I Don't Think Nikola Tesla Is A Good Role Model For Your Academic Career: Computer Chess (2013)

It is into a new year and I have just completed one of my many marathons that comprised the last year.  Some where a means to catch up with works in classic genres, while others were purely to cover cult cinema that I had sat aside.  Hell even one month was devoted entirely to watching as many films as possible, which in turn afforded me a chance to do some heavy duty research while also getting published in the process!  2013 was a great year for me and by extension a great year for movies.  The realization of this is occurring as I am now flailing about to catch up with a variety of release from last year that were either pushed aside for more explorations of classic cinema or became unwatchable when I was not afforded the chance to step away from school to catch a screening.  Fortunately, it is still quite sometime before Oscar and Awards season and I have a more focused chance to knock out a few of these films, although I was not planning on this endeavor leading to serious reworking of my top film list of the past year.  While Springbreakers is holding on strong at first, late entries by Nebraska nearly toppled it and the recent viewing of Computer Chess almost completely took the spot.  A film that is shot in the vein of mid-eighties nerd technology (i.e. Videtape) about the most seemingly underwhelming of subject matter, the layers of issues at play in Computer Chess are nothing short of enigmatic.  Tacking in both serious and comedic manners the questions of humanities place in a growing world of technology and artificial intelligence, Computer Chess plays out like a David Lynch inspired response to Primer one that is at once highly disconcerting and wildly entertaining.  I knew about fifteen minutes into the film that it would prove to be far less than normal indie experimental fare, but the turns it takes throughout particularly in the last fifteen or so minutes of the film are absolutely brilliant and worthwhile,  I only hope that the evocations to deeper inquiries that arise in this film can come to reflect a world of indie filmmaking that is in line with what has already been established her with Computer Chess and earlier in the work of Shane Carruth, whose own offering in 2013 was perhaps the most notably transcendental work of the year.  In which case Computer Chess becomes the most deconstructionist both in medium and message.

Computer Chess as its name eponymously suggests is about the playing of chess by a computer, often focusing on the challenges of a computer playing against a human.  Here, however, the narrative centers on an annual conference that includes the brightest minds in artificial intelligence and computing coming together to create their various machinery as a means to challenge other computer based chess programs.  The winner of the competition is awarded a sum of $75,000 dollars and is afforded the chance for their machine to play against the likes of Pat Henderson (Gerald Peary) a world renowned chess-master and the organizer of the event.  While the teams are represented by both school-based programs such as those at MIT, as well as by non-academic persons with interest in the subject, notably the socially awkward Michael Papageorge (Myles Paige), it is almost entirely focused on the occurrence of one teams computer as it appears to fall apart, working against itself in a way that is clearly not within the original intent of the program.  The team's leader Martin Beuscher (Wiley Wiggins) becomes a frantic mess, asking for passes and a chance to correct software malefactions, while his less talkative colleague Peter Bishton (Patrick Riester) works through the night testing issues with the hardware as well, even seeking out help late at night via test matches with other competitors in the competition.  When Peter and Martin's advisor emerges, things appear to be headed to a positive point, only to discover that much more has occurred with their chess program than could have initially been imagined, possibly extending to use by government figures for military tactics.  While almost entirely unaware of this reality, Peter wanders about the hotel looking for answers, eventually finding conflict when he stumbles into the space of a New Age self-help group that also appears to have a penchant for orgiastic behavior.   While the computer program continues to have problems, it is revealed in the closing portions of the film that it might well be an issue of artificial intelligence becoming too familiar with human replication and thus recreating it without permission a change that the film suggests might extend beyond a simple program to move pawns across a board.

This film is not your labyrinth film in a traditional sense, or perhaps it is, in that much like the other popular labyrinth film The Shining, the film does situate itself within a hotel, one whose rules and state of existence are quite illogical in the same was as The Overlook Hotel in Kubrick's film.  Here though the heady exploration of identity and replication both organically and mechanically takes on intense proportions, made all the more so by executing the narrative on a noticeably antiquated form of moving image capturing.  The medium is of particular note because it is the larger diegetic layer of display that helps manifest the labyrinth of Computer Chess into existence.  The fact that the narrative both philosophically and humorously navigates what it would mean for an artificial intelligence entity to become sentient enough to realize the difference between playing against another computer and a human is absolutely thought provoking, but tends to ask wherein lies the distinction, particularly in regards to a game like chess that is a series of strategic moves, the greats members of the game proving to play constantly, slowly becoming more sentient of the various possibilities which emerge in a game of heavy strategy.  It seems to be the lack of rhythm and repetition that causes a computer to distinguish itself from a more well-reasoned computer.  It comprehends hesitancy and lack of formality as human, which is juxtaposed quite brilliantly with the space being navigated by a group of people who break down things in a highly logical and factual manner.  Indeed, aside from the curiously intercut sequence of a group of the computer chess programers smoking pot while dancing around the subject of government involvement in artificial intelligence, the film wants viewers to be aware of the generally objective nature of the people in the tournament, making the emergence of paranormal and fantastical elements that much more bizarre, not because they happen, but because the characters seem so set on them happening within a logical framework, two in particular completely destroying any sense of human/technology divide in the process.  This film absolutely winds into dark corners of theoretically heavy discussions and comes out the other end all the more enigmatic, but no less enticing.

Key Scene:  Let's just say it involves an ultrasound.

This is on Netflix, you should set time aside accordingly.

Beau-ti-ful: Air Doll (2009)

Air Doll is a film destined to be something I thoroughly enjoy.  First, it was directed by Hirokazu Koreeda, whose film Still Walking received a more than favorable review and heavy admiration for its clear admiration for the late Ozu.  Secondly, the film focuses on issues of body and gender as it relates to East Asian cinema, a personal and well-vested research interest of mine.  Finally, if those two things were not enough, the film also includes the amazing Doona Bae, whose performance in Cloud Atlas was among one of the many enjoyable portions of the film.  Of course, a set of favorable things in my favor does not necessarily mean that it will equate to a good movie for other people every time, however, in the case of Air Doll, I think its cinematic leanings, Westernized cultural references and somewhat melodramatic soundtrack lend well to most film palettes, not to mention it involves artificial intelligence, allowing for even the most strict of sci-fi enthusiasts to find something to love in the film.  While the critics who claim the film to be a bit lengthy in its execution certainly have a right to do so, I cannot help but defend its drawn out nature as a necessity in regards to Koreeda's clear desire to promote the issues of human suffering and loneliness as realized through a being whose just come to terms with their own realization that they have emotions.  Hell, I would go so far as to describe Air Doll as a work influenced heavily by the ideas and writings of Albert Camus, although if said ideas were to be incorporated in to a Phillip K. Dick world.  Rarely do I ever possess a desire to go out of my way to read manga, although I probably should begin considering it since it does have ties to my research intestates, I really cannot deny my desire to read the graphic text on which Air Doll was based, because it is such a decidedly philosophical film that I cannot help but consider the ways in which the novel either intensifies or overlooks these reflections.  With is existential woes and considerable understanding of generational issues within contemporary Japanese culture, both in this film and Still Walking, I have began to actively seek out this directors other works as I can only hope they are filled with and equal degree of vigor and poetic earnestness.

Air Doll begins with the introduction of Hideo (Itsuji Itao) a middle-aged man working in a clearly draining and financially unrewarding job, taking solace only in his ability to come home and enjoy intercourse with a blow-up sex doll named Nozomi (Doona Bae), leaving the next day to return to his job of under-appreciation.  It is during his leave from the home that Nozomi begins to come to life as an almost spectral essence, one with a human form, but an opaque shadow.  Having only the realization that she has a heart, Nozomi attempts to navigate the world of urban Japan mimicking the actions of those she sees around her, whether it be an older woman bowing around various businesses or a girl singing a children's song.  Nozomi's curiosity with the world around her is so real and engaging that she actually finds herself successfully landing a job in a video rental store, all within the time frame of her owner being at work, thus being completely oblivious to her changed form.  As the days grow and Nozomi learns better how to navigate the world she is able to express emotions and intelligent conversations to the world around her, whether it be an old man reading poetry at a park bench, or with Junichi (Arata) whom she begins a relationship with, one which allows her to experience young love as well as continuing her curiosity with the world around her, taking particular notice of a young girl being sang "Happy Birthday."  Yet when she falls during work and accidentally punctures herself, it is revealed to Junichi that she is an air doll, something he reacts to by willingly filling her back up with air, in a noticeably sexual manner.  After this accident, Nozomi becomes considerably connected with the lonely individuals around urban Japan, sharing their sadness, as well as coming to terms with Hideo's own loneliness.  She eventually seeks to end her life by releasing her air, after talking with another woman and claiming that she did briefly find happiness in her moments of emotion.  Although it is implied that her sacrifice is witnessed by another woman who draws on its serenity to change their own life and seek out moments of beauty for herself.

Air Doll could be read as many things, an existential reflection on modernity and loneliness, a warning for our seeming willingness to attach emotional outpourings to artificial intelligence, or even a demand of its viewers to appreciate fleeting moments of beauty in a world of continued tragedy.  These are all very real themes within the film and certainly worth intense expansion, however, I cannot help but consider the feminist awakening considered within Koreeda's film, whether accidental or on purpose.  At the films onset, Nozomi is a body objectified, an issue faced by women for centuries, and still problematically confronted today, it is not until she realizes that she is capable of being a emotive and rational being that can seek her own desires that she comes to life.  This life could be read as a socio/political/economic awakening as a metaphor for women in contemporary East Asian cultures where they are still objectified within traditionalism.  As such, it is no accident that she seeks employment at a video store that draws heavily from Western culture, a means of inspiration on a very large level for non-Western feminist rhetoric, although they are beginning to create their own feminist voices and identities completely influenced by non-Western histories and philosophies.  Nonetheless, Nozomi's awakening allows her to move out of the domestic space and create her own sexuality, one that is awakened when she is "blown back up" by Junichi which could easily be read as Nozomi having her first orgasm and realizing that she too is capable of sexual gratification.  In regards to sexuality, it is no accident that the tube to represent Nozomi's vagina is constantly being cleaned both by herself and by Hideo, showing a far larger concern for the female sexual body than medicine tends to do so even in contemporary heath and body discourses.  Finally, her death at the end of the film suggests a feminist martyrdom, no different than Dreyer's Passion of Joan of Arc, one that pushes another woman to seek beauty outside of a domestic space, a veritable call to action which will hopefully open the eyes of a handful of other oppressed persons as well.

Key Scene:  There is a scene where humanized Nozomi is pretending to be a doll while Hideo lays beside her and watches TV, in which Doona Bae delivers the robotic movements of a doll, while also expressing a look of entrapment that is acting beyond perfection.

This pseudo-adaptation of The Little Mermaid is a must-own piece of cinema, and while it is a bit pricey the DVD transfer is gorgeous.