Letters To Films

Dear The Dark Knight (some spoilers),

After more than two and a half hours with you, I felt a bit depressed. I know that this is era when we “reimagine” films that took the visual style of comics, but left the grittiness they had behind, but even so, your balance was off.

I was surprised to find you a bit of a downer, since I enjoyed the last batman film, and I’d heard so many good things about this one.

The thing is, whether cel-shaded or realistic, gritty or stylised, I go to an action-hero film expecting it to obey without exception one rule: the hero should be awesome (or at least become awesome in the course of the film).

You managed to pack into your two and a half hours so many scenes in which the Joker, for all his protestations of planlessness, was the only character in control. Even the tedious deus-ex-machina (in the literal, omnipresent sense as well as the dramatic sense) device to give Batman an intelligence edge was insignificant. In fact the extreme level of meticulous planning by the Joker did border on the ridiculous, something more than a little strange for a self-confessed agent of chaos.

I can’t deny Heath Ledger did a good job (although perhaps a little over hyped?). His Joker was deranged in just the right way, and pretty scary. However, it is hard to swallow the idea that someone could be so devoted to madness and chaos that he wants to do all the things he does, and yet not so mad as to be completely ineffective at them. I think I would have preferred a slightly less effective and in control joker, although he could have been a master of improvisation. At the very most, he could have had a number of small, self contained plans, rather than one grand plan. That would have provided a bit of much needed room for Batman to show some of the heroism that they talk about through the film.

The talking has enough of its own contradictions. I was hoping for a deeper meditation on the dangers of vigilantism and the importance of the rule of law than just a bit of verbal sparring to impress a girl at a restaurant. At the end of the day, the real answer seems to be “it’s bad, unless you’re as pure of heart as Bruce Wayne”. Which is great, except for the fact that it’s a nonanswer - it’s only the good who can be counted on to question the purity of their hearts (although his one rule goes some way to explaining why his breed of vigilantism is not as dangerous as many others, despite his occasional use of torture). And what of the ethical discussion about surveillance? I might agree that it’s “too much power for one man”, but when the seductiveness of that power is barely even acknowledged, it looks more like the reflexive action of a bunch of liberals controlled by the system - as the joker claims, rather than the true, painful sacrifice of an Übermensch for a principle he chooses to believe important. If it really is immoral to wield that power over a prolonged period of time, why is it ok “just this once”, a position strangely in contrast to one of the most famous of ethical laws - Kants categorical imperative.

Partly because of his motivelessness beyond a desire “to see the world burn”, it’s difficult to sympathise with the joker. Shakespeare had difficulty portraying the malignancy of Iago without giving much of a motive (not the only parallel to Shakespeares ‘dark knight’ Othello). The same problem is here. What makes it even harder is his insistence that we should know nothing about him, no matches for fingerprints, no friends or family. Even his tragic history is rewritten on a whim. He’s a man who seems to have nothing but knives, pocket lint and a hard to pin down location. All we really know about him is that he’s obsessed with driving men bad, and that he’s demonically good at it. Still, I do find myself interested in his philosophy, and his social experiments.

Just how would people vote in such a situation? At the beginning of the scene I’d thought to myself, 2/3rds for, 1/3rd against, but thinking about it now, I’m pretty sure that’s optimistic. Funny how I found what happened on the other ship more believable. Perhaps I believe more in the occasional heroism of bad men who know they’re bad than the lowest denominator of a self-righteous democratic crowd.

What should have been the most emotional moment of the film was surprisingly dead for me, I’m not sure why. In fact, more than anything else, it showed what a bad judge of character Bruce Wayne is. His hopes for a vigilantiless fix for the cities crime problem had blinded him to the whole point of institutions. Institutions are there because most people are not heroes, and the few that are might fall. Institutions are there so that no one man has to be the face of good. He should have let the police save their man, and gone after his own friend, and if he’d known what would happen, I’m sure he would have. Batman makes the same bad choice at the end, sacrificing his reputation for a lie he believes is important because of a misunderstanding of the unimportance of individuals inside institutions. It’s the individuals out of the context of institutions that are important. They are the ones whose symbolism can inspire people, and who will cause the most damage by their fall.

Far from being awesome, Batman spends most of this film finding excuses for cowardice and lies. He shows himself to be a follower, not a leader, dangerously susceptible to a cult of personality and there’s no doubt in my mind that the Joker won this one in straight sets.

Yours,

Depressed

Dear Journey To The Centre of The Earth,

You clearly drew an enormous amount of inspiration from the book by Jules Verne, paralleling so much of the story, but as a film there was something missing. Everything was ok, the acting was generally acceptable, but not stellar. It seems to me that something somehow more epic, more frightening and darker could have been made with the same material. I mean come on- an opportunity for underground dinosaurs, storms, cavernal carniverous plants, extinct threats resurrected. How can that not be awesome?

Perhaps you were trying too hard to be kid-friendly, keeping the exciting action to a minimum. Some films do manage to make geological threats scary, but you didn’t, and you shouldn’t have had to (were you duped into thinking that 3d rocks were somehow scarier than 2d rocks?), with all the dangers of the Mesozoic to choose from. Yet you ended up with just a single dinosaur and a single vicious plant? Maybe that’s why you scattered some poor comedy in there too. The only real laugh out loud moment for me was the in-joke about the old 3d-viewer the main character finds in his brothers stuff - “I have no idea what this is”.

Or maybe the problem was with the acting and characterisation. Just because it’s Brendan Fraser doesn’t mean that it’s Ok for him to be an unfit wheezing volcanologist in one scene and Richard O’Connell from the Mummy in the next.

Whatever it was that did it, somehow you ended up just OK as a film.

Fortunately, that wasn’t all you were offering. I’m very interested in 3D displays, but I haven’t watched a film in 3D before, the enjoyment of that (for me) new experience was enough to add another two points to your rating, from 5/10 for the film to 7/10 for the full experience.

The 3D system used was RealD, which uses a single projector, projecting at 144Hz (that’s quite quick), alternating which eye is projected each frame (and multiply projecting each frame, so each eye is only really getting 24Hz), and a circularly polarizing filter in front of it. What the science means is that you wear what appears to be a moderate sized pair of plastic sunglasses (although in case you want to try to use them as sunglasses, warnings are printed onto them that they don’t protect against UV light), which are perfectly comfortable, and because it’s circularly polarized (anticlockwise/clockwise), you get very little cross-talk even if you tilt your head.

It might seem a bit weird wearing dark glasses in a darkened cinema, but it’s fine, and I forgot I was wearing them quite quickly.

It became obvious to me that although I really enjoyed the 3d effect, it was a mixed blessing. Firstly not all of the shots work that well, particularly if the 3d effect is being used to make something out of focus appear closer than the screen, it did make my eyes go a bit funny. Fortunately not too many shots were that bad, but it did highlight that making good 3d shots is a separate skill from normal filming, and perhaps not one that has been developed very highly yet. I suspect that filmmakers think it’s just like normal filming,but in 3d, but it isn’t and demands its own aesthetic.

Perhaps worse, the fact of having the 3d meant that lots of rather unnecessary bits were included, simply for the 3d effect. There was a whole set up of the kid learning to yo-yo, which I was sure was going to be relevant later in the film, but seems to have just been there so they could do 3d shots of the yoyo, and quite a few other scenes that should have been cut, because they were just there to demonstrate the 3d, but actually damaged the whole pacing of the film. I also wonder if filming in 3d constrained the budget for special effects unduly.

Despite these problems, the fact is that 3d shots can create a visceral reaction 2d can’t. When the character brushes his teeth and spits it out over the camera, a shot I’ve seen before in 2d without being impressed, flinches and cries of “ewww”, came from around the cinema. When a spike appears to be sticking out of the screen towards you, people shift in their seats uncomfortably, but to be honest, it was just the normal scenes I liked the most. Most of the time,the action is taking place comfortably in the screen, but just a bit more 3d than normal, and I really liked that. The special scenes where the 3d is being vaunted were fun when they weren’t distracting from the story, but at the end of the day, I would like to see more 3d films made, and the art of making them grow from aiming for novelty (fun though that is), to a serious exploration of the artistic possibilities and limitations of it as a new form of media. I think most films could benefit from being 3d.

Yours,

Someone who thinks your gimmick saved you.

Dear Kung Fu Panda,

It was good to see you the other night. There were so many things I enjoyed. The awkward, fat Panda discovering his true awesomeness (for which apparently, there is ‘no charge’). Tai Lung, the snow leopard was everything a bad guy should be - the kind of guy you lock in a maximum security dedicated prison for years, but he can use any small change to defeat everything. Sheer menace, and with just a tiny flicker of heroism and self awareness to show the tragedy of how great he could have been.

I could almost forgive the ridiculous speed in which Po the Panda goes from klutz to master because in place of the standard montage showing hard work, there was a genius sequence of food based training. It had me chuckling in my seat.

This did highlight a moral weakness though. Your philosophy seems to be “believe in yourself and you can achieve your dream”. On the one hand, we’ve all seen Dumbo, and the million other stories with the same emphasis on how all you need to do is believe in yourself, on the other hand, it obscures an enormous part of the true story. No unfit person (or panda) will become a Kung Fu master with a couple of days of training. Your point seems to be trying to tell obese children that they don’t have to worry about fitness, or years of training, they can excel in their chosen field (even a very physically demanding one) just by “believing in themselves”.

This is a lie.

There is no question that believing in yourself is enormously important. Without at least some measure of self belief, it is very difficult to learn something new, and to stick at it until you become good at it, but the simple truth is that it takes the normal person about 10 years of effortful study to become expert at something, and even if you’re a genius, it will take more than 5. This is why it’s so important to love the process of learning.

I’m not saying that every film that portrays this kind of transformation needs to take at least 5 years, it’s just that without at least a nod to the kind of effort any worthwhile endeavour requires, it devalues the whole goal. No skill worth learning can be mastered in a few days.

There was also some weakness in the backing characters. The villagers were an undifferentiated mass of duracell bunnies and geese (Po seems to be the only Panda, an odd thing that is referred to, but never explained). Monkey was played by Jackie Chan, something I realised when he gave his one (or was it two) lines, of no relation to the plot. It’s funny to have him and Lucy Liu in the film, but only as an in joke. (Strange to have a character play a cameo, when he’s actually in so many of the scenes).

That brings me to the casting of Jack Black. Was he cast just because he’s known to be a bit fat? He was funny, yes, but when it comes to portraying the character, I found it pretty hard to believe at any point that Po was really suffering from self-belief issues. Shame to have the central character undercut the story.

I wonder if the style of the opening dream sequence is a direct reference to “Samarai Jack”.

The most compelling story was actually that of Master Shifu, the Kung Fu master who has lost his peace because the child he loved reflected back to him the worst of his own obsession.

It was a fun evening, with lots of in jokes and references for me to chuckle over, and lovely, over the top fight scenes - the final defeat was surprisingly unseen, but I think a fitting end.

Yours,

An amused Panda fan.

Dear Hancock,

I had a fun time with you tonight, but I do feel somewhat cheated.  Your trailers promised a very specific kind of story, which really appealed to me, and I was looking forward to.  I was a bit surprised to discover that the promised story took up only the first part of the film, and that most of the good bits of that I’d already seen in the trailers.  The rest of the story was a completely different kind of thing, it was OK, but it was not what I was expecting, and sat very uncomfortably when considered from the point of view of the relationships portrayed (a fact that you barely acknowledged).

In particular, I wonder, are you happy with the final state of affairs?  Is it a sacrifical kindness to the human race, or is it in fact the cowards way out?  Poets and storytellers have for years told us that love is worth giving up your power and self, and in the end dying for, but perhaps you disagree.

Yours,

Someone who wishes you’d made good on your promises.

P.S.  *SPOILERS FROM NOW ON* I’ve been trying to work out the ancient god with the hawk association.  Mars was an obvious one, but that doesn’t work so well, with the comparative weakness compared to the other character.  In fact, if anything, the other character fits Mars better, because of the lightning association and similarity of name.  I have been considering Prometheus, since he had a hawk eat his liver every day for a long time, and was merely a lesser titan rather than a god, and famous for helping the human race, but perhaps that experience would put him off eagles.  Zeus was strongly associated with Eagles, but again doesn’t have the characteristic concern for humanity and comparative weakness - perhaps I’d be better off thinking of native American, or celtic mythologies.

Jon Stewart suggested that the drunk superhero making a mess of things was a metaphor for the USA. That’s an interesting take, but wouldn’t that make the other character a metaphor for Russia? I’m struggling enough with the idea of spin doctor as good guy without trying to cram sexed up iraq dossiers into that mix.

Knowing that there was a twist part way through was enough to enable me to guess pretty much what it was.  There were a lot of lingering shots that did a good job of showing that a history existed, although some of the actions and reactions didn’t seem all that believable in retrospect.

The key rule about “becoming mortal” doesn’t make a whole heap of sense to me, except perhaps as a metaphor for love making you vulnerable (but that really doesn’t mesh well with the end) - at about that point in the film, a lot of information that seems quite arbitrary is introduced.  Perhaps it could have been worked in more smoothly.  “We were made that way” raises more questions that it answers, and makes me doubt the motives of the person saying it (but perhaps that’s because of my recent acquaintance with Wanted). Also, is the slight alusion to a “them” who always come for Hancock just some unclarity, or is there some sinister force acting through history for his destruction?

Dear Wanted,

I had to think for a while about what it was I didn’t like about you, but I think I worked it out.

Soliloquy.  There’s a reason that breaking the fourth wall with an inane rant to the viewer is frowned on.  That’s because it’s almost always a bad idea.  You might think you’re being edgy and modern, but lets face it, you’re no Fight Club.  That was a film that could carry off the soliloquy.  The opening of Swordfish played with the whole idea beautifully.  Instead, your tone was closer to tediously moralising American dramas where the voice simply emphasises the action.  Desperate Housewives, or Scrubs.  Redundant and juvenile. Childrens cartoons stopped having the character explain the moral of the story to the audience at the end of the film because it was patronising, not because it was some genius secret that got “lost”.

Oh, and tackling the whole question of “interpretation” and significance of holy texts is a nuanced issue, and if you’re going to make it your main storyline, you should be able to do better than “Oh, let me show you how you to interpret this, and then never let me catch you doing it again”.  Loom of fate, great idea, shame you never found a way to make it make sense in the story (although I do love the idea of a Holy Text that turns on its disciples).  In the end, the message is very confused, is the holy text right?   Should it be questioned?  The hero doesn’t know, or even really care, he just somehow thinks that killing lots of people and humiliating the only other people in his life who meant anything to him (flawed though they are) is somehow him “taking his life back”.

You’ll notice that I don’t mind your flashy stunts and ridiculous fight scenes.  These are the kinds of things I go to see action films for.  I’m a sucker for the regular Jo with the office job who has hidden potential.  I like shooting bullets out of the air (although you did perhaps do that one too many times). I think most office workers would love to discover they had hidden powers and destiny, and the reason they can’t quite seem to take their life seriously is because they, like Neo were always destined for a life of badassery.

But to make a good action foreground, there has to be a respect for the normal everyday life in the background.  Yes, the hero doesn’t fit there, he has transcended it, but the people in it should be more than mere charicatures.  Any true hero must be able to conquer his inner demons as well as his myriad outer foes.  No real resolution is achieved, and at the end the hero is just as much of a loser as he always was at relationships.

Which also makes me wonder about how easy it apparently is to hire a small gang of people for a job that obviously requires their own death. I’d get to the bit where the new boss was visualising where my body would fall so that he can draw a big X on the ground in the right place and I’d be saying “actually, I’m not so sure about this job”.

On top of that, bizarre train crashes and shootings of strangers says that normal (poor) peoples lives don’t matter, in fact, even their bodies just mysteriously disappear. Where’s the sense of tragedy that even the worst of the action films normally tries to conjure up. In the end the hero has massacred hundreds of innocent bystanders for no reason, lost every single one of his friends and family (most of whom he’s killed himself) and yet thinks he can lecture me about doing something with my life.

His moral degeneracy is highlighted by the fact that in order to allow the audience to accept what he’s doing, they get the justification for it before they know he does it, while he does it without even knowing the justification.

I can’t remember a more depressing moment in a film than when the hero realises he’s rich.  Is that really all it takes for all of societies veneer to come off?  Was there nothing good at all behind his thoughtful facade?  It wasn’t even discovering his talents or his identity or his family that made him happy and gave him the power to stand up to those around him - it was discovering he was rich.  That’s a pretty miserable view of human life.

Your twists and turns were welcome, although not particularly surprising.  It was fairly clear early on the rough track that you were heading down (if you want to surprise me, you’re going to have to work harder than casting Samuel L in a role like that).  And I want to say, if you’re ever thinking of another scene, and it contains the words “I am your father”, then you need to stop and rethink what you’re getting yourself into.  Search your feelings, you know it to be true.

There were moments of beauty, and crackling action, but in the end, you had no soul, the message you claimed was a lie, the violence was empty, the characters were flat, and their choices bizzare.

I can enjoy mindless just as much as anyone, but there are limits.

Yours,

Someone who believes you could be so much more.