[Movie Reviews] – District 9

'District 9', directed by Neill Blomkamp and produced by Peter Jackson

I finally made it out to see District 9, which will probably be called the sleeper hit of this summer down the road when the DVD marketing begins. I’m certainly glad to see it doing well – I expected it to be a good film that no one saw, but fortunately, the marketing campaign for the film was really excellent, so awareness was high.

My friend Katie asked me to write up a review of the film, because she’s really eager to discuss it. After all, District 9 is a movie about ideas. It’s an allegory for apartheid and the formation of ghettos. It’s a movie that asks some serious questions by cloaking them in science fiction trappings. And there is plenty to talk about.

With that said, I need to divide this review into two sections: a review of the film as allegory, and a review of the film as science fiction. District 9 is a film that tries to ride two horses at once, and while I believe it is ultimately successful as a film and deserving of the positive criticism it has received, I also think that it is much more about the adrenaline rush than it is about telling a well-crafted story.

The Basic Plot (without any major spoilers)

The premise of District 9 is pretty simple: an alien spaceship comes to a stop over the city of Johannesburg in South Africa in the 1980s. Humans gain entry into the ship and find the aliens inside in deplorable conditions, malnourished and wallowing in excrement. The aliens are taken down to a temporary holding area called “District 9,” and brought back to health.

More than twenty years later, the aliens are still living in District 9, and it’s become a deplorable slum full of shanties built out of refuse. The aliens do not assimilate well with the humans, and are nicknamed “prawns” – a derogatory term meant to compare them to bottom-feeders. Banned from most public places, the aliens are forced to rely on an organization called the MNU for assistance… or to buy things from the Nigerian underworld.

Since the aliens have a particular taste for cat food that borders on addiction, they are able to be manipulated into giving away most of their weapons and technology. The aliens see this as a useful trade, because their weapons can’t be used by the humans. The humans, in the meantime, grow obsessed with finding ways to graft alien biology onto human hosts so they can put the technology to use.

The film centers around a man named Wikus van de Merwe who is put in charge of relocating the aliens to District 10 – an area outside of civilization where tents have been set up, not unlike a concentration camp. Wikus is not compassionate, is extremely self-centered and foolish. Apparently, his last name is a symbol of his stupidity; in South Africa, “van de Merwe” jokes revolve around a character who always does dumb things or who has bad things happen to him. There’s more than a little cultural reference in this film that requires knowledge of South African history to fully appreciate.

Wikus crosses path with an alien who seems a little smarter than the others who is officially named “Christopher Johnson” by the MNU. Christopher and his son have been gathering a strange liquid from discarded alien devices, and just as they find enough to achieve some unspoken goal, Wikus strides in, fiddles with the device, and accidentally sprays himself in the face with it. The liquid has a profound effect on his biology, and he finds himself slowly becoming an alien over the next several days, starting with his hand. As events unfold, Wikus finds himself on the run from the MNU and growing more sympathetic to the aliens and helping Christopher get back to the mothership hanging above the city, though Wikus remains self-centered and stupid through most of the film.

From this point forward, I’m going to discuss plot details of the film that will enter into the realm of spoiler territory. So, if you haven’t seen the film, go see it, and then come back to read the rest.

District 9 as Allegory

I would argue that District 9’s primary purpose is to serve as an allegory for human relations. Even though it’s cloaked in sci-fi, District 9 is really a story about how people treat other people who are different. It takes place in Johannesburg, a place where apartheid happened in a very similar fashion to what’s depicted here in the film. There is some irony that both white and black people are united against the aliens in this story, neither seeing any parallels to their own history.

The aliens are difficult for the humans to sympathize with, because the humans are focused on the aliens’ appearance and customs, and not on the point that the aliens and humans have in common. Humans don’t feel bad about discriminating against the aliens; in fact, many seem to view them as lower life forms, despite their advanced technology. The aliens are not actually that different from the humans in terms of their basic needs and desires, but they are different enough that they can be discriminated against without fear.

The aliens also represent a group of people who were once powerful, but who have been made powerless by becoming reliant on modern society. Aliens who become violent or who refuse to follow the rules are shot and killed without question. Sometimes, they’re shot out of fear. Sometimes, they’re shot out of sheer cruelty.

Christopher Johnson seems to be a leader of the group, and he’s the alien who can pilot the control pod for the mothership, though this does not become clear until later on in the film. His given name is very important – in literature, it’s common for messianic characters to have the initials “J” and “C.” Christopher Johnson is not a dead ringer for Jesus Christ, but he does depart so he can return as the savior of his people, and the question of his judgment of the humans is left unresolved at the end. I’d be willing to guess a lot of people missed this point, but it’s very important in understanding the message of the film.

Wikus represents humanity itself, and his progression from being human to alien-human hybrid to entirely alien is meant to show that the only way we can truly become compassionate of those we oppress is to be like them. Even in his hybrid state, Wikus makes decisions that result in hurting those he’s trying to help. Even at the end of the film, Wikus longs to be human again so he can return to his wife and his comfortable life. He is a tragic figure in that he never seems to learn anything; he is forced to learn based on circumstance, not growth. As such, Wikus is a troubling character, because he represents a cynical view of humanity. To call him the film’s hero would be far too charitable; even in his semi-heroic actions towards the end, Wikus is not trying to defend an oppressed people, but resigning himself to the fact that his only chance to being made human again rests in the hands of Christopher Johnson.

And so, we get to the message of the film, which is very simple: “We despise that which is different from us, and we can only outgrow our disgust by becoming like that which we dislike.” I’d say that’s a fairly bleak, yet insightful, view of humanity. The idea that an alien might live among us, leave us, and return in judgment simply reinforces this concept; “So be good to each other, or else.”

District 9 as Science Fiction

District 9 is not nearly as strong of a science fiction film as it is an allegory. The problem is that this is not a story; it’s a conceit. Science fiction has always been plagued by conceits, and they tend to result in weak storytelling. A good example of a conceit would be a story where a character does some odd things and sees the world in an odd way, and the story ends with, “because, you see, I was the dog!”. That’s a conceit.

District 9 is similarly a conceit. The idea is, “let’s take apartheid and do it with aliens.” There’s no rhyme or reason to this, and the explanations given in the film are pretty filmsy. Aliens would be a curiosity to people on Earth; they would be welcomed to other places and given special treatment. If aliens had advanced technology only they could use, they would be compensated with food or water or whatever they needed in exchange for using it. I seriously doubt defense contractors would spend so much time and effort oppressing aliens when they could be hiring them as mercenaries.

No, the film forces the idea of the “loathsome alien” into the plot so that the story can happen. The humans don’t like the aliens, but there are few explanations why. The aliens don’t want to leave Johannesburg, despite their conditions, but again, there’s no explanation why. The aliens understand human English perfectly, and even pick up on idioms and figures of speech. The humans similarly understand the aliens. In the real world, humans often can’t even understand each other when speaking different languages. None of this is remotely logical, and again, there’s no explanation why.

The aliens have advanced technology, and they’re quite capable of annihilating the humans. Instead, they foolishly sell their weapons off for cat food (which is the equivalent of drugs to them). The aliens are quite strong, and capable of killing humans with a single blow. And yet they let themselves get pushed around by a handful of Nigerians armed with guns. The aliens aren’t afraid of humans – look how many get killed in the first half hour of the film doing stupid, aggressive things! The film never really develops the reasons why the aliens are so compliant, nor does it make any logical sense for them to behave the way they do.

There are many other nagging details as well. Why does alien ship fuel turn humans into aliens? Why haven’t other humans, who have surely studied the stuff, noticed the change? Why do the aliens behave so much like humans, erecting shanties and filling their homes with trash? Why don’t the aliens seem to have a culture of their own, or a religion, or a reverence for their own technology? Why aren’t some of the aliens rising up as community representatives to work with the MNU? Why don’t other nations of the world intervene to offer the aliens a nicer place to live? Why in the world are aliens having sex with human prostitutes? (This seemed like one of the most gratuitous details in the film to me.)

As science fiction, the film never answers these questions – and perhaps can’t answer these questions. It’s a testament to how well-made the film is that you don’t ask them while it’s running. I didn’t start thinking about them until a few hours later. But these questions are troubling, and no amount of apologizing by the fans is going to resolve them. The problem is that the story is meant to be an allegory, not a true work of science fiction, and the sci-fi elements included are a conceit as a result.

If ever a film required another hour on an extended DVD to fill in the plot holes, District 9 is it.

Conclusion

I liked District 9, and I think it’s a worthwhile film. It’s got some depth, and it makes use of aliens to look at race relations in a new way. It’s certainly worth checking out at some point, though I am not sure I’d argue that it’s imperative to see it in the theater.

But would I say it’s a new direction for science fiction? Honestly, no. Science fiction has always been about exploring social issues through unusual means, but in order for it to rise about the level of allegory, it’s got to offer enough explanation that it doesn’t leave the audience wondering at all the loose threads. District 9 appears to be hard sci-fi at first glance, but it’s as soft as Star Wars in the end. And that’s fine, really, because Star Wars is a great film that is also built around a conceit – the idea of presenting a modern myth with sci-fi trappings. But I hope that District 9, like Star Wars and The Matrix and other films before it, does more to influence the visual style of science fiction storytelling and not the story style.

[Sound Off] Why Dumb Works

'G.I. JOE: The Rise of Cobra', directed by Stephen Sommers

I have a number of friends, both online and in local circles, who have said they’re going to see G.I. JOE: The Rise of Cobra this weekend. I don’t think any of them expects the film to be good. Quite the contrary — they expect it to be a big, dumb movie with characters inspired by action figures and stuff blowing up left and right. They’re OK with it being otherwise insipid. At the same time, I have few friends who want to go see the sci-fi think piece District 9 with me next week. It looks like too much thinking, I suppose. As one friend put it, “Summer movies are about turning off your brain for two hours and watching the fireworks.”

As a creative person, I used to get really upset and annoyed about how big, dumb action movies could do so well while legitimately good movies that actually had something to say could be missed by so much of the population. One classic example that should be familiar is The Shawshank Redemption, a movie that did terribly in the theaters, but which caught on when it reached the home video stage because word got out that it was actually good. Sadly, that doesn’t happen very often, and a lot of great films (and books, and video games, and various other forms of media) get ignored simply because they’re not big enough or dumb enough for the rest of the population.

Some might point to the arguments of the book The Long Tail and suggest that big, dumb films are designed for the masses, while good films are designed for a smaller niche of an audience. That argument sounds appealing, but I don’t think it’s the case. Art, even commercial art, tends to reflect the culture that it’s in. And in the case of big budget cinema, I’ve come to realize that the big, dumb movies (and other media) do well precisely because they’re big and dumb.

“Hold on… are you saying American audiences are dumb?” you might be asking.

That depends on how you define dumb. If you’re talking about dumb being a function of physical intelligence, then no. But if you’re talking about dumb being a function of willfull ignorance and a refusal to think beyond one’s basic desires and day-to-day activities, then yes. I think Americans are very dumb. More precisely, I think our media reflects how dumb we really are. And when I say “we”, I’m including myself, because I certainly don’t claim to be immune to this tendency myself… though I think I do get some credit for having avoided this summer’s blockbusters. (My low grad student income and the rising price of movies has something to do with that, too, incidentally.)

So, let’s go back to G.I. Joe. What’s the appeal? I’m going to argue that the audience knows, going in, that the film is not going to be intellectual or challenging to them in any way. They know it’s not going to change their lives, and that they’re going to talk with others about how bad the film was, not how good it was. They know they’re in for a special effects spectacle, not an involved piece of cinema. They know if they get up and go to the bathroom, they’re not going to miss anything big.

On the positive side, they’re going to have some social credibility for having seen the film. They’ll be able to say, “Yeah, I went and saw it, and it wasn’t as bad as I expected,” and others will listen. Some might have seen it themselves and will discuss it with them. There’s definitely some benefit there.

On the negative side, they’re going to be out the price of a movie and two hours of time. They might not be as entertained as they would be if they saw a film that was good and a spectacle (such as last summer’s Iron Man, the first two Terminator films, the first two Star Wars films, the first Die Hard and Predator films, the first two Spider-Man films, or the first two X-Men films), but they’re not going to feel like they missed out on anything. After all, even if the film was stupid, they got some value out of it.

Now, let’s consider a movie that’s slightly more cerebral, but still a blockbuster. I’m going to point to Pixar’s Up, which is a fantastic film and an artistic triumph from a critical perspective, but which I’ve heard several friends describe as boring. The only parts they really liked or remember were the scenes with the talking dogs. When I point out that Pixar managed to make a film where an old man’s memories were a character, where the kid is not smarter than the adult, where the theme is overcoming loneliness by making human connections, or where the adventure is about the growth of an old man so that he can be human again, they stare at me blankly. They tell me I read into things too much. Some tell me that animated films like Over the Hedge and Madagascar were more entertaining to them. (I found both to be stupid and preachy.)

On the other hand, last summer’s The Dark Knight Returns, a film I found rather bright but tedious, also got mixed reactions from some of my friends. Those who tend to stick to dumb movies were struck by how intelligent the plot was. Most thought it was one of the smartest movies they’d ever seen (though they couldn’t articulate to me why it was smart). A few were bewildered by it. My friends who tend to watch more intelligent films, on the other hand, tended to feel the way I did.  We didn’t think that the movie was bad per se… we just felt it wasn’t quite the think piece others made it out to be.

Mike Judge's 'Idiocracy' describes a future in which dumb is the status quo.

Reflecting on reactions to these films in light of my argument today, however, I’m starting to realize that this desire people have to be “entertained” without having to think too much is what is driving a lot of our media. We really don’t want to go to the movies, or flip on the TV, or load up a video game, or read a book and find ourselves having to think too hard.  We have this perception that we should only have to think when we’re really interested in something or being paid to do so. But when we engage art of any sort, we want to get it immediately. We don’t want to have to think about things, or digest them, or discuss them in terms of ourselves.

Now that I’ve realized this, though, the question for me, as a creative person, is what to do next. I’m not going to change the tastes of Americans, no matter how much I try. I’ll die a bitter, frustrated man if I attempt to do it. At the same time, I’m really not capable of creating dumb stuff on purpose. I can create dumb stuff by accident, no problem. But the sort of willful dumb that guys like Michael Bay and Stephen Sommers can put into their films… that I can’t do.

I don’t know. What do you guys think? Am I reading this wrong… or have I just found an explanation for why good movies shouldn’t expect to do well unless they are also based off a children’s toy and have a sufficient number of explosions and objectified women? Are we really that close to Idiocracy already?

A Winner is Me!

So, Boing Boing Gadgets recently held a “Gadget Fiction” contest where you were supposed to write a flash fiction story somehow pertaining to gadgets. Flash fiction is, for those who don’t know, generally around 1,000 words in length and designed to evoke a feeling rather than tell a complex story.

So, anyhow, I entered, and I won third place. For my efforts, I get a free copy of the game “Tetris Cube”! Plus, people who haven’t read my work before might see it and think better of me. That’s always a nice feeling.

I’m really stoked. Of course, I didn’t expect to win a thing — there were some really good writers competing. But it’s always nice to gain a little bit of recognition for doing something well!

Here’s a link to the story, as well as the others. Check it out!

[Sound Off] Why 3D Movies Are Limited

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

My wife and I went to see the new Harry Potter film last night. We’re a little late to the game, sure, but that’s because we waited for the IMAX version, which featured the film on a nice big screen with superior sound and rockin’ 3D!

…well, sort of. There’s a big difference between movie theater IMAX and the big, 4-story IMAX you might see at a tourist attraction. It’s still an impressive picture, but it’s not THAT much better than a digital theater. And the 3D? We were more impressed by the trailer for the 3D animated A Christmas Carol than we were with the measly 12 minutes of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince that were in 3D. Those minutes were at the beginning (one of the least impressive parts of the film) and didn’t work out so well.

Oddly enough, we’d gone with my mom the weekend before to see G-Force, a harmless family movie that plays out like someone took a generic spy movie script, tweaked the main characters to be guniea pigs, and cranked out a film. Say what you will about the plot, but the 3D was very nice, and very immersive. We also saw Pixar’s Up in 3D earlier this summer and were similarly impressed.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, was pretty dull in 3D. We got a few minutes of action at the beginning, but it was nothing special. We also got to see Harry sitting in a diner reading a newspaper and searching through an old house with his wand. Yawn. The scenes weren’t really made for 3D, so I won’t blame the filmmakers; it was just a gimmick to get people to check out the IMAX version. We were a lot more impressed with the IMAX 3D in the previous film, Hary Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which was at the end of the movie and which featured spells flying around and glass breaking. That made for some entertaining 3D action.

What this has helped me realize is that 3D filmmaking has some major limitations. You just can’t shoot a 3D film the same way you shoot an action film. Quick cuts, oblique angles, confusing rotations and other staples of action filmmaking are disorienting in 3D, and they actually remove the viewer from the immersive feeling of watching a film. You really have to focus on straightforward action, and you have to find ways to make things pop out at the audience and excite them a little bit. A film like G-Force, despite its faults, was well-made for 3D, because it had constant action, cartoonish characters, and interesting gadgets. Up really popped on the screen because it had a lot of depth in its animated world (the balloons carrying the house, for example, had a nice three-dimensionality about them due to their round shape), and its action was slow enough that you could be stunned by the big moments.

3D is the way a lot of big-budget films are going, but I have a feeling that until action filmmakers figure it out, it’s going to be used primarily for kid’s movies and animation. One reason for this is that it’s easier for the filmmakers to create these films in 3D (due to the complicated cameras that have to be used to film live-action shots in 3D). Another reason is that kids’ films don’t move as fast and aren’t trying to be as edgy and cool as the summer blockbusters are. They lend themselves better to 3D’s strengths.

Unfortunately, the techniques used for modern action films are designed to look good on a 2D screen, so I have a feeling a lot of these 3D films are going to lose their “oomph” when they’re being viewed as home videos. I wonder how long it’s going to take for 3D to be something you can easily watch at home? I give it 5 years.

Oh, and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince? I’m not going to waste my time giving it a review, so suffice it to say that I thought it was the weakest and least magical of the films so far. If I hadn’t read the book, I think I would have been pretty lost about the plot, and the film was so focused on teenage silliness that it really lost its ability to focus on the deeper, darker themes that showed up in the book. Granted, Rowling didn’t develop those themes very well either, but they were present, and the film really missed an opportunity to tell a compelling story. But let’s be honest — people don’t go to see the Harry Potter films for the story. They go to see the book acted out. I’m really dreading the seventh film, which is the first half of the worst book in the series. But, my wife’s a fan, so I’ll have to go.