Capsules: the spider, the suit, the white girl

Some capsule reviews: The Amazing Spider-Man, Men in Black III and Snow White and the Huntsman.

Coming barely ten years after the release of the first Sam Raimi-directed Spider-Man with Tobey Maguire, Marc Webb’s (500 Days of Summer) more focused and less corny reboot casts Andrew Garfield as the webslinger/Peter Parker and Emma Stone as love interest Gwen Stacey. The usually comedic Rhys Ifans co-stars as the villainous Dr Curt Connors, a colleague of Peter’s late father who busies himself with controversial cross-species biological research. While I had no issue with Maguire’s Parker, Garfield is more adept at being socially awkward, and Webb doesn’t pile on the close-ups like Raimi did. While the new film lacks iconic imagery (consider the first trilogy’s upside down kiss in the rain), as a whole it is dramatic enough and sufficiently humorous to stand as an equal to the earlier films. While I cannot comment on its cinematic showing, The Amazing Spider-Man looks incredible in Blu-Ray, with the main creature effects surprisingly convincing. Despite their familiarity, the characters don’t feel worn out and even the obligatory swinging sequences have a freshness to them. Rumours about the film’s lack of ingenuity are definitely exaggerated.

There’s always been something cute about the Men in Black universe. The series offers numerous interesting and repulsive aliens secreting all sorts of oozes and juices, and the very existence of planet Earth is always in the balance, yet it’s all so light and breezy that one can only smile at the entire endeavour. Between wanton destruction and ludicrous human-alien interaction, the films have always felt, appropriately, like a pre-Ben 10 era Saturday morning cartoon. For those who still find this rather science-less science fiction universe appealing, Men in Black 3 is a highly enjoyable comedic romp again featuring Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones as J and K (returning with director Barry Sonnenfield). With some time travel thrown in for good measure, MIB 3 brings the series to a satisfying end by addressing a recurring theme while delivering the usual mix of one-liners and alien designs. The highlight of the film, though, is Josh Brolin’s young Agent K; Brolin does a perfect version of a younger Tommy Lee Jones. For fans of the series only.

Director Rupert Sanders’s retelling of the fairy tale in Snow White and the Huntsman makes its heroine into a feisty, battle-ready female (played by a decidedly alive Kristen Stewart) as Snow White joins forces with the good natured dwarves (including, to my eternal delight, Ian McShane) to overthrow the rule of the evil queen, played by Charlize Theron. The beautiful Oscar winning actress makes the queen-cum-stepmother creature of vanity, desperation and despair, and it’s the highlight of the film. Chris Hemsworth co-stars as the titular Huntsman, and just when it looks like it’s going to become a romantic epic, Sanders keeps things unexpectedly sombre, keeping the emphasis on moody fantasy rather than glittering heroes and their chins. 

Snow White and the Huntsman is a dark (isn’t everything these days?) version of the tale that benefits mostly from Theron’s presence, an array of impressive visual effects and a lively pace that make for an exciting if somewhat familiar adventure. I have to say though, if I have to see one more shot of a VFX monsters opening its jaws and screaming into the camera I will not be able to stifle the yawn.

Gods Will

 

Is Prometheus the dark side of both intelligent design and evolution? Where not only the creator(s) are dismayed by their doomed creation, but where organic life itself somewhat inevitably leads to great destruction? It all starts quite amiably, with a sense of wonder; scientists discover proof that numerous cave paintings on earth actually provide a star map to a location where, if their theory is correct, humanity will find its celestial origins. After this brief exposition, an assortment of characters – including the optimistic, spiritual Shaw (Noomi Rapace), her lover and evolusionist Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green), pilot Janek (Idris Elba) and corporate representative Vickers (Charlize Theron) – arrive at their destination, LV-233 (I think. Don’t mail me about this, please.)

Part of the crew, and indeed their guardian to a great extent, is the android David (Michael Fassbender), who learns ancient languages and watches Lawrence of Arabia while his human counterparts hibernate in cryogenic sleep. Once they’re on the planet, events occur that make it clear to the researchers that their lives may be in imminent danger.

Prometheus is officially the long-awaited prequel to Alien, and both are directed by the same director, Ridley Scott, who was also responsible for Blade Runner and Black Hawk Down. Scott is a great visualist, and the primary interest given to set design and aesthetics is clear in most of his films (Matchstick Men is a notable exception). But to simply refer to Prometheus as the Alien prequel is to invite misconceptions and anticipate dashed expectations: this is not an Alien movie. Prometheus is an expansion and exploration of the universe established in the 1979 film, but it differs considerably from the rest of the films occupying that universe. It isn’t the haunted house story of the first film, nor the military survival horror of the second film (James Cameron’s finest hour). It follows that Alien Resurrection is also far removed from Scott’s film; of all these other entries, Prometheus is closest to the unfairly maligned Alien 3 with its emphasis on claustrophobia and nihilism.

Prometheus is something else entirely, a film unconcerned with any aliens as we've come to know them, using the first film’s “space jockey” discovery that opens that film to establish a link between the movies. Another link is the android presence, which features in all the films. Fassbender is masterful as David, following in the footsteps of Ian Holm and Lance Henriksen. Another link is on the series’ emphasis on birth, which here makes for one of the film’s nightmarish highlights.

If Prometheus isn’t an Alien movie, it is certainly science fiction with an emphasis on hostility corporate ethics, much like the other entries in the series. To discuss the film and its themes in detail would require a substantive essay filled with spoilers. Instead of doing that, I will rather point you towards some of the interesting pieces already in existence about the film. What I can say, is that I am firmly in the pro-Prometheus camp (Scott’s visual design is striking, even if his science is not above suspicion at all times and if his characters sound a bit cardboard at times). If it is a flawed film - its final scene demonstrates a lack of imagination and a sense of overkill simultaneously – it’s a fascinating failure at worst.

For some absorbing reading, go to Bilge Ebiri’s piece at http://ebiri.blogspot.com/2012/06/this-is-not-prometheus-thinkpiece.html and take it from there.

Playing with Fire

Based on the first entry in Suzanne Collins's popular teen lit trilogy, The Hunger Games tells the story of a futuristic America, retitled Panem, as it exists in the aftermath of a failed revolution. Panem consists of various districts, each responsible for a particular resource or industry, but the Capitol is only place that benefits from the Districts' labour. To remind the District inhabitants of their socio-political place and financial vulnerability, the Capitol hosts the annual Hunger Games as a ritualised public execution display. Two tributes are selected to represent each District in a fight to the death where only a sole survivor out of the initial 24 can claim victory.

Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) finds herself in a nearly impossible position as her younger sister Prim (Willow Shields) is selected as tribute for District 12. Almost instantly Katniss volunteers to take Prim's place, a perfectly legal arrangement; she is soon joined on stage by Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), a soft-looking young man who will become a great ally or a formidable enemy. Together they set off to the Capitol where the game makers, other contestants and Panem's President Snow (Donald Sutherland) prepare to launch the 74th iteration of the formalised culling.

This being based on teen lit and aimed at a mainly teen market, there is a love triangle in play as well, as Katniss leaves behind a childhood friend and possible romantic interest, Gale (Liam Hemsworth), as she sets off for the Games. 

For most part, The Hunger Games is a competently made, involving tale of survival and propaganda in a world where centralised power serves to oppress everyone else. Jennifer Lawrence is good as Katniss, who's been touted in popular media since the film's release as a "new type of female hero", which I frankly do not see. Katniss is able to look after herself mentally and physically while acting as a surrogate mother to certain characters - didn't Ripley do all this in Aliens? In any event, Lawrence is the best thing on screen, which is good since the character is in nearly every scene. With the exception of Sutherland's small performance and some fun with Woody Harrelson as alcoholic mentor figure Haymitch, none of the actors get as much out of their characters as Lawrence does. Certainly, it is gratifying to have an active female protagonist on screen for the change, "active" at least when compared the catatonic mope-and-frown of Bella Swan in that other teen lit series.  

The film has been criticised for being "obviously inspired" by the blood soaked Miike-shenanigans of Battle Royale, but the films are so different it is unfair to play the later version off of the first release. Both films owe a great deal to Stephen King's Running Man in any case. Any discussion of originality is pointless and the films are different enough to appreciate on specific levels. 

The Hunger Games has some issues. On a technical level, the film has some terrible CGI, including the worst fake flames I've seen in ages, as well as some unconvincing backgrounds that make Gladiator's murky backgrounds look positively classy. Also, this is another film where much of the action is in dire need of a tripod. Too much of the action is shot and edited in such a way that you can never really see what's going on, apparently because director Gary Ross believed such shaky cam filming would result in a greater sense of urgency. It has the opposite effect. 

Structurally, I found the first part of the film (before any of the real action kicks off) more compelling than the action-packed second part set during the Games. Admittedly, I may have been put off by a completely ridiculous make-up effect practiced by one of the Games contestants. Also, there are too many coincidental occurrences which altogether means that there is a main character that never really gets its hands dirty as far as the brutality of the Games is concerned. The same may have happened in the book, but the book was more successful in convincing the reader that things would work out the way it does. 

Thematically, the film covers familiar ground: a rather totalitarian society divided by income and sheer physical force. This is old school Marxist stuff but it makes for fine viewing provided that you don't expect Brazil. To be sure, the book handles the theme better within its medium than the film does as a film. The target audience will watch the film for the spectacle in any case, not for its social criticism. 

Of MMA, Cape Town, Blue Teeth and Demonic Possession

I hate not being able to update as often as I’d like to. Every so often, I post a review round-up on what I’ve seen on DVD recently. DVD has been my saving grace when I’m unable to steal away three hours (driving to the cinema, sitting through trailers, queuing to buy a ticket, actually watching an average-length film) to see a movie, and I’ve caught up on a few fan favourites the past while. 

MMA, or mixed martial arts, has been gaining popular appeal over the past years in South Africa (where etv broadcasts EFC events), and it’s also a prominent source of income and entertainment in parts of India. Many studios are capitalising on MMA’s popularity, delivering low budget, story-less movies where underdogs fight champions for some major reward. Gavin O’Connor’s Warrior is the polar opposite of all those movies and their cheap thrills, an emotionally involving family drama meshed with the combat film. It emphasises notions of honour and integrity as present in not only physical combat but also domestic life. 

Tommy Conlon (Tom Hardy) unexpectedly shows up at the home of his father, Paddy (grizzled Nick Nolte). It is clear that there is bad blood between them; Paddy is a recovering alcoholic, and Tommy has little faith in his father’s sobriety. Yet he wants Paddy to train him for the major Sparta MMA tournament with $5 million as the grand prize. 

Meanwhile, Brendan Conlon (Joel Edgerton) and his wife (Jennifer Morrison) are close to foreclose on their home. Brendan’s teaching job doesn’t pay enough to cover the house payments, especially since they had some major medical expenses as their son fell ill. While he left that life behind some time ago, Brendan rejoins a local gym in preparation for the Sparta tournament that could help him to save his family. It is a narrative inevitability that, somewhere, Tommy’s path will cross with Brendan’s. 

Warrior is an accomplished companion piece to The Fighter, covering similar thematic ground and with striking scenes of physical combat. It has some issues though; for example, the film fails to tie up a loose end regarding Tommy's cause for fighting. In addition, Nick Nolte’s Oscar nominated performance is highly overrated. This is the type of character Nolte plays in his sleep; asking him to play the recovering alcoholic absent father is like asking Denzel Washington to play a calm and reluctant African American action hero. Nolte can be a superb actor; his 1997 feature for Paul Schrader, the emotionally shredding Affliction, not only showcases Nolte at his career best, it is one of the best male performance I’ve ever seen. 

Speaking of Denzel Washington: Safe House is an utterly conventional, derivative seen-it-all-before piece of action in need of well written characters, a story and some emotional hooks to anchor all the kinetic energy. Washington is Tobin Frost, a much wanted black market information dealer in possession of some very important intel, who is apprehended and placed in custody in a CIA safe house in Cape Town, where a rather bored Matt Weston (Ryan Reynolds) runs the show (which means, he checks the computers now and again and bounces a ball against a wall). 

Some bad guys quickly discover where Frost is being held and before you can say “Table Mountain” Frost and Weston are thrown together in a situation neither is adequately prepared for. Director Daniel Espinosa keeps the action moving at a rather frenetic pace and only interrupts it with tedious scenes with Weston’s girlfriend (Nora Arnezeder). Capetonians can play “Name that Landmark” while watching but everyone who’s seen some contemporary action films will find themselves yawning as Safe House goes through its paces, playing it very safe indeed. Not even that great character actor Brendan Gleeson or Vera Farmiga’s hypnotic eyes can redeem this inconsequential gun-fluff. 

Not since Shaun of the Dead has a Britflick with genre roots shaken up geek culture as writer-director Joe Cornish’s Attack the Block has. In this class-conscious alien invasion film, a bunch of youthful petty criminals lead by the assured Moses (John Boyega) find themselves in a perilous situation as alien creatures attack their working class housing estate in South London. Realising that their homes are all they’ve got, the boys stand together to defeat the extraterrestrial foe. 

Attack the Block is a well paced genre film with an unexpected subversive edge - and brutality! - that is somewhat kneecapped by a familiar ending and some near impenetrable slang (I had to watch the film with the subtitles on so as to make sense of the constant "bloods", "fams" and "truths"). While it’s not quite the rejuvenating and original work many claim it to be, it is certainly required viewing for genre aficionados. Nick Frost's appearance as Ron is a particular treat, and the film generally succeeds where Scott Pilgrim vs The World failed: to functionally integrate a variety of pop culture references and appreciations that strengthen its own existence, not point to its artificiality.  

Another genre film that works very well for most part until it drowns in a completely misguided ending is the mockumentary demonic possession tale The Last Exorcism, produced by Hostel’s Eli Roth and directed by Daniel Stamm. The film stars Patrick Fabian as a charismatic pastor, Cotton Marcus, who has preached the gospel from a young age. This means that he has spent years developing his craft and perfecting the tricks of the trade, knowing exactly what is expected of him when he is asked to conduct an exorcism for a family in Ivanwood A documentary film crew accompanies him on his mission, which gives the film a legitimate reason to have a home-made, shaky look. 

The Last Exorcism is successful at slowly suggesting that the possession case Marcus is dealing with in this instance is the real thing, only to show us something that in turn undercuts that impression and leaves us with a tantalising ambiguity, similar to how The Exorcism of Emily Rose drew viewers into its story. As good as the first half the film is, the second half falters; firstly, it doesn’t heighten its pace or sense of urgency as much as it could, and secondly, the ending is so bizarrely out of place it’s as if it were spliced in from a different film. Here the weakness of the mockumentary horror is laid bare, demonstrating that it is a format that can only accommodate so much ‘spontaneous’ material in its specific limitations.  

Memories, dreams, violations

 

The skin is the human body’s largest organ: it presents a thin but mostly effective barrier against the world outside, protecting the other organs, muscles and tissue gathered inside. It’s nonetheless prone to scratches, boils, laceration and tearing. The relative fragility of the skin seems to bother Dr Ledgard (Antonio Banderas) quite a bit. His research, which takes him into transgenesis and some other forms of unethical practices, is focused on fabricating a type of skin that can resist most forms of damage. He has a human test subject, the breathtakingly beautiful Vera (Elena Anaya), with whom he seems to have a Stockholm-like relationship. And when he comes home at night after presenting his research to sceptical and concerned peers, he knows that she’s waiting for him: he watches her on a large screen that shows his subject reading, doing yoga or looking back.

Sscreenshot source: www.io9.com

Pedro Almodovar’s The Skin I Live In is a dark mad scientist story, and any familiarity what that trope warns us that the scientist’s monster struggles with its loyalty towards its master. The ambiguity of the relationship between master and subject here is very stimulating, as power can shift to either side given specific circumstances. Ledgard even has a henchwoman, Marilia (Marisa Paredes), whose mature, lined beauty contrasts with the smoothness of Vera’s perfect face. Almodovar’s film is all lines, smoothness and surfaces, both in what we see happening on screen in deliberately designed compositions and also in how the film is cut together. It’s a film about control, desire and the filmmaker’s love for the medium, in particular its voyeuristic and surveillance-based capacities.

In dealing with control and desire as lived and constructed by the mad scientist, The Skin I Live In is a thriller made by someone who understands the basic formula of the genre and its conventions and knows as well how to shape these patterns and forms to his advantage. The master behind All About My Mother and Talk To Her has been making movies about women (and this current film again evidences the director’s adoration of the female form) for over thirty years, and his eye is confident and assured. The first half of the film inserts the viewer into the film in media res, and the plot culminates in a significant event before taking the viewer into the characters' past. In this part of the film we learn something about the doctor’s reasons for conducting his research, and it is here that Almodovar takes, I think, considerable pleasure in destabilising expectations and characters.

The Skin I Live In is a film of many pleasures. It’s melodramatic at times, chilling at others. There is some nudity, some violence, and a tiger who licks a television screen. Banderas delivers an intense performance, while Anaya seems to be replacing Penelope Cruz, if only for a while, as Almodovar’s siren. I haven’t even touched yet on the idea of gender – or on related ideas of identity – which is somewhat of a magnificent obsession for the filmmaker. I think it’ll suffice to say that this film will lead to some lively discussions on the matter. 

 

The Skin I Live In is visually sumptuous and thematically adventurous filmmaking, with an ending that would seem forced in lesser films but feels perfect in this one. The film’s perversions are provocative and beautifully executed. I’ve spent two days remembering and revisiting the film, and I must admit: I am in love.

Seconds

Much like director Duncan Jones’s debut “Moon” (2009), his second film “Source Code” is, for better and for worse, a rather low budget and old-fashioned science-fiction story. In the opening scenes of “Source Code”, Colter (Jake Gyllenhaal) wakes up on a train en route to Chicago. Across from him sits a complete stranger, Christina (Michelle Monaghan), who calls him Steven and speaks to him as if they’ve known each other for some time. Colter tries to make sense of it all; he is a soldier and supposed to be in Afghanistan, so what is he doing on the train? 

Someone spills a drink on his shoes. The conductor punches his card. Minutes later, there’s a powerful explosion and the train goes up in flames. Everyone dies, but Colter wakes up in a crude-looking pod of some kind. There’s a video screen, which is how Goodwin (Vera Farmiga) communicates with him and tells him that it is his mission to find out who blew up the train and why. Colter has to keep going back to the event, into the “source code”, until he finds the answers. One of the characters, Dr Rutledge (Jeffrey Wright), refers to what Colter’s doing as time re-assignment, not time travel. I’m not sure what the difference is, especially considering how the movie ends. For that matter, the ending goes much too far in what it’s trying to accomplish. 

In its rather short running time, the movie addresses a lot: fate and predestination; life purpose; sacrifice. In helping these themes to manifest, Gyllenhaal is solid and Farmiga is sublime – note how striking she appears the first time we see Goodwin on the video screen. Monaghan has a bit of a thankless part, trying to convince us that a man might be convinced to fall in love with her based on very little. You know that when someone starts alluding to “finding themselves” there may not be much of a future for the two of you. Monaghan looks adorable, I suppose, and she does what she can. 

With its brevity, fast pace and compelling story that altogether constitute considerable entertainment value, the film is never more than popcorn entertainment, and it’s not the type of film you return to for repeat viewings. A major problem is the one-dimensional villain. The movie goes to such trouble to almost explain everything that happens I had to wonder why there was no meat to the villain. And would the film have really been poorer without the obligatory romantic subplot?

Planetary alignment

Eight years after its release, David Twohy’s “Pitch Black” remains a small, effective space thriller. Revisiting the film recently, I found that the reasons for why the movie works are simple but potent (possible spoiler warning):

- a creepy antihero in the form of Richard B. Riddick, a character that didn’t know he was about to launch a small cult with this film (Riddick has the movie’s best lines);
- Riddick’s eye shine, a gimmick that enables him (and us) to see in the dark while other characters simply stumble on;
- a sympathetic female lead, an anti-Final Girl in a way, in accomplished Aussie actress Rhoda Mitchell who serves as Riddick’s counter;
- alien creatures that are wonderfully predatory although the creature design lacks some imagination;
- deaths don’t always occur on screen, employing the “less is more-rule” of scary movies that work well;
- a clear setup that is SF simplicity itself: crash survivors on desert planet need to get off of said planet but they encounter hungry aliens that swarm during eclipses (I guess this almost makes the film a survival horror but it’s too SF for that to be completely the case).
A pity that “Chronicles of Riddick” ended up being bloated and indulgent, a far cry from this lean, snappy escape movie.

Of course, the best Riddick story is the one told in “Escape from Butcher Bay”. (I have not seen "Dark Fury".)

Township

With hype strong enough to split the atom, “District 9” arrives in South African theatres following a blistering opening in the United States. Not only has it already proven to be a highly profitable film, but the critics adore it. At CHUD, Devin Faraci announced it as one of the best films of its type of the decade (10 out of 10), while HitFix’s Drew McWeeny (aka Moriarty from AICN) likened his experience of the film to watching “Robocop” for the first time. Furthermore, there’s lots of award talk and acclaim for star Sharlto Copley, who makes his acting debut in this film, and deserves every positive comment allocated to his performance.

Before I review the film, I’d like to quickly get this out of the way: “District 9” is not a South African film, just like “Tears of the Sun” is not a Nigerian film and “Black Hawk Down” isn’t a Somali war movie. Like those films, “District 9” is an American movie. It’s directed by Neill Blomkamp, who is South African born and, according to some of the trades, based the move on the apartheid atrocities he’d witnessed. Oh please. Blomkamp is now 29, which means that he started seeing and noticing things outside of his own individual child universe by 1989 or 1990 – two years before Madiba’s release, and a mere four years before South African became a democracy.

But I digress.

“District 9” is produced by Peter Jackson; the effects were mostly handled by a shop in Canada; the film is modelled according to a familiar pattern (not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just saying). I repeat, it’s not a South African film – it’s funding is one hundred percent American. Now let’s stop calling it a great South African movie. It’s not South African and it’s no masterpiece.

The highest compliment I can give “District 9” is to call it a solid popcorn movie with a social conscience which employs seamless visual effects and a stunning performance by Copley to tell the story of a pencil pusher put in charge of a dangerous alien relocation program. Blomkamp knows what he’s doing – he probably knows Joseph Camopbell off by heart - and Jason Cope’s work as the prawn(s) is near unbelievable. It’s the kind of SF actioner that effectively adds to the body horror subgenre and ends up being a memorable mainstream cinema experience.

Now, here be spoilers. I assume that you’ve seen the film from this point on.

Wikus gets sprayed with an alien juice in the film’s first act, and you just know the payoff of that scene is close. He starts transforming into a prawn which enables him to use alien weapon technology (which is never used by the aliens themselves? Not even against the Nigerians?) This obviously creates a rift between him and his wife, poorly played by Vanessa Haywood, who sticks out as a sore thumb in the film’s cast. If Blomkamp and cowriter Terri Tatchell had completely cut this character out and made Wikus a bachelor, nothing that is essential to the character or the story would have changed. All in all, I think Blomkamp, who clearly knows his genre, could’ve used a different shot than his current final shot of the now fully transformed Wikus folding metal flowers on a scrapheap. It was almost “Wall-E”-esque, and didn’t quite fit.

For all of its apparent originality, there are still many clichés in “District 9”. For one, there’s the one-dimensional uber-villain who does nothing but grimace and frown and swear. This is the type of character that exists simply for audience gratification and the payoff they experience when he is literally torn to bits by the prawns. The film also uses the “other beings like eating quirky stuff” rule, which here means that the aliens like cat food. Apparently they also like human flesh, so what gives? Why cat food? If you want to make the film more 'South African' – to an extent – why not make them eat marog or pap?

I suspect that the discussions on how good “District 9” actually is will split fanboys from other filmatists. This happened just last year with “The Dark Knight”, where if you for a second let on that it is not The Best Film of All Time, you were verbally assaulted and lambasted for a long while. Usually, fanboys know a lot about Their Film, and they truly dearly love it, but they can’t put it in any kind of context, which is why they can usually foam at the mouth at you when you criticise Their Film, but not much else.

You wish all commercial movie enterprises were made like this: rather cheap but great looking, emotionally involving and with numerous sequel possibilities. The story is simple but quite captivating, starting out in a documentary approach which works like a charm until it’s quietly abandoned for a more straight forward storytelling device where we are aligned exclusively with our hero, Wikus van der Merwe (Copley). It’s a more layered story than anything Emmerich could envision. “District 9” is at times brutal, touching and heroic. Of all the possible comparisons already made, I can’t get past thinking of the film as a distant cousin to Verhoeven’s “Starship Troopers”. Things go splat there, too. Much has been made of the film’s social commentary (apartheid, xenophobia) but seeing as the film is not at all subtle about its message, one shouldn’t over emphasise those themes over what happens to Wikus, and how his journey gives new life to the aliens-on-earth SF subgenre.

Do you want to know more? www.wikus.co.za

The charm of Ed Wood, filmmaker

Ed Wood’s film “Plan 9 from Outer Space” may be the worst film ever made according to dozens of move resources, but having finally seen it I can set your mind at ease: it is far from the worst film ever made. The film has attained an almost mythical position in cinema history, and I can see how multiple viewings can provide great pleasures. Viewed with some critical perspective, “Plan 9”’s campiness is appealing in the way the “Thing from Oozing Swamp Beach” might be, and it is enjoyed, even valued, as a product of its time and master. To be sure, “Plan 9” is no “Citizen Kane” (Tim Burton’s “Ed Wood” features a delightful scene between Wood (Johnny Depp) and Orson Welles (Angus McFadyen) but its badness has been grossly exaggerated. Put this film next to “The Hottie and the Nottie”, or “Freddie Got Fingered”, or most Meg Ryan films and “Plan 9” still looks like the film with the most potential. In 20 years, “Plan 9” will still be part of the collective cinema consciousness, where all the others mentioned above… won’t.

“Plan 9” is about grave robbers from outer space, trouble with the sun, a dead husband and wife, actual war footage spliced between staged scenes, using Bela Lugosi’s unused footage for the film (Lugosi, a horror cinema legend, passed away before filming commenced), hubcaps to present flying saucers and dialogue so inept and so badly delivered that you cannot but help remember parts of it:
“Aliens attacked a town. Sure, it’s a small town, but one with people. People now dead!” (paraphrased).

May “Glen or Glenda” soon cross my path.