this film to work. I’ve found that I generally have more movie-going goodwill than others (i.e. letting art be art), so I didn’t mind the lack of details and even some of the odd quirky logic that seems to drive the plot, which really focuses on the aforementioned Ray’s relationship with his kids (and not the aliens). Ultimately, there’s nothing special about the story, but in the hands of someone as proficient as Speilberg, it works well enough for me. It’s visually impressive and quite intense.

Besides, it’s not like the concept itself makes all that much sense. In 1898, Wells’ novel was probably seen as somewhat realistic, though the Martians-as-metaphor themes didn’t escape anyone. In 1938, Orson Welles’s infamous radio broadcast of the story scared the hell out of listeners who thought that an actual invasion was occurring. Today, the concept of an advanced alien civilization invading earth has lost much of its edge, perhaps because we understand the science of such a scenario much better than we used to. If you’re able to put aside the nagging questions, it still holds a certain metaphorical value, but even that is starting to get a little old.

No explicit motivation is attributed to the aliens in Spielberg’s film, but in other stories it generally comes down to the aliens’ lust for resources (“They’re like locusts. They’re moving from planet to planet… their whole civilization. After they’ve consumed every natural resource they move on…”). This, of course, makes no sense.

Space is big. Huge. From what we know of life in the universe, it appears to be quite rare and extremely spread out. Travel between civilizations may be possible due to something exotic like a wormhole or faster-than-light travel, but even if that were possible (and that’s a big if), traversing the distances involved in the usually huge and powerful alien craft is still bound to expend massive amounts of energy. And for what? Resources? What kinds of resources? Usually “resources” is code for energy, but that doesn’t make much sense to me. They’d have to have found something workable (perhaps fusion) just to make the trip to Earth, right? In the miniseries V the aliens are after water, which is an impressively ignorant motivation (hydrogen and oxygen are among the universe’s most abundant elements and water itself has been observed all over our galaxy). Perhaps the combination of water, mineral resources, a temperate climate, a protective and varied atmosphere, animal and plant life, and relatively stable ecosystems would make Earth a little more attractive.

What else makes Earth so special? There would have to be some sort of resource we have that most other planets don’t. Again, Earth is one of the rare planets capable of supporting life, but we can infer that they’re not looking for life itself (their first acts invariably include an attempt to exterminate all life they come accross. In War of the Worlds, the Alien tripods start by vaporizing every human they see. Later in the film, we see them sort of “eating” humans. This is a somewhat muddled message, to say the least). And whatever this resource is, it would have to justify risking a war with an indigenous intelligent life form. Granted, we probably wouldn’t stand much of a chance against their superior technology, but at the very least, our extermination would require the expenditure of yet more energy (further discrediting the notion that what the aliens are after is an energy source). Plus, it’s not like we’ve left the planet alone – we’re busy using up the resources ourselves. Also, while our weapons may be no match for alien defenses, they’d be quite sufficent to destroy much of the planet’s surface out of spite, rendering the alien invasion moot.

The only thing that even approaches making any sort of sense is that they want Earth as a new home for themselves. As one of the few planets capable of supporting life, I suppose it could be valuable in that respect. Indeed, in Wells’ novel, the Martians attacked earth because their planet was dying. Spielberg’s film seems determined to kinda-sorta keep true to the novel, except that the aliens appear to have planned this countless years ago, which makes it seem less likely. But again, why risk invading an already inhabited planet? Some stories have emphasized that the aliens were doing their equivalent of terraforming (this is implied in War of the Worlds when Ray looks out over a bizarrely changed landscape filled with red weeds), which is a good idea, but it still doesn’t explain why Earth would be a target. From all appearances, there are plenty of empty planets out there…

So the concept itself is a bit tired to start with. Movies that aren’t explicit invasions involving a civilization like our own fare a little better. Alien & Aliens do a good job of this, as have several other films.

In any case, War of the Worlds is still a reasonably good watch, so long as you don’t mind the lack of scientific rigor. It’s a visually impressive film, with a number of sequences that stand out. And he really doesn’t give you all that much time to think about all the flaws…

Veg Out

1 Comment / Culture, Movies, Neal Stephenson / /

Neal Stephenson’s take on Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith in the New York times is interesting on a few levels. He makes some common observations, such as the prevalence of geeky details in supplementary material of the Star Wars universe (such as the Clone Wars cartoons or books), but the real gem is his explanation for why the geeky stuff is mostly absent from the film:

Modern English has given us two terms we need to explain this phenomenon: “geeking out” and “vegging out.” To geek out on something means to immerse yourself in its details to an extent that is distinctly abnormal – and to have a good time doing it. To veg out, by contrast, means to enter a passive state and allow sounds and images to wash over you without troubling yourself too much about what it all means.

Stephenson says the original Star Wars is a mixture of veg and geek scenes, while the new movies are almost all veg out material. The passive vegging out he describes is exactly how I think of the prequels (except that Episode III seems to have a couple of non-veg out scenes, which is one of the reasons I think it fares better than the other prequels). He also makes a nice comparison to the business world, but then takes a sudden sort of indirect dive towards outsourcing and pessimism at the end of the article, making a vague reference to going “the way of the old Republic.”

I’m not sure I agree with those last few paragraphs. I see the point, but it’s presented as a given. Many have noted Stephenson could use a good editor for his recent novels, and it looks to me like Stephenson was either intentionally trying to keep it short (it’s only two pages – not what you’d expect from someone who routinely writes 900 page books, including three that are essentially a single 2700 page novel) or his article was edited down to fit somewhere. In either case, I’m sure he could have expounded upon those last paragraphs to the tune of a few thousand words, but that’s what I like about the guy. Not that the article is bad, but I prefer Stephenson’s longwinded style. Ironically, Stephenson has left the details out of his article; it reads more like a power-point presentation that summarizes the bullet points of his argument than the sort of in-depth analysis I’m used to from Stephenson. As such, I’m sure there are a lot of people who would take issue with some of his premises. Perhaps it’s an intentional irony, or (more likely) I’m reading too much into it.

Turning to the Dark Side

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It’s difficult to describe the feelings the original Star Wars trilogy stirred in me as a child (though I suspect many of my generation are familiar with those feelings). When I watch them again, even today, I still get that feeling. I think at least part of it was that I didn’t fully understand the story as a child. It was a visceral story, so on a raw emotional level, I got it, even if I wasn’t able to articulate an intellectual response. As I’ve grown older, repeated watchings have only increased my appreciation.

Warning! Spoilers Ahead…

One thing I’ve felt has always been particularly effective was how the films treated the Force. The Force consists of two opposing sides, a Dark Side and a Light Side. Neither side is made up of specific “abilities” of the Force – it is the way in which these abilities are used that is important. Acting on positive emotions like love, compassion, and courage is the path of the Light Side, while fear, attachment, and hatred are the way of the Dark Side. Practitioners of the Light Side suppress their negative emotions while nurturing their positive emotions to help others. Devotees to the Dark Side use their negative emotions to fuel their selfish power and are thus able to increase their outward strength and abilities. As a result, the Dark Side of the Force is extremely seductive. Each time one calls on the power of the Dark Side, they become more attached to it. It becomes an addiction which feeds upon itself.

This process of turning to the Dark Side was handled exceptionally well in the original trilogy. The entire Star Wars story centers around two people: Darth Vader, who has turned to the Dark Side, never to look back, and Luke Skywalker, who has only begun his journey, his fate uncertain. Knowing Luke’s sensitive state, Vader attempts to seduce Luke to the Dark Side, and for a time, he is successful. Despite Obi Wan and Yoda’s teachings, Luke failed at the cave on Dagobah and when he sees that his friends are in danger, he rushes off to confront Vader, where he fails again. Luke was acting on his attachment to his friends, and his hatred for Vader. In the end, Luke was able to see the error in his ways and he eventually succeeded because of the love and trust he gave his father, redeeming him and saving them both from the Emperor.

So the original trilogy told the tale of a young Jedi who was tempted by the Dark Side, but persevered because of his devotion to the Light Side. The prequels tell the story of Anakin Skywalker, a young Jedi who was tempted and ultimately seduced by the Dark Side. Judging from the response to Episode III, it seems that the way Anakin’s turn is portrayed is the most frequently cited problem with the film. And I have to admit, there is some truth to that.

First, when Lucas introduced the concept of Midichlorians, he completely demystified the Force. Part of the reason the Dark side was so scary in the original films was that one wrong turn could inexorably lead you down the path to the Dark side. It was a vaguely mysterious process, and not knowing exactly how the Force worked only served to make it more effective. Second, the first two prequels were pretty much a waste. One of my initial thoughts upon seeing Episode III was that it made the first two prequels better. But it really shouldn’t be that way. The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones should have made Revenge of the Sith better, not the other way around.

To me, all the pieces were there, they just weren’t integrated all that well. In Episode I, we see hints of Anakin’s fear and anger, and in Episode II, we see some of that bloom into what I consider to be the beginning of Anakin’s descent to the Dark side. When his mother dies and he slaughters that camp of sand people, he began on the path to the Dark side. At that point, he hadn’t gone very far (just as Luke’s failures in Empire didn’t turn him completely), but it was a start. Yet very little is made of this in the films. In the opening of Episode III, Anakin strikes down a defenseless Count Dooku at the behest of Palpatine. I would have thought that was another big step in the wrong direction, but nothing much is made of it in the movie either. Instead, the film relies upon vague (but reasonably well done) political intrigue and the impending death of Padme as the only real motivators to turn to the Dark side. Furthermore, they’re both shown as occurring in parallel. One didn’t really build off the other, as you would expect in a turning to the Dark side process. Both are good reasons, to be sure, but when the time came and Anakin made his decision, it came off as muddled, especially given the near immediate reversal in direction that the scene implies. The fact that I described it as a “decision” should set off alarms here – turning to the Dark side isn’t a decision, it’s a process. A mystical, seductive process that doesn’t just happen the way it did in the film.

There’s a lot more too Anakin’s turn to the Dark side, and one could argue that all sorts of things shown in the prequels contributed, but Lucas doesn’t tie any of it together in an especially convincing way. I’ve always thought of turning to the Dark side as being a long process, starting with small, seemingly innocuous events, but eventually snowballing into an unstoppable downward spiral.

All of that said, I still enjoyed Revenge of the Sith, perhaps a bit more than it really deserves. In the end, it’s a Star Wars film, and as such, it pulls from a rather large reservoir of movie-going goodwill. The test of time will most likely relegate the prequels to a supporting role in the Star Wars pantheon. The original trilogy still stands as a brilliant piece of work, and while it’s a shame the prequels didn’t quite live up to that standard, it’s hard to believe that anything really could…

Note: I’ll be travelling this weekend, so no new entry on Sunday.

Sharks, Deer, and Risk

Best Entries, Culture, Movies, Politics, Security & Intelligence / /

Here’s a question: Which animal poses the greater risk to the average person, a deer or a shark?

Most people’s initial reaction (mine included) to that question is to answer that the shark is the more dangerous animal. Statistically speaking, the average American is much more likely to be killed by deer (due to collisions with vehicles) than by a shark attack. Truly accurate statistics for deer collisions don’t exist, but estimates place the number of accidents in the hundreds of thousands. Millions of dollars worth of damage are caused by deer accidents, as are thousands of injuries and hundreds of deaths, every year.

Shark attacks, on the other hand, are much less frequent. Each year, approximately 50 to 100 shark attacks are reported. “World-wide, over the past decade, there have been an average of 8 shark attack fatalities per year.”

It seems clear that deer actually pose a greater risk to the average person than sharks. So why do people think the reverse is true? There are a number of reasons, among them the fact that deer don’t intentionally cause death and destruction (not that we know of anyway) and they are also usually harmed or killed in the process, while sharks directly attack their victims in a seemingly malicious manner (though I don’t believe sharks to be malicious either).

I’ve been reading Bruce Schneier’s book, Beyond Fear, recently. It’s excellent, and at one point he draws a distinction between what security professionals refer to as “threats” and “risks.”

A threat is a potential way an attacker can attack a system. Car burglary, car theft, and carjacking are all threats … When security professionals talk abour risk, they take into consideration both the likelihood of the threat and the seriousness of a successful attack. In the U.S., car theft is a more serious risk than carjacking because it is much more likely to occur.

Everyone makes risk assessments every day, but most everyone also has different tolerances for risk. It’s essentially a subjective decision, and it turns out that most of us rely on imperfect heuristics and inductive reasoning when it comes to these sorts of decisions (because it’s not like we have the statistics handy). Most of the time, these heuristics serve us well (and it’s a good thing too), but what this really ends up meaning is that when people make a risk assessment, they’re basing their decision on a perceived risk, not the actual risk.

Schneier includes a few interesting theories about why people’s perceptions get skewed, including this:

Modern mass media, specifically movies and TV news, has degraded our sense of natural risk. We learn about risks, or we think we are learning, not by directly experiencing the world around us and by seeing what happens to others, but increasingly by getting our view of things through the distorted lens of the media. Our experience is distilled for us, and it’s a skewed sample that plays havoc with our perceptions. Kids try stunts they’ve seen performed by professional stuntmen on TV, never recognizing the precautions the pros take. The five o’clock news doesn’t truly reflect the world we live in — only a very few small and special parts of it.

Slices of life with immediate visual impact get magnified; those with no visual component, or that can’t be immediately and viscerally comprehended, get downplayed. Rarities and anomalies, like terrorism, are endlessly discussed and debated, while common risks like heart disease, lung cancer, diabetes, and suicide are minimized.

When I first considered the Deer/Shark dilemma, my immediate thoughts turned to film. This may be a reflection on how much movies play a part in my life, but I suspect some others would also immediately think of Bambi, with it’s cuddly cute and innocent deer, and Jaws, with it’s maniacal great white shark. Indeed, Fritz Schranck once wrote about these “rats with antlers” (as some folks refer to deer) and how “Disney’s ability to make certain animals look just too cute to kill” has deterred many people from hunting and eating deer. When you look at the deer collision statistics, what you see is that what Disney has really done is to endanger us all!

Given the above, one might be tempted to pursue some form of censorship to keep the media from degrading our ability to determine risk. However, I would argue that this is wrong. Freedom of speech is ultimately a security measure, and if we’re to consider abridging that freedom, we must also seriously consider the risks of that action. We might be able to slightly improve our risk decisionmaking with censorship, but at what cost?

Schneier himself recently wrote about this subject on his blog. In response to an article which argues that suicide bombings in Iraq shouldn’t be reported (because it scares people and it serves the terrorists’ ends). It turns out, there are a lot of reasons why the media’s focus on horrific events in Iraq cause problems, but almost any way you slice it, it’s still wrong to censor the news:

It’s wrong because the danger of not reporting terrorist attacks is greater than the risk of continuing to report them. Freedom of the press is a security measure. The only tool we have to keep government honest is public disclosure. Once we start hiding pieces of reality from the public — either through legal censorship or self-imposed “restraint” — we end up with a government that acts based on secrets. We end up with some sort of system that decides what the public should or should not know.

Like all of security, this comes down to a basic tradeoff. As I’m fond of saying, human beings don’t so much solve problems as they do trade one set of problems for another (in the hopes that the new problems are preferable the old). Risk can be difficult to determine, and the media’s sensationalism doesn’t help, but censorship isn’t a realistic solution to that problem because it introduces problems of its own (and those new problems are worse than the one we’re trying to solve in the first place). Plus, both Jaws and Bambi really are great movies!

Waffles, because they are more evil.

Movies / /

The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster : This has been around a while, but Darth Vader’s blog is surprisingly good. You’d expect such a venture to go for cheap laughs (a la the very secret diaries of LOTR characters), but the Canadian author, Matthew Frederick Davis Hemming, really does a good job capturing the life of Vader, including some banal observations (it seems the circuitry controlling his left leg is on the fritz), occasionally throwing out poignant references to her or his son, and even showing a bit of introspection. Of course, there’s a lot of humor too, but he avoids the real groaners. For example, many a mention of Lando Calrissian, but not a single reference to Colt 45. That’s class, right there.

The blog seems to be covering the events immediately preceding and during The Empire Strikes Back. I think it works better if you read from the beginning. One of my favorite things about the blog is the elevation of Imperial Officers (like Admiral Ozzel, Captain Piet, General Veers, and the like) from bit parts to genuine supporting roles. Here’s a nice comment about Stormtroopers’ uniforms:

I must say that the stormtroopers’ new heavy weather gear makes them look very cool. Hats off to Palpatine. (Most people don’t know this but His Excellency designs all of our outerwear personally; he has a real flair for geometry, and a great sense of line.)

And Lord Vader also replies to some of the comments (the title of this post being in response to that age-old question: “Do you prefer waffles or pancakes?”). I’m not sure, but I think it’s possible some of the commenters (boba fett?) are also being written as part of the “story.” So if you’re a fan, check out the blog. With post titles like “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” “Calgon, Take Me Away,” and “I Am Surrounded By Idiots,” it’s not to be missed. [via Slashdot] And just for fun, here’s the note Vader sent to Ozzel’s kin after Ozzel’s untimely death:

Dear House of Ozzel,

I regret to inform you that your son has been killed in the line of duty.

He was an incompetent, yammering boob and he will be missed by none. I have allowed the men to pillage his personal belongings, which is why we have enclosed nothing but the sole remaining item: a torn advertisements page from a magazine of midget pornography. May it shock and disturb you, and may you think of it always when you remember your dearly departed son, the ninny.

Know also that his limitations as a sub-par military professional caused the deaths of many of the Emperor’s loyal soldiers, whose funeral expenses will appear on your next tax assessment.

Sincerely,

D. Vader

Heh

Time Travel in Donnie Darko

6 Comments / Best Entries, Movies / /

By popular request, here is a brief analysis of time travel used in the movie Donnie Darko. As I’ve mentioned before, Donnie Darko is an enigmatic film and I’m not sure it makes total sense. At a very high level everything seems to fit, but when you start to drill down into the details things become less clear.

In the commentary track of the Directors Cut DVD, writer/director Richard Kelly attempts to clarify some of the more mystifying aspects of the film, but he still leaves a lot of wiggle room and ambiguity. He describes the time travel in the film as being driven by a “comic book logic,” which should give you an idea of just how scientifically rigorous the subject is treated in the film (i.e. not very). Time travel is essentially a deus ex machina; it drives the story, but its internal mechanics are unimportant. So this analysis isn’t really intended to be very rigorous either, just a few thoughts and attempts to clarify or at least call out some of the more confusing concepts.

Before I really get into it, I suppose I should mention that what follows contains many SPOILERS, so read on at your own risk. Another thing that might be useful is to go over other less than rigorous time travel theories that have been presented in film and literature. This list isn’t meant to be complete, but these four theories will help in dissecting Donnie Darko. Again, many SPOILERS, especially in the case of lightning (as I’m assuming most people haven’t read it).

  • The Terminator: The main timeline is set, and traveling back in time cannot change anything. Indeed, traveling back in time to change the present will sometimes cause the very thing you’re trying to avoid, as happens in The Terminator (for obvious dramatic reasons). This is among the more plausible time travel theories, as it avoids those messy paradoxes. As such, it is one of the more popular theories, used in many other stories (like 12 Monkeys and, funnily enough, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure). A more pretentious name for this is Circular Causation, but I think The Terminator gets the point across…
  • Back to the Future: There are, I suppose, many ways to interpret time travel in this movie, but in this theory, there is still only one timeline, but you can change the past (and thus the present). In this theory, it’s possible to go back in time and kill your father (before he had you), and in such a case you will “disappear.” This is also a common theory, but the presence of paradox makes it less plausible. There are probably ways to explain this theory in terms of alternate universes (multiple timelines) as well…
  • The End of Eternity: In Isaac Asimov’s novel, a group of people known as Eternals develop time travel and decided to improve upon history by introducing carefully calculated changes in the timeline. There is more to it than that, but the concept of a society using time travel to manipulate history is an important concept that is relevant to DD.
  • Lightning: In Dean Koontz’s novel, time travel is only allowed in one direction: to the future. This takes care of the “kill your father” paradox rather neatly. You can, however, change the future. There is a catch though, which is probably more for dramatic effect, but which bears importance in the Donnie Darko discussion – essentially, fate doesn’t like it when you attempt to change something in the future: “Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be.” Not particularly scientific, but interesting and again, relevant to DD.

Donnie Darko sort of contains elements of all four, and since it includes the Back to the Future theory, it also sort of includes a paradox. To start, here is a diagram that will help visualize the time travel present in the film:

Donnie Darko Timeline

It’s not really to scale, but you get the point. Basically, the main timeline is displayed in the line segment AD (and it is a thicker line, as it is the timeline that is meant to be). BC (the black line) represents the tangent universe, a sort of alternate timeline, and this is where the majority of the film takes place. CB (the grey line) represents the time travel in the film. More details listed below:

  • AB – Point A is the start of the film, and the segment AB takes place before the tangent universe begins.
  • BC – Point B is the point at which an airplane engine lands on Donnie Darko’s house. It is also the point at which the tangent universe begins. It is unclear as to why or how the tangent universe begins, but in the main timeline Donnie is killed, while in the tangent universe, Donnie is sort of called out of his room by a mysterious force and thus is not killed by the engine. As the movie goes, shortly after point C, the entire universe (I assume this includes the main timeline as well) is destroyed. This implies that tangent universes must be resolved and cannot be allowed to continue. The film references a fictional book which describes the tangent universe thusly:

    If a Tangent Universe occurs, it will be highly unstable, sustaining itself for no longer than several weeks.

    Eventually it will collapse upon itself, forming a black hole within the Primary Universe capable of destroying all existence.

    This particular information is referenced in the Directors Cut, but not in the theatrical cut.

  • CB – This segment is represented by the grey line between points C and B. At point C, a jet engine falls off an aircraft and travels back in time, hitting Donnie’s house at point B. I assume that this event is what causes the tangent universe to form in the first place, which is paradoxical – how can the tangent universe exist when it is caused by itself?
  • BD – The period immediately following point B is shown in the film, but the rest of the segment is not. It is unclear whether or not the jet engine falls off the plane at point D (which parallels point C) or not. I get the impression that it doesn’t, but if it did, it might help resolve the paradox shown in CB.

Even after all this, there are still many, many, many questions to be answered. There are a few other things we need to establish first.

First, does Donnie have some sort of superpower? Donnie is obviously different from other people. The film doesn’t show any sort of explicit references to his powers, but it is sort of implied by his visits to a psychiatrist and his visions. I suppose the water trails he sees (which show the future path of a person, sometimes including himself) could be an expression of his abilities (as it allows him to see into the future). It’s clear that Donnie made a decision near the end of the movie that he was going to “fix” the universe and allow himself to be killed by the jet engine, but it’s not clear how that happens. Does Donnie actually cause that to happen, or is he just aware of it happening and going along for the ride? There is a sort of messianic theme in the movie, so I’m assuming that Donnie has some sort of power to send himself and/or the jet engine back in time and link the two universes together (and to collapse the tangent universe without destroying all of existence).

Richard Kelly, in explaining his take on the story, indicated that he wanted to communicate that there was some sort of technology at work in the tangent universe, manipulating everyone’s actions, and attempting to set things right. It is unclear what exactly this technology is, how it works, or who is using it, but his point is that someone is orchestrating events in the tangent universe so as to fix the universe (or to allow Donnie the opportunity to fix things). When he mentioned this concept, I immediately thought of Asimov’s Eternals, people who manipulated time and history for the betterment of mankind. In Donnie Darko, perhaps there exists a similar group of people who are tasked with ensuring that tangent universes are closed. Or perhaps, Donnie himself is subconsciously manipulating events to help fix things.

I also thought of Koontz’s Lighting and that infamous line “Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be.” In that scenario, there isn’t really a technology at work, just fate, perhaps augmented by Donnie’s supernatural abilities. Indeed, it could be some sort of combination of these three explanations: Donnie Darko has powers which are augmented by some sort of technology and fate.

What is Frank (the demonic looking bunny), and what role does he play in the story? This is very unclear. He may be a ghost, he may be the result of Donnie’s unconscious awareness of the future, or he may be a projection from the technological puppet-masters.

There are obviously a number of other explanations. What if the timeline actually follows a linear path (i.e. the linear presentation in the movie)? In that scenario, the timeline would go from A to B to C to D, except that B and D are essentially the same point in time (perhaps the main timeline stopped while the tangent universe worked itself out). So the time travel line would occur between CD.

And of course, this doesn’t really take into account all the themes of the film. I suppose I should also note that I’ve been analyzing the Directors Cut, which references a lot more of the fictional book, The Philosophy Of Time Travel by Roberta Sparrow (a character in the film). The Directors Cut gives more information on the guiding forces in the story, and it gives a more sci-fi bend than the theatrical cut, but both cuts are sufficiently ambiguous as to allow multiple interpretations, many of which end up being pretty silly when you drill down into the details, and some don’t make much sense, but in the end that doesn’t really matter all that much because you have to figure it out for yourself…

Piecing it together for yourself

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The Donnie Darko Directors Cut was recently released on DVD. I’d seen the enigmatic movie before, and though I enjoyed it and would have welcomed watching it again, it’s probably not something I normally would have purchased if it wasn’t for the fact that this new DVD has a commentary track with Richard Kelly (the film’s writer and director) and Kevin Smith (director of Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, etc… who had absolutely nothing to do with the making of Donnie Darko). Kevin Smith is a funny and knowledgeable guy, and the commentary tracks on most of his movies are great fun and fantastic examples of the oft-maligned DVD commentary genre. The involvement of Smith piqued my interest, so I picked it up. After watching pretty much the entire DVD (including the extras and the commentary), I’d say it was worth the purchase.

The director’s cut of the film has an additional 20 minutes which seem to clarify some of the more mystifying aspects of the film. When combined with the commentary track, where Kelly expounds on why he did what he did when making the film, you get a really good idea of where he’s coming from and what he was getting at. There is still wiggle room and ambiguity, of course, and Smith plays the perfect foil to Kelly’s sometimes extravagant overzealousness. Smith doesn’t hesitate to point out that he doesn’t like one theoretical interpretation or another, and it makes for a compelling dynamic.

One of the things that occurred to me is that Kelly’s helf-explainations (as I said, he still leaves it somewhat ambigious and open to interpretation) are somewhat silly. Perhaps silly is the wrong word to describe it, but that’s sort of how it feels. And it’s not just his interpretation either. Most of the stuff I come up with, when I lay it all out and try to make sense of it, feels very simplistic and sort of silly. To be sure, I’m not sure I can make perfect sense out of the story without leaving gaping holes in the plot (which is, I guess, the point).

The movie works because you have to do all the work to get there. You have to collect all the pieces of the puzzle and put it together for yourself, and doing so can be quite enjoyable (if a little maddening, as the pieces don’t seem to fit!) In a sense, Kelly got away with telling a time travel story that was not very reliant upon any sort of guiding principles (at least, not from the viewer’s perspective – it’s clear that Kelly himself had thought very deeply about what everything meant and how to portray it), whether they be from science or psychology or whatever. He was somehow able to design the movie to obscure the silliness of the time travel needed to tell the story (which doesn’t really center on time travel anyway).

Of course, this strategy doesn’t always work, and to be quite honest, I can’t pinpoint what it is about Donnie Darko that makes me enjoy it so much. A while ago I watched the cryptic, plodding pseudo-thriller Swimming Pool, and came away from the film feeling manipulated and disappointed. There was something similar going on with that film, but it didn’t work because I felt like the filmmakers were trying to trick me, especially with that ending. They basically tried to do something similar, but instead of obscuring the silliness, they just lied throughout the movie, then told the truth at the end. I was glad I watched it, but I had no desire to watch it again in the hopes of putting more pieces of the puzzle together (as I did with Donnie Darko).

In any case, Donnie Darko is ambitious, thought-provoking, and adventurous, if a little ambiguous, filmmaking at it’s best. The Director’s Cut DVD is worth watching, especially because of Kevin Smith’s presence on the commentary, but the theatrical cut is quite good as well.

The Return of Oscarblogging

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The Academy Awards will be starting in about 20 minutes or so. Last year, I made some picks and did some live-blogging, and I figure I might as well make that a tradition. Since I’m short on time (as I was last year), here are my picks:

  • Best Picture: This seems to be between Million Dollar Baby and The Aviator. Baby seems to have all the momentum tonight, so I’ll go with that one, but I wouldn’t be surprised if The Aviator or Ray took home the statue.
  • Best Director: I’m going with Martin Scorsese even though Clint Eastwood’s film has all the buzz. I’m betting on the sympathy vote here, as Scorsese is probably the best director without an Oscar, and I think the academy will give him the nod. Eastwood still has a chance of course, and I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if he wins…
  • Best Actor: I’m going to say Jamie Foxx for his role in Ray, though there is an outside chance that Depp will get the nod (again, due to sympathy vote, but it’s a longshot). Eastwood also has a chance, but I still think it’ll fall to Foxx. The only thing going against Foxx is that he’s been nominated in the Best Supporting Actor category as well (thus splitting his votes between the two categories), but I don’t think there’s any doubt as to which performance takes the cake.
  • Best Actress: Hilary Swank, though I suppose Annette Bening could give her a run for her money. Catalina Sandino Moreno gave a stunning performance, but she’s a real longshot.
  • Best Supporting Actor: Morgan Freeman. He’s never won an oscar and his film has all the buzz tonight. On the other hand, Thomas Haden Church may get the nod because Sideways seems like a popular feature and the Academy might not want to let that film go away empty-handed.
  • Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett seems to have all the buzz for this category.
  • Best Original Screenplay: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Charlie Kaufman has gained a lot of popularity since Being John Malkovich, so it’s natural that he’ll get the nod here.
  • Best Adapted Screenplay: Again, Million Dollar Baby has all the momentum going into the night, so I’ll go with that.
  • Editing: I’m going to go out on a limb and say Collateral, but I think it could easily go to The Aviator.
  • Cinematography: Give it to the The Aviator.
  • Visual Effects: Spider Man 2, because it was the best of the three
  • Best Animated Film: The Incredibles, hands down.
  • Best Documentary: Not sure, but I’ll go with Super Size Me because it seems to have been quite popular (which, of course, means very little).

This year is much more difficult to predict than last year. Million Dollar Baby seems to be the big movie this year, but it isn’t quite the lock that Lord of the Rings: Return of the King was last year. That’s it for now, updates to follow…

The Oscars definitely aren’t as popular as they once were, but I still find them interesting to watch. Their decline in popularity can be partly attributed to “awards fatigue,” as there are now numerous awards shows around this time of year. James Berardinelli (hrm, my picks are remarkably similar to his) thinks it has to do with predictability:

Pretentiousness is a flaw, but the real problem is predictability. Surprises are not welcome at the Oscars. Like a wedding, everything must move according to plan. Unlike a wedding, however, this is not a personal event. It’s an entertainment show, and it has become boring. Not only is it easy to guess most of the winners (especially the important ones), but even the occasional unexpected victory produces little more than a shrug. Speeches are cookie-cutter thank-yous that typically fall afoul of the two-minute (or however long it is) rule. A good speech – one that is short, pithy, and clearly written – is a rarity. And, for any celebrity who thinks this is an opportunity to declare a political position, get over yourself! No one is watching the Oscars to hear what you think of the war in Iraq. If you’re not going to say something intelligent and witty, say, “Thank you, Daddy and Mommy. Thank you, Mr. Director. And thank you, Academy,” then get the hell off the stage.

It should certainly be interesting to see if Chris Rock can liven things up a little bit. There are some other changes the Academy is making this year in an effort to get past the stigma that Berardinelli mentions, but they seem more calculated and could fall flat. It looks like the show is starting so hopefully I’ll be live-blogging for at least a little while…

Update: Liveblogging moved to extended entry. Click below to read on…

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Recent Viewings

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I’ve seen quite a few movies lately, so I figured I’d give some capsule reviews for the better ones…

  • The Fog of War (2003): Brilliant documentary chronicles the life of former Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara. The film starts with two seemingly innocuous clips of McNamara. In the first, he prepares for a press conference, and in the second, he is talking to an interviewer in what a behind the scenes sort of moment moment. In both clips, you get the impression that you’re seeing someone who is intent on controlling what is being revealed. And with the placement of those clips, you know that Errol Morris, the director, is also intent of controlling what you see by employing numerous stylish devices (Morris has mastered the Reflexive documentary techniques often discussed on this blog). The closeups of old documents, numbers, typewriters, slowly revolving tape recorders, etc… are well used and call attention to Morris as a filmmaker. The film takes us through eleven lessons from McNamara’s life, but what is more striking is the questions it brings up. They aren’t easy questions, and though McNamara has had to answer them during the course of his life, you aren’t required to come to the same conclusions. McNamara is often blamed for the debacle of Vietnam, but Morris doesn’t demonize the man (as perhaps, a lesser director would), though you’re able to do so if you like… If you see the movie, keep an open mind. It’s not what you’d expect. Four Stars (****)
  • The Polar Express (2004): A sweet little Christmas movie, and an effective one at that. As James notes, this movie shares more than a few similarities with The Wizard of Oz, both thematically and stylistically.

    As I was watching The Polar Express, I was reminded of The Wizard of Oz. The similarities are, at times, remarkable. The characters in this film are on a journey to a mythical place – not Oz, but the North Pole. And they’re following train tracks, not the yellow brick road. But the four companions are all searching for something intangible. Our hero, an unnamed boy, is on a quest for faith. His companions are seeking confidence, courage, and humility. The entire story may be the figment of the main character’s imagination. But at least there’s no Wicked Witch or a surrogate. The Polar Express is a tale with plenty of heart and no traditional villain.

    It’s also a little creepy, in a way that many children’s movies are… Good stuff. Three stars (***)

  • El Mariachi (1992): Robert Rodriguez’s $7,000 action flick about a traveling mariachi getting mixed up in a drug war. The film isn’t quite as interesting as the trivia surrounding it, but it is a reasonably good flick, and has held up to the test of time reasonably well (considering it’s humble beginnings). Two and a half stars (**1/2)
  • 21 Grams (2003): The story is somewhat mundane, but the film is elevated by exceptional performances from the three main leads and a jumpy non-linear presentation. The film demands your attention because of the erratic progression of the story, but the style ends up betraying the ending of the film. It ends with a touch of hope, but it doesn’t quite feel like it. It’s not a fun movie to watch because of the subject matter (almost unbearable), but it is very well done, from every aspect of the production. Three stars (***)
  • City of God (2002): This film tells the story of two boys growing up in a rough neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro. The narrator becomes a photographer, and the other becomes a drug dealer. The director, Fernando Meirelles, employs a stunningly effective style to tell the story and he somehow manages to infuse enough of a sense of humor in the film that you don’t despair, despite the brutally violent nature of the story (which is driven by the drug dealer’s rise and fall). The film is very violent, yet there is almost no bloodshed. Ironically, the ending of this film is much more bleak than 21 Grams, but it doesn’t feel that way (it’s still bleak, but it’s not unbearable). Three and a half stars (*** 1/2)