Fortune Is Allied To The Brave: Clash Of The Titans (1981)

I am riding the wave of repetitive blog posts in the New Year!  While it was not a goal of mine to compose a single blog for every day of the year,  as conferences and school will, undoubtedly, get in the way, I am currently afforded plenty of free time and know that there is little excuse as to not make an earnest endeavor to tackle this possibility.  I am also plowing through movies at a fast rate and figured that reflecting on at least one a day would be beneficial.  As such, viewing Clash of the Titans yesterday proved to be the most promising blog post, not because it was in any way the best viewing experience of the day, but more so because it offered me the best chance to navigate a theoretical framework, this one inspired by existentialism, a near and dear philosophical framework of mine that I have become far too detached from in recent years.  Clash of the Titans is a film that has become adored some three decades later not for it being a particularly key narrative offering in the fantasy genre--the middle portion actually drags quite a bit--but has been noted for its interesting use of claymation in a moment when special effects were still moving into the world of CGI, but not completely feasible.  Works like this and Repo Man attempted audacious things with lesser special effects forms and in both cases excel at this incredibly.  What manages to make Clash of the Titans that much more enjoyable is the variety of noted performers who offer their services to the narrative, whether they be the likes of Maggie Smith who would have still been establishing herself as an actress, or the more prolific performances by the great Laurence Olivier and star of the most adored of Twilight Zone episodes Burgess Meredith.  Hell, this film even includes Ursula Andress in a non-Dr. No role which is also a nice thing to see, as she has become unfairly attached to that film.  Clash of the Titans, at first glance, would appear to be a very childish narrative with the special effects magic to reinforce such notions, yet as the narrative unfolds and ethical boundaries become crossed, it becomes rather evident that not only is this a tale with enough tragedy and happenstance to prove quite adult in its scope, it is also a film that considers whether or not the presence of a divine force is truly a blessing, or if the bizarre workings of the natural world are simply out to get even the most well-intentioned of persons.

The Clash of the Titans focus on the deliberations and defiances between the gods of antiquity as the plan to move for power with their respective mortal beings, some of which are through divine ordination their offsprings.  Zeus (Laurence Olivier) in particular is concerned with the well being of his own child Perseus (Harry Hamlin) who is but a small child who has been banished alongside his mother to a remote island to live out his days, an act undertaken by Thetis (Maggie Smith) who has allowed for her own earthy child Calibos (Neil McCarthy) to run wild and act in the most vile of manners.  As such, Zeus with his infinite power has turned the evil Calibos into a figure that properly reflects his own terrible actions.  In a vengeful act, Thetis relocates the young Perseus to a remote island where he is to fend for himself, while attempting to reclaim the kingdom an act which is predicated upon him achieving the affections of a young princess, as well as returning the head of Medusa to a city.  If Perseus fails to achieve this task, Zeus and Thetis come to an agreement that he will release the monstrous Kraken upon the land, much to the concern and confusion of Poseiden (Jack Gwillim).  While Thetis does her best to put up obstacles for Perseus, Zeus is able to recruit the help of the other goddesses in the temple, specifically, Athena (Susan Fleetwood), Aphrodite (Ursula Andress) and Hera (Claire Bloom).  In doing so, Perseus is provided with a set of weapons and devices that makes his navigation of the new lands slightly less challenging, although he still is forced to face off against a variety of mythological beasts, including giant scorpions and Cerebus, al leading to his eventual confrontations with both Calibos and Medusa.  Fortunately, Perseus is also afforded an earthly guide through the figure of Ammon (Burgess Meredith) a poet and oracle of sorts that helps Perseus to translate the messages from the gods and make the best use of the gifts he is given.  While it would appear as though Perseus simply lacks the necessary strength to overcome the powerful Kraken, a last minute boost from his animal companion Pegasus proves enough to succeed, thus making his status as a king amongst men certain, even pushing to a reality where he might achieve the status of a Titan himself.

I think the last time I discussed the notion of game theory here on the blog was in regards to the surprisingly enjoyable and decently executed The Cooler, wherein William H. Macy's character represents a figure who is some how divinely unlucky, predisposed to have the world against him, although it is later evidenced that his playing in a larger game of performances and backstabbing had something to do with this.   Nonetheless, game theory denotes a reality where contingency and chance play as much a role in the occurrences of a character as do their skill and prowess, often times luck, or the lack thereof making for the ultimate deciding factor.  Indeed, I would most comfortably apply the ideas of game theory to the likes of film noir where they are most fitting.  With this in mind I still think a case could be made for Clash of the Titans working within this framework in a notable and interesting way, if not outwardly evidenced in the way that Perseus and other figures within the narrative are literally the pawns of the gods rivalry, ones that can be molded, moved and revived merely by a waving of their respective hands.  This realization takes the paranoia latent in the game theory as it relates to something like a crime thriller and puts it into its most realized form as it is a game, and regardless of what Perseus, Calibos or any other earthly figures might attempt, it is still contingent upon the gods playing a larger game with their bodies.  Of course, that is not to say that the skill and precision of the earthy manifestations do not still play a factor.  While both Zeus and Thetis could do their best to give various advantages to their pawns a randomness is still at play.  Suffice it to say, the battle between Medusa and Perseus could have gone a variety of ways and from a statistical standpoint (something key to game theory) Perseus should have lost out, but his low victory percentage is raised ever so slightly by possessing a shield and sword as to make victory feasible.  This paired with his own self-growth made for a push to Titan like statistical probability, all overseen by the hands of Zeus, that allow for him to easily destroy the Kraken.  Game theory, by pure narrative necessity, might be at its most realized in Clash of the Titans.

Key Scene:  The Medusa battle, despite using a now well-dated special effects method is still incredibly cinematic and highly engaging.

This film is well worth your time, but probably is of keen interest to me from a theoretical standpoint, as such I strongly urge a rental first.

I Want To Stay Sane Enough To Recognize The Terror: Marebito (2004)

I have seen many Tartan Asian Extreme releases, in most cases entirely predicated upon their being Korean films, which means that I will give them consideration for this fact alone.  While about a third of the films are generally watchable, most prove a bit reductive, or exploitative in ways that neither push forward genre conventions or prove watchable even in a disconcerting manner.  Even fewer suffer from the problem of wild mislabeling in their advertisement, or at least that was the case with Marebito, a film that sat on my "to view" shelf for ages because from the looks of its vague, torture porn/vampire cover it was something I would immediately hate upon popping it into my DVD player.  Yet, in the case of this film, the DVD cover and vague description on the back do little to truly speak to the excellent work which presents itself on the film.  An entirely digital film, Takashi Shimizu, manages to meld together various types of moving images, whether they be video recordings, television images or even the diegetic space of the film itself to consider what is seen by the human eye and, more interestingly, what presences beyond human perception can emerge when a new form of technology can achieve heightened senses.  Doubling also as a narrative of descent into the labyrinth of madness, Marebito becomes a work so purposefully expressionist that it has a degree of landscape painting, at times indicative of the work of Caspar David Friedrich or the wonderful nightmarish spaces of a F.W. Murnau film, more so considering the twisting of the plot in ways that make Dr. Caligari seem like a straightforward story.  Marebito, much like post-2000 J-horror films, challenges the conventions of horror, but does so while also undermining the entire under process of filmmaking in the process.

Marebito focuses on Masuoka (Shinya Tsukamoto) a freelance cameraman who travels about the city of Tokyo chronicling items of interest, compounding them together, along with hours of surveillance footage to create a bizarre sort of viewing room in his house full of televisions and computer screens constantly streaming various imagery, both of a mundane and tragic nature.  Perhaps one of the more unusual things in Masuoka's viewing is that of a woman staring out a window, of which he constantly talks to about her existence.  However, when Masuoka uncovers footage of a man stabbing himself in the forehead, he becomes obsessed with the nature of his fear and curious as to what the man was starring at so intensely right before committing the act.  When the image breaks free of its conventions and directly acknowledges Masuoka's looking, he becomes even more scared and begins a quest into the underworld of Tokyo to find answers.   With his camera in tow, Masuoka discovers a world of underground dwellers known as Dero, who seem more like bestial vampires than humanoid figures.  When he comes across the deceased form of the body he watched stab itself on screen, Masuoka's descent takes on new levels, particularly when he emerges from his descent into a new world of lush colors and dreary skylines, where he finds one of the presumed Deros, this time a female, chained to the wall naked.  Confused, but curious, Masuoka takes the woman back to his apartment and begins keeping her as a pet, an act that quickly takes a dark turn, not only for its possession elements, but because the girl, who Masuoka names F, can only be nourished by being given blood to consume, finding particular enjoyment in human blood.  This leads to Masuoka's life falling apart and his alienating, in some times very harmful ways, from the rest of the world, while also becoming aware of his own heightened perceptions after his descent into the darkness, leading to a sacrificial act on his part so grand that it causes him to assumedly plunge into the depths of the labyrinth completely and irreversibly.

To call Marebito a bizarre reconsideration of Plato's Allegory of the Cave would be a bit of a misnomer, even if Masuoka does represent a character bringing an understanding of "the light" to a group living in the shadows.  Indeed, it is far more inclined to pull from the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, particularly since the narrative does have a winding maze like quality about it and the descent into the labyrinth is rather obvious.  Masuoka, however, is far from the valiant figure of Theseus who manages to slay a minotaur and win the love of the girl.  Instead, Masuoka is almost a hybrid of the two tales, a man questing a deeper understanding of perception by coming to face that which is truly frightening, hoping to share in the vision of the suicidal man, thus becoming hyper aware of the world that surround him.  Masuoka certainly achieves this quest, but it is also at the cost of much of the world around him, clearly not the most healthy of individuals Masuoka shells himself up in his home, clearly malnourished and decidedly lacking in proper hygiene.  It is not until his ability to sequester himself from the world around him is question, via his wife whose presence inexplicably emerges into the narrative that things truly take a turn.  The Prozac popping Masuoka tosses away his pills, affording him a new awareness of his surroundings, realizing that even the most normal seeming of individuals are existing in a state of fractured self, one that is tied to the digital world in ways that are visible.  The quickly maddening Masuoka also begins to pick up the creatures navigate the liminal space of the world both through the lens of his film camera, as well as in the shadows of the street, his psychosis, or perhaps his "transcendence" into darkness proving the necessary lens to capture the world in a new and decidedly troublesome way.  This is only one element within all the other considerations at work in Marebito, including narratives of voyeurism, depression, the place of technology in modern Japan and relationships in a broad scale.  It works on these levels brilliantly and jarringly.

Key Scene:  The walking through the streets of Tokyo when Masuoka's perceptions begin to falter is haunting, in a way only digital filmmaking could invoke.

This DVD is pretty cheap on Amazon, but it might still be worth renting first, particularly since I am still uncertain as to whether or not this is actually a brilliant film.