Tread Softly, Because You Tread On My Dreams: Equilibrium (2002)

As predicted, my involvement here on the blog is taking a step back as I am increasingly overwhelmed with my studies.  Indeed, I have even made the foolish choice of submitting to present at yet another conference with the blind hope that I will be accepted (it is in Montana!).  Yet, I am retaining some semblance of a film viewing regiment, although that is proving increasingly difficult.  The only things I seem to have time to watch at the moment are a deluge of wacky and delightful Godzilla movies for research and my obligatory #cyberpunksaturday viewing.  It is this recent viewing that I have come back with a blogging vengeance.  Equilibrium, which marketed itself as 2002's answer to The Matrix appears to have all but fallen to they wayside when it was faced up against the likes of the impressively epic Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (my favorite film of the year) and now established contemporary classics like Steven Spielberg's Catch Me If You Can.  In any other year, Equilibrium would have blown competition out of the water and much like Alex Proyas's Dark City, it has become a film that is adored in small circles and continually grows wider in its appreciation.  I am actually quite astonished that the mainstream filmgoer has not better latched onto this film, because frankly it has all the visual cues and elements to make it an ideal piece of popular cinema.  I cannot fathom how it did not fare better, aside from bad advertising or misinterpretation of its winding and precise plot, but it is absolutely worth even the most hardened of cinephiles time.  Both a visionary work in the realm of science fiction, as well as a love letter to its cyberpunk predecessors, Equilibrium does not ask to be viewed, but uses its hyper-sleek styling and techno-beat pacing to authoritatively demand that one watches it.  While it does not expressly set itself up as an adaptation of Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451, it does have all the signs and symbols of the dystopian masterpiece.  Here, however, the sense of disillusionment takes on a prescribed and potent level, no moment lacking from a perfect crafting.  Indeed, the comparisons to The Matrix are suitable, because in terms of world creating, Kurt Wimmer's film is almost on the level of The Wachowski's work.  It is a surprise, and admitted curiosity that this director also made Ultraviolet.  It is almost enough to make me watch that generally reviled film.

Equilibrium focus in on the hyper dystopia world of Libria, a world where all forms of emotional response have been deemed illegal and any materials which could result in such affect are either burned or kept in lock down far from the citizens access.  All persons inhabiting Libria are also subject to shots of Prozium which help to stave off any feelings or emotions, by creating disaffected citizens who move through the space of Libria like robots.  In opposition to Libria are the occupants of the "Nether" a space where humanity strives to continually claim a world of emotion and learning, even at the cost of continual attacks by the soldiers of Libria.  These soldiers are headed by individuals known as Grammaton Clerics, whose skills in gun kata and noted lack of emotions make them particularly skilled at taking down Nether rebels.  One such cleric, John Preston (Christian Bale) takes it upon himself to be outdo other members in his elite group, even betraying his former partner when he finds him suspect to harboring EC-10 materials (anything relating to evoking emotional content).  When John 'accidentally' misses one of his shots of Prozium things change considerably, becoming aware of his surroundings in a new way, John begins to make egregious errors in front of his new partner Brandt (Taye Diggs) as well as falling for one of the EC-10 violators named Mary O'Brien (Emily Watson) when he finds her to eerily resemble his dead wife.  Attempting to perform disaffection, John now navigates the world of Libria, hyperaware of the ways in which the society is hyper oppressive and indeed quite violent, proving unable to stand his place as a cleric any longer after he is forced to watch a group of soldiers gun down puppies.  When the resistance comes to realize that he is removed from the performance, they recruit him to assassinate the figure of Father (Sean Pertwee) the panoptic figure who is constantly overseeing the state of Libria.  After layers of trickery and help from unexpected sources, John is able to get to the inner space of Libria and find the veritable man behind the curtain, coming to destroy him and the entire system of propaganda spreading in the process. While it implies that this change will move to a new world, the certainty of this endeavor is left open-ended.

The major criticism mounted against this film appears to be that it is a mash-up of perviously executed films on the subject of dystopian future spaces, borrowing heavily from the works of cyberpunk fiction, Huxley visions of the future and enough 80's future cinema to not justify its own existence.  I would argue that this is true to a degree, but it would be a different story if the narrative were doing so merely to appropriate its own self-righteous ideals.  Instead, Equilibrium knowingly and purposefully incorporates pasts films in a pastiche that works wonderfully, not pretending to be revolutionary in its narrative, but instead adding a new voice to a dialogue that has been occurring well before the film came along.  Indeed, choosing to situate the film in settings from thirties era Berlin works two-fold to legitimately incorporate the hyper-fascist elements of many dystopian spaces, while also paying homage to Fritz Lang's Metropolis a film whose structure and look are clearly an influence upon Equilibrium.  Indeed, nothing about Equilibrium is hokey or misguided, but displays nothing short of honest craft from a director who openly admits to making films with the audiences interests in mind.  Indeed, when I hear directors make such assertions I am often immediately dismissive, because this makes me think of Michael Bay or the works of the Fast and Furious franchise.  Here, however, Wimmer is suggesting that not only is an audience capable of engaging with a relatively complex and open-ended plot, but that they are also more filmically versed than most major blockbuster films might suggest.   I would be hard pressed to find a similar critical attack being mounted against Quentin Tarantino who is essentially doing the exact same thing with every single one of his films and in the past few attempts they have been less than stellar in their result, returning to marked territory, not by former directors, but by Tarantino himself.  While I have soured on Pulp Fiction over the years, I can admit to the genuine success of its post-moderning mining of genre, I would argue that Equilibrium works to the same success and in many ways is far superior in its result.  This is not The Matrix by any means, but it certainly stands in a realm of audacious force that should be supported and promoted in filmmaking, not chastised.

Key Scene:  The discovery of Beethoven is one of the more low key sequences in the film, but it is absolutely the crux of the film and played as such.

This film demands your viewing.  There are apparently some issues with the bluray transfers available, so it might be (in the rare occasion) safer to go with the DVD.

Sin Can Be Caught As Easily As The Plague: The Devils (1971)

I had real trouble picking out a quote for this particular film, because as is the case with this and Altered States, ashamedly the only other film by Ken Russell I have viewed, every bit of dialogue is delivered with a sense of the literary grandiose, made all the more so by it narratively existing in 17th century france, a place rife with religious issues that extend outward to include intense problems in regards to repression of sexuality and a variety of diseases spreading through the country, Ken Russell who taps into such excesses and oppressions with surgeon-like precision excels with the material here.  I am aware that one could certainly read The Devils as being antithetical to all things horror, the theme of the blog this month, and to a certain degree I would tend to agree, however, I am also of the split opinion that The Devils is wholly a work of horror filmmaking, existing in the genre more so than many of the films I have viewed this month that have purported themselves to be fully genre, particularly the atrociously misguided and ill-conceived Hostel.  Russell, who makes it a method of his to question the limitations of human nature in both physical terms and sensorial, managing to extend this movement through spatial and temporal awareness to include the very means by which cinema records such non-linear trips.  A work like The Devils is horrific, in the same way the work of Kubrick, Hitchcock or Jodorowsky are intensely so, never backing down from imagery that is confrontational and though notably surreal, never inconsequential.  I will admit that I was not fully involved with this film, at least in the same sense as I was with Altered States, but that is primarily due to the somewhat lackluster prints of the film currently made available, whose graininess and general lack of cleanliness for a release print can be somewhat off-putting, especially considering that this film is decidedly cinematic, relying on detailed compositions wherein depth of field factor heavily into the interpretations of characters acts and emotions in real and quantifiable ways.  The Devils is a cinematic experiences in the same vein as Salo, becoming a point of reference for later exploitation films, most notably School of the Holy Beast, but in the hands of Russell it manages to extend to its own discordant cinematic world.

The Devils focuses on a religious town in 17th century France overseen by Cardinal Richelieu (Christopher Logue) a leader hoping to convince a flamboyant Louis XIII (Graham Armitage) to change the fortifications of France as a means to destroy a Protestant power move while also assuring his own advance in power.  Louis agrees to these demands but makes special provisions for the town of Loudon, for which he promised protection to its late governor.  The town is now overseen by the well-respected, albeit sexually voracious priest Urbain Grandieur (Oliver Reed) who is the object of affection for woman both in the community and behind the convent walls longing to consummate a relationship with the priest.  Grandieur, undoubtedly aware of his sway, moves through Loudon using his power as a priest to seek confession with various women, eventually settling on marrying a woman named Madeleine (Gemma Jones), much to the frustration of Grandieur's former lover Sister Jeanne (Vanessa Redgrave) who mounts a religious uprising against Madeleine, wholly a result of her feelings as a scorned lover.  Meanwhile, indifferent to the demands on the part of Louis XIII to spare the city of Loudon, one of Richelieu's men arrives in the city of Loudon intent of overtaking its population.  In the wildness of all this, Grandieur's debauchery is brought to the attention of a higher ranking priest, who mounts an inquisition on the town of Loudon, specifically on the convent in which Sister Jeanne and others reside.  The head inquisitor Pierre Barre (Michael Gothard) arrives at the convent only to discover it in a state of absolute lunacy, complete with naked nuns, who are having sexual experiences atop a giant crucifix, while suggestively stroking sacramental candles.  In a false attempt at exorcism, Barre and the others reveal the false state of the possession, but also show the entire act of an exorcism to be equally performative leading to a divide within the groups resulting in the ability of the town to be overcome by Richelieu's men that much easier.  When Grandieur returns to the town, he is called up for heresy and put on trial, alleged to be in league with Satan and despite his refusal to confess to his sins, he is burned at the stake, leaving a lovelorn Madeleine to leave the space of the city, entering onto a literal long and winding road with only the company of skeletons hanging on pikes outside the city.

Russell, as a filmmaker, perhaps most closely associates with the work of Alejandro Jodorowsky, in so much as their films, while linear, are only so in very tangential cohesions. Take, for example, the relationship between the experiences of of Richelieu and Louis XIII in relation to Grandieur and the town of Loudon, to a degree they could exist outside of each other, both in a temporal and spatial sense, only really relating because the film denotes itself as a historically-based period piece.  Aside from this distinction, Russell takes as many liberties as he sees fit, moving between showing the most abject of experiences available from the time, whether it be the very real plagues facing the space of France in the 17th century, or the disturbingly oppressive ways in which gender was relegated within patriarchal constructs of the time.  Russell is not attempting to make a wholly disturbing and unwatchable critique of religious wars, but instead; clearly intends to play up the absurdity and frivolity of the entire occurrence, at times overlaying his film with zany music to give even a exorcism a layer of Felliniesque absurdity.  Perhaps the best element of Russell's approach to the period piece, is to accept that a blanket recreation would not drive home the theme of unchecked authority and gendered privilege, thus making a degree of his set and visuals indicative of something within a science-fiction framework, giving the high walls and evasive angles of buildings a certain feeling that Loudon is a microcosm of a large dystopia, decidedly true of this point in history.  At times the film feels as though it could be lifted right out of an Orwell novel, while in other instances one could imagine its visuals fitting nicely inside of Michel Foucault's discussions of panopticism.  Russell is a filmmaker aware of the craft of filmmaking as an inherently fallible craft, wherein other period pieces push and strive for authenticity, without accepting that their very existence rejects a truth of the past, Russell instead uses the space to directly comment upon how past events can draw parallels to current problems, whether it be the on-the-nose references to religious power and the Ku Klux Klan or a more clever suggestion that exoticization and desire thrust upon those in a space of religious piety are far from contemporary issues, everything is working in a constant state of dialogue. Russell, wants his film to be a historical reconsideration, after all most period pieces emerge at a time when their narratives are decidedly relational to contemporary issues, The Devils was such a case, although in a nearly prophetic manner it still proves equally pertinent almost fifty years later.

Key Scene:  The exorcism obviously, whether it be for its pulling from Dreyer or from Fellini, it still manages to be a decidedly unique vision from the world of Russell.

I would rent this film, not because it is bad, but because the print is not ideal.  Hopefully, it will be salvaged by BFI or Criterion into a cleaner print than what is currently made available.

This Stupid Machine Needs A Kick In The Balls: Rats (1984)

Some viewing experiences are made quite better by the inclusion of other people sharing in the insanity or intensity of the cinematic moment.  Other moviegoing is made better by an alteration of perception induced by a few drinks, or for the particularly dangerous mind altering drugs. Then there are some experiences that are made better by both of these elements inclusion, but still manage to exist in a world entirely detached from all logical reason.  Rats, subtitled Night of Terror, is one such bit of madness that was viewed for this marathon at a retro screening taking place at my local indie theater.  Part of the glorious, and seemingly never ending sequence of Italian knock off films from the eighties, Rats is less clear than say, Starcrash, in what it is ripping off, in that it is one part zombie film, one part Mad Max parody and an even more wicked dose of nonsensical exploitation flick that seems almost inconceivable when layered with the classic Italian method of dubbing films, wherein synchronicity is deemed useless.  Even going into this film quite aware of how terrible the product would be, in wildly endearing ways, I was taken aback by how much I found myself consuming its implausibility, both in terms of how indifferent the filmmaker, the infamous Bruno Mattei, seemed in concerns of creating a remotely feasible plot, in so much as it begins with a narration about nuclear fallout that factors so very minimally into most of the film that it almost seems like the intro was an afterthought.  Yet, underneath all the insanity that is Rats lies a film with some moments of genuine excitement, surprisingly not all of which are undercut by some sweet Italian synth music, making for a movie with an incredible amount of laughs, but also a noted last sequence that I cannot shake out of my brain, one that is haunting and absurd simultaneously, as well yet another inspiration for a possible future costume.  Also, a lot of people scream for lengthy amounts of time in this film.

Rats, as noted, exists in a post-apocalyptic landscape, that is allegedly supposed to be Manhattan, where only two things still roam the earth, rats and biker gangs.  One such biker gang, consisting of absurdly named individuals such as Video (Gianno Franco) and black woman Chocolate (Geretta Geretta) find themselves stopping off in the ruins of Manhattan, in an apparent search for food.  Their decision to stop proves quite fruitful when a bar they enter is stockpiled with food, including the highly nutritious items of sugar and flour. Realizing that there was a previous group of people inhabiting the space, the biker gang thinks little of occupying the space for their own, enjoying the provisions made freely theirs, both in terms of sleeping quarters and a botanical garden full of fascinating, but assumedly useless plants.  Indeed, two members of the biker gang feel so very much at home that they begin having sex in a sleeping bag, in the line of sight of the entirety of the rest of their gang.  Yet, despite all their decadent delight, it becomes clear that they are not at all alone, but indeed sharing this space with an inordinate amount of rats, ones that happen to have a penchant for consuming human flesh, or, at the very least, flinging themselves in large droves at human bodies, until the individuals they attack become so scratched and disgusted as to be driven to madness.  Needless to say, the group takes it upon themselves to exact revenge upon the rodents, using everything from antiquated maces to malfunctioning flamethrowers to lay waste to both the rats and all the members of their group suffering from the scratches of the vile creatures.  Yet the rats in their incessant attacks and quickly mounting numbers, begin knocking off members of the biker gang, until only a few of the members remain.  In a narrative jump, a group of hazmat suit wearing humans begin spraying gas into the town, assumedly trying to kill the rats, but when the remaining members of the gang emerge from buildings to confront these exterminators, it becomes clear in a rather intense reveal that perhaps they were also on the docket to be suffocated like rodents.

There are a lot of simplistic film titles in the world, ones that only speak to a layer of the film and in other times there are film titles like Sharknado that give viewers everything they could possibly need to know about the film.  Somehow, completely unbeknownst to me, the title of Rats seems to masterfully cover the film I viewed last night, while also being a terribly misguided suggestion about what the film manages to undertake.  I do not mean to suggest that Rats is a good movie, for it is not, nothing about the film works from a structuralist standpoint, whether it be a complete lack of regard for continuity or a concern for explaining how and where the rats, of their multiple varieties, emerge.  Instead it is simply a post-apocalyptic tale concerning a group of travelers who are quite terrible at understanding, or perhaps accepting, that certain spaces are inhospitable.  Not to lean to heavily on the classic horror film critique of "they should have just left" as it defeats the nature of horror films and their fantastical elements, however, I feel it quite worth noting in the context of this film, because honestly there is no real context as to why the bikers stop, or as to why there was a bunker filled with weird video games, as one member suggests.  Rats almost manages to be a set of film ideas cut together, never really managing to be a single solid work, but again, not to detract from my earnest joy while watching this film, because damn if it was not enjoyable in its lack of continuity.  Even as I sit here and critique these elements of the film, I am also aware of some of its truly captivating moments, whether it is those which occur when a mise-en-scene is formed that manages to incorporate rats into the windows of the background, or the synth actually hits its cue in a great way.  Rats, I guess, is an enigma more than anything else, which has helped it to gain its notoriety, particularly since its begin is in such stark contrast to its captivating ending.  Of course, there is also a real possibility that it is just a bad movie that should only be loved as such, Rats is yet another work from the golden age of Italian blockbuster knock-offs that proves to be a bit more than its intention and for that it should continually be sought out and viewed.

Key Scene: Rat humans.

There are murmurings of a Bluray release emerging soon.  I cannot suggest this release enough, in which case waiting to view it is permissible.

A Friend Of Mine Went On Carousel, Now He's Gone: Logan's Run (1976)

The very nature of the dystopian sci-fi thriller is to lull audiences with awe-inspiring imagery only to counter such beauty with jarring realities of a nightmarish and terribly Orwellian futurescape, however, very few films manage to take the concept and stretch it out over a feature length film and not completely lose steam halfway through, this certainly happens at times during The Omega Man and Soylent Green, perhaps Charlton Heston is to blame.  However, when a director and its subject matter gets it right the result can be quite astounding, as is certainly the case with THX 1138, which is both a visual feast and a narrative masterpiece.  While not quite on the level of the early Lucas work, Logan's Run does indeed manage to be an impressionist vision of the future that substantiates itself with a stellar narrative and commentary on the future.  Hell, it even proves to have come out in one of the most seminal years in filmmaking, setting along side Taxi Driver, Cria Cuervos and Nashville, all films that i have provided praise for to some degree in on this blog, although the latter was, technically, released a year earlier.  Logan's Run is particularly good, because while it certainly makes viewers aware of its showy elements, whether they be the expansive miniature sets intended to display the future, or the heavy emphasis on stop-motion special effects and hand drawn animation, all elements exist as a means to expand on the story, as opposed to distract viewers from any degree of lack, although it is admittedly hard not to become completely overwhelmed by something like the carousel scene, which works on a highly poetic level, as well as a grounded undermining of the notion of moving on to a "better place."  I would argue that very few contemporary directors within the sci-fi genre manage to comprehend the future in quite this way, except maybe The Wachowski's but even then their works clearly exist with a degree of homage to this works Platonic philosophy.  If all of this fails to sell this cinematic masterpiece, there is some glorious hair going on that even includes the likes of a young Farah Fawcett.

Logan's Run is set in the future, 2274 to be exact, wherein lifespans cut off at the age of thirty and individuals are sent onto Carousel a spiraling upward magical ride that leads those at cut-off to a sort of rebirth, meaning, of course, that no individual within this society is old, nor has ever seen an old person.  While a majority of the citizens gladly embrace their assumed rebirth a considerable amount of individuals are suspicious of the carousel as a form of population control and attempt to avoid their turn on it, becoming known as Runners in the process, precisely because they must run away from the world in order to avoid such a fate.  In comes Logan 5 (Michael York) and his friend Francis 7 (Richard Jordan) as Sandman, whose jobs within this society are to prevent runners from escaping, even if it means killing them to do so.  Logan 5, unlike Francis 7 begins to reconsider his role as a Sandman, and his eventual fate at the carousel when he takes one runners possession to a processor, and discovers their ankh necklace to be a symbol of eternal life.  The computer in rebellion pushes Logan 5's processing date ahead, forcing him to flee in fear of carousel, becoming a runner himself, acquiring the help of another runner Jessica 6 (Jenny Agutter) to help escape the colony.  This escape leads them deep underground where they discover a frozen underworld in which the bodies of those runners frozen, as well as food kept from the outside world.  Box (Roscoe Lee Browne) a robot attempts to stop them from running, but Logan 5 and Jessica 6 eventually escape relatively unharmed, even managing to find the overgrown world of Washington D.C., although they are unfamiliar with it, finding a the aged statue of Abraham Lincoln quite bizarre.  During their exploration they met an old man, played supremely by Peter Ustinov, who explains to them the world outside of their colony, as well as the joys of growing old.  This revelation, in the eyes of Logan 5 and Jessica 6, must be shared with their colony, and after fighting off those who disagree, including Francis 7, they share the experiences of the old man with their colony, as they all begin to rise out of the cave of lies and false hopes of recycling.

While the main theme of this film certainly concerns issues of overpopulation, sustenance and fears of growing old, as do many science fiction works, it is hard not to consider how excellent of a consideration this is of Plato's Allegory of the Cave.  I know I refer to this quite regularly on the blog, but Logan's Run is truly a stellar adaptation of one of the great philosophers most universal teachings.  I will assume readers are quite familiar with this work and, as such, will not elaborate to heavily, however, I do want to note that it is essentially about living in metaphorical darkness, and seeing a light,  or becoming educated and attempting to share those realizations with persons still living in the darkness of ignorance.  Director Michael Anderson extends this notion to argue that the ignorance of people living in Logan 5's colony is a direct result of consumer excess, as much of the colony is quite reminiscent of a large shopping mall.  They chose to agree to young age and the comforts of conspicuous consumption, even fearing wrinkles or old age, let alone a person who even begins to question the possibility of something aside from carousel.  The film deals with seeing the light in a very literal sense, in that Logan 5 and Jessica 6 emerge from the cave into a blistering sun, although it to occurs in a educational sense, as they purposefully emerge in a dilapidated Washington D.C., a veritable locale of knowledge as guiding light.  However, it is their interaction with an individual who is equally, if not more, happy than they living outside the colony and growing old that inspires them to share their experiences, particularly those relating to learning.  It is also no accident, that the old man quotes T.S. Eliot, whose poetry would personify the idea of expanding the human consciousness to things beyond even the tangible, although as the closing moments of the film do emphasize, it is quite often the quantifiable elements that help move people from blind ignorance to enlightenment.

Key Scene:  The entire "face change" sequence is a god damn vision of cinematic dystopia, that is at once beautiful and nightmarish.

Buy this on bluray, it is a spectacle and well worth seeing in the highest quality possible.

I Am Here To Protect You. You Have Nowhere To Go: THX 1138 (1971)

I had heard many positive things about THX 1138 prior to viewing it, particularly its technical achievements.  Given this, I expected the film to be visually amazing but lacking in narrative.  I am here to tell you that THX 1138 is far more than fancy cinematic magic and is definitely an enjoyable film.  I know it is a brave statement to make, but I find the film to be equally as good as Star Wars, if not better.  It represents a moment in independent American filmmaking that relied on directorial vision over producer's demands and it certainly reflects artistic vision as something of greater importance than inherent financial success.  In the vein of Plato's Allegory of the Cave, THX 1138 combines minimalist artistry and dystopian lyricism to make a film that stands alone as a work that has clearly inspired many of its predecessors.

As stated, the film is clearly inspired by Plato and as such, the narrative follows a society that literally exists underground.  The people, more insect-like than human, follow the orders of speakers, robot police officers and a print screen image of Jesus.  From the onset things appear to be forever entrenched in logical oppression, until a couple identified as THX (Robert Duvall) and LUH (Maggie McOnie) engage in solicit sexual activity that is for non-reproductive purposes.  This causes the couple to become political dissidents within their society, leading to their detainment in a stark border-less white world.  THX is separated from LUH and makes it his quest to rejoin her.  THX then joins with another member of the community named SRT (Don Pedro Colley), a former holographic actor who finds his job meaningless and seeks something new.  Together they attempt to find LUH while also escaping the city.  The duo quickly discovers that LUH has been captured and sent to organ donation, which leads to a bizarre sequence in which THX breaks down upon the discover of a fetal version of LUH.  Ultimately, THX is separated from SRT and continues his escape from the city, climbing towards the surface as the government pursues him.  Realizing that it is costing more money to chase THX than is allowed the government calls off the chase moments before he reaches the surface.  The film closes in the final moments with THX looking off into a large a blistering sunset that leaves his future uncertain.

I could elaborate on the obvious critiques here as they relate to bureaucracy and fascist ideologies, but it has been done, and to be honest it is rather obvious in the film.  Instead I want to touch upon how truly important this film is to American independent cinema.  Sure, it is not the iconic film that Easy Rider became, but it is the only production released by the powerhouse that was American Zoetrope.  Led by the burgeoning director Francis Ford Copolla the group included the young genius of George Lucas and editor Walter Murch, the two whose names are most closely associated with THX 1138.  They, as a group, took an image from their days as college filmmakers and created a fully realized film that is magical, critical and enjoyable.  It is an intimate fully realized film from a very famous director.  In fact, I would argue that were THX 1138 never made, the world would never have received Star Wars down the line.  This film represents an incredibly significant moment in filmmaking and it is well worth watching for that, the enjoyability is just an added bonus.

I recommend this film highly and there is an excellent two-disc version that covers the American Zoetrope years in great length.  Any film scholar will benefit from this viewing.

The Television Screen Is The Retina To The Mind's Eye: Videodrome (1983)

Videodrome is a psychological thriller of its own world.  Special effects whiz and gore enthusiast David Cronenberg creates a film that is both absurdly distancing and bizarrely familiar, using the problems of television and the decay of his society as a medium for a much more profound study of human existence and meaning.  At no point in Videodrome does the viewer feel certain of the filmic reality, often assuming dreams for reality and vice versa.  What makes Cronenberg different from his horror contemporaries is his unrestrained focus on narrative structure and the believability of his images.  Sure, the film is inherently fantastic in its existence, but somehow the director manages to make the act of a man's chest opening and receive a video tape like a VCR oddly believable.  Cronenberg's intent is to create a film that is as much a documentation of his society, as it is a manifesto to a world void of mind-numbing television, which can literally kill those addicted to its dangerous aura.

Videodrome's dystopic narrative begins with television executive Max Renn (James Woods) awaking to his own personal television station, the psuedopirated station Civic TV.  Viewers quickly discover that Renn's station is far from politically correct and often shows violent images and profane sexual acts.  Surprisingly, Max is fed up with his material and openly demands a new show that is both raw and realistic depicting the degradation of humanity at its lowest level.  After a series of flops, Max's co-worker and television pirate Harlan (Peter Dvorsky) introduces Max to a feed he has received which depicts a woman being viciously tortured.  Max becomes obsessed with the show fantasizing about discovering its source and obtaining it for his own use on his television station.  However, as Max finds out the show titled Videodrome is far more complex than a series of images.  According to the shows creator, Videodrome represents something far greater than television in that it represents the next evolution him humankind, a form that is inextricably attached from the television and becomes a pawn to its every demand.  Without divulging the entirety of the plot, it is safe to say that this attachment to Videodrome leads Max into a surreal world of repetition, madness and simulation that ends in a poetically tragic point that is as uncertain to the viewer as the film has been up to this point.  It posits the possibility that the viewer has now become the next extension of Videodrome, whether they care to accept it or not.

Videodrome is full of points of social criticism and I have chosen to touch upon two of the rather blatant commentaries.  The first being the unprecedented influence that television based media has proven to possess over society.  David Cronenberg made this film well before the existence of Fox News, CNN or any other bias heavy news station, yet the film seems to be directly attacking these propaganda laden organizations that focus on slanderous ideology over researched fact.  This is most evident in the character of Dr. Brian O'Blivion (Jack Creley) who spouts illogical prophetic statements about the place of television as a mind of the people, the sole source for their ideals, television to O'Blivion, as it is to many news media stations, is the source of infiltration to a feeble minded society that is literally attached to the television, awaiting the penetration of their next set of beliefs and actions.  Secondly, Videodrome serves as a study on what is considered obscene.  The entirety of Max's network is predicated on displaying imagery that shocks and disturbs its viewers, because as Max claims, viewers want to be desensitized whether they admit to it or not.  Like the previous commentary, Cronenberg is as prophetic as O'Blivion.  Our culture seems preoccupied with seeing degradation, whether it be through viral videos or the disturbing, yet undeniable spike in desire for abuse related media, most of which is of a sexual nature.  It is a contemporary problem that Cronenberg realized quite early, and one that the director assumes can only happen with complete annihilation of the retina that is Videodrome.

Regardless of your opinions on David Cronenberg, this movie will blow your mind and is yet another gem offered buy the crew over at Criterion.  Thank them by purchasing a copy, if only for the awesome DVD art.

First There Was Darkness, Then Came The Strangers: Dark City (1998)

For a multitude of reasons, some very good films fall under the radar in favor of superior films.  Usually this occurs in a year with a significantly large amount of good movies.  The 1998 film Dark City is certainly an example of this, because not only is it a beautiful film, it is also a rather poignant statement on the state of human souls in a world destroyed by industrialization.  It is a multi-coursed cinematic feast complete with excellent acting, flashy action sequences and state-of-the-art special effects.  With the exception of Terry Gilliam few directors can pull of such feats, yet in Dark City Alex Proyas does all these things and so much more.

 This neo-noir film follows a cast of characters in a city that is always plagued with darkness.  The main character is one John Murdoch (Rufus Sewell), who appears to have lost all of his memories with the exception of a strong bond to Shell Beach.  As becomes evident, however, Murdoch’s memories, like those of the whole of Dark City are fabrications by a group of wraith like aliens on a quest for the perfect soul.  Through a manipulative practice known as “tuning” these aliens wipe and exchange people’s memories, occupations and even living quarters as if it were a simulation game, complete with its own microcosm for Earth.  However, Murdoch, with the help of a cast of other characters, most importantly Dr. Schreber (Keifer Sutherland), discovers that even if his memories are fabricated his emotions remain, and through ambition and his own perfection of the “tuning” process, he is able to create a city of his own memories, complete with the Shell Beach of days gone by.

One of the blatant critiques to emerge from this film is its dismissal of patriarchy.  The aliens, all of which appear to be male and refer to themselves with the surname Mr, control Murdoch and the other residents of Dark City.  In this sense, the film is obviously approaching issues of emotionless oppression under the logic driven patriarchal framework.  One that is concerned with a collective memory that is ironically portrayed as an old pale white male, as opposed to individual experience which in Dark City includes women, persons of color and even the disabled.  It shows that soul and beauty cannot come from pure brainpower, which in the film is literally parasitic and devours any opposition.  Instead, as Murdoch explains to one of the aliens in its moment of death to find the human soul one should look to the heart, not to the head.

This is the best contemporary Blu-ray I have seen to date.  It is well worth seeing purely for its cinematic value, but be assured that the story is quite good on its own and deserves more recognition than it seems to have.  Do yourself a favor and buy a copy immediately.