Let's Venture into Darkness: Alien

Through the two movies that we have watched from director Ridley Scott, I sense a fondness for the foreign. Just as Blade Runner presented an unknowable future on earth, so Alien shows this same future universe in the midst of outer space, a place renowned precisely because there is an unlimited amount of unknown.  From its very onset, Alien takes on an aura of darkness, and very little light or clarity is clearly discernible. The opening scene shows a cluttered and dirty space ship, in which there are many randomly tossed objects throughout. This “retro-industrial” spaceship is a scattered set with many blind corners – in which an attention to detail was given not to make the spaceship perfect, but to make it imperfect and disordered. Not to mention that the title of the movie, and what the movie itself revolves around, is “Alien,” which is a word that can be defined as foreign, unfamiliar, and strange.

The question that then rises in the movie is what do we do with the unknown? Do we go on a trek to discover and study it? Do we fear it? What if it is perfect? What if it is absolutely horrendous? Surely, jumping headfirst into the unknown can bring on emotions of anticipation, anxiety, and even curiosity. When the spaceship lands on the foreign planet, the one word that comes to mind to describe it is darkness. This unfamiliar planet is cold, dark, and filled with a white layer of smog, making it difficult to make out any clear images, because if we could see any light or objects, that would probably ruin the mood of fear and uncertainty presented as a recurring theme in the movie.

The tendencies of fear and the unknown are that the more that we think about them, the more likely it is that their presence will grow in our lives. The progress of science has been a never-ending desire of discovering the mysterious – it is about organizing the disordered and cluttered.  Alien presents to us a growing obsession with this “perfect” creature that is to be taken back to earth to be studied. As we follow the alien throughout the film, we easily realize that its image begins to literally grow larger, and the crewmembers become increasingly obsessed with finding it. Perhaps the alien grows larger as a representation of its presence becoming more important in each character’s life – they are fearful, or revenge-seeking, or just merely curious – and they allow this unfamiliar alien to overcome them – literally and figuratively… but mostly literally.

Surely, the unknown is something that is fearful. The alien essentially kills all of the crewmembers, sparing one survivor. While watching the movie, I felt anticipation the entire time, considering the next victim in this utterly chaotic plot. This film combined those feelings of fear and anticipation that accompany what is unknown – doing so by making us feel these feelings directly. It reminded me of the drive of human nature to make sense of the vast world around us, a quest that is sometimes accompanied by dire and dangerous consequences. 

Defying Mortality: Sunshine

This morning I woke up, and there it was, seeping through the blinds of my window and making its way into the living room of my apartment – this incomparably bright light was an indication that my day had begun. The source of this light, the sun, has an ironically familiar and mundane presence in my life – I have gotten used to it. However, if our diamond of a sun were to vanish, this occurrence would seem to be a statement from a supernatural source that perhaps existing life is no longer supposed to be so. The movie, Sunshine, directed by Danny Boyle boldly placed viewers directly in the midst of this hypothetical position. The film presents, to our ever-so surprise and absolutely bewildered astonishment, a notion that humans would not be able to humbly accept such a situation as the end of our existence. Who would have thought? We will grasp onto every last second, week, month, or year of life we can lay our hands on – and the absence of the ultimate energy source driving all life forms cannot get in our way. In a sense, this persistence is venerable; however, this manner of potentially twisting nature presents a few feelings of worry, disaster, and even horror at the possibilities.

The two-thirds disaster portion of the film was almost inevitable – in a mission such as the one presented in the movie, I would be a bit shocked if there weren’t some extremely complicated hurdles to jump. The dilemmas in the beginning of this film progress from bad to worse, and the uncertainty behind the action is in full-throttle. The past reality of the failure of Icarus I looms in the air, and it is only the motivation of the crew members that keeps me holding onto the chance of success in the movie. Each member of the cast, besides perhaps Harvey, reminded me how strongly the world did not want to accept the defeat of mankind. After each character died, I was disturbed but somewhat reassured because of the persistence of the crewmembers to continue on – and I found this character demeanor to be a significant element in the overall effect created by the movie.

A very powerful point in the movie occurred during the conversation between Cassie and Capa directly in front of the payload, when Cassie articulates a key question: “Does it scare you?” From this point on while watching the film, I held onto this question – these words. It wasn’t a notion of whether or not Capa had faith that the hurdles could be overcome. The question asked was whether Capa was scared, whether the audience was terrified by the mission presented in the film, whether there was horror in the possibility that man has the capability of creating a new star from a dying one to create “the big bang on a small scale” – because Cassie was. I believed that this aspect of fear was presented well in the movie after Pinbacker so slyly entered Incarus II – consequently, the film was all horror. Whether we wanted to experience it or not, the film forced us to associate the mission with horror – through the chases after the crewmembers, the bloodshed at every corner, and the death of every last member, we felt the load of the cost that came with twisting nature and attempting to escape mortality, and it wasn’t at all pretty.

There were countless aspects of the movie that contributed to the psychological and emotional states of the viewers as it was experienced. From controlling the use of certain colors to presenting microsecond flashes of the faces of old crewmembers, our audiovisual senses were intentionally manipulated to allow us to feel certain emotions and associate them with the plot and themes of the storyline. Personally, I felt that these elements were significant and worked throughout the movie to allow me to consciously and subconsciously  experience the movie for all the issues it presented about humanity, science, uncertainty, light, darkness, and life in general.

Inter-Cultural Humanity: Star Trek:Insurrection

Being fundamentally unfamiliar with the Star Trek series, I will attempt to naively speak of this film in the sense that I have perceived it while watching. Almost immediately, this film presents the recurring argument of natural versus mechanical that we have witnessed in so many of the films that we have watched. We are introduced to the Ba’ku village, which is obviously beautiful and pure at its foundation; we see Earth’s beauty and our minds merrily run around with the children playing through the paths. This village vaguely reminded me of Mount Olympus, home of the immortal Greek Gods – serene, peaceful, and all things natural (other than death, that is). Juxtaposed proximately alongside this tranquil village was the invisible observation deck of the federation intruding in. Once again, we are presented with a sort of negative outlook on the monsters that are equipped with gadgets and laser-beam transducers. The Ba'ku village shows that a potential method of solving the problems presented by Latour is by not creating our advanced monsters at all in the first place. 

Another representation of this technology is the chief operations officer and android, Data.  Exposed to the fully natural world of the Ba’ku, he is inherently unlike anybody else in the village, and on the ship for that matter. Precisely because of this, I believe, he was the perfect character to initiate the intrusion into the Ba’ku village. He is forgivable of his error because it was a blunder in programming and command that caused him to attack, and once again, he becomes his lovable character once the intrusion is over. Throughout the movie, Data shows his yearning to be more “human,” and his interaction with the child, Artim, shows this as he expresses his lack of a true childhood. At the resolution of the film, Data is more free, playing as a child would amongst the hay. Artim introduces Data to a more “human” culture of fun, and Data absorbs and carries this with him into the rest of his life. Data, however, has many more human characteristics than many of the other robot characters we have encountered in the other films we have watched. This serves as an alternate solution to Latour's issues of “loving our monsters” --  perhaps, and unfortunately, what it takes to be more sensitive to our monsters is making them more familiar to our culture and more similar to us in general. 

An intriguing element about Star Trek is that Data, the artificial life, is not the strangest and most unknown form of life in the film. The film actually presents many monsters that are essentially “real” but extremely unlike any species we have seen. Interestingly, the Ba’ku, the pure and highly venerable race in the film, is the group of individuals that was chosen to look most similar to humans. Despite how dissimilar these distinct groups appeared to the visible eye, they were considered variable races rather than entirely different species. Amongst humans, more genetic variation actually exists within races (80%) than between them (20%). This idea was depicted well in the movie, since the races that seemed so alien-like were actually related to one another to their core genetically. This relatedness presents the idea that the most obvious physical appearances cannot serve as the primary means to show what is actually in our DNA. Despite the battle between the Ba’ku and Son’a, this film presented a more united and joint depiction of the world and the many cultures and races that are present throughout our world.  

 

Levels of Reality: Brazil

In most normal films and television shows we watch, we find that reality and humanity are typically mimicked. There is order and societal rules that many of these works try to follow. However, it was difficult to identify this type of allusion to normalcy and order in the film Brazil, directed by Terry Gilliam. Perhaps this was the nature of the satire presented in the film and perhaps it was another element altogether, but from its onset, Brazil does not so much as claim to be a film of truth and credibility- much of it is presented as hypothetical, extreme, and exaggerated. Despite this superficiality, or even specifically because of it, the film draws us in and grabs our thoughts and we compare reality to the other ends of the spectrum – a feat that allows a deeper level of reflection. The shallowness directs our thoughts to its depth and commentary on those things which are “normal” and that we do see in everyday American life.

The movie quickly introduces Sam’s dreams, and we witness him soaring on top of the world with grandeur white wings. All of a sudden, Sam’s alarm clock goes off and we know we are once again placed in reality. As this movie proceeds, however, the distinction between this reality and his dreams become increasingly difficult to distinguish between. They merge and overlap to the point where Sam eventually makes his dreams his own reality when the burdens of his life become overbearing. Hidden in the depths of his thoughts, clearly apparent to the viewers, is Sam’s desire to be free from the shambles, society, and the government that is in constant control.

A reality in the movie that I found extremely strange was the characters’ obsession with the usually out-of-place ducts advertised as the must-haves of the century. The fact that these ducts could be customized to the individual customer was a testament to the need of the American generation to essentially be independent and unique, as the westernized culture promotes this type of individualism as a prideful quality. Furthermore, I found it questionable as to why Central Services had to even remotely be interested in, much less neurotically control, the ducts in the personal homes of all the residents in this movie. The government was much too involved in the personal home lives as much as the work lives of the characters in this film. This was further depicted by the manner in which the government officials barged into the Buttle home to grab the wrongly accused criminal, without much explanation or justification. The mistakes of Information Retrieval are hidden under the scenes as countless innocent lives come to an end, yet there is an ever-emphasized need to focus on the outer struggle of terrorism. It is also indicated by Jill that many of the government agents have probably never seen a true terrorist. The extent to which this terrorism was actually existent throughout the movie was questionable, as the source of the violence was never actually shown, but trusted by the citizens through the media presented to them.

A superficiality that is mentioned and portrayed a few times in this movie is that of plastic surgery. Sam’s mother is drowned in face-lifts, masks, and ultimate make-up sessions, even after her friend has experienced the negative impacts of this very same plastic surgery. The extent to which many of these women attempted to escape their age and live beyond their years was eye opening and downright ridiculous. As viewers, these exaggerations, although neither actually depicted what we see in our lives, present to us the reality that the natural course of life and age is not truly respected as we witness the ever-increasing impacts of aesthetic plastic surgery in our society.

Countless moments and predicaments proved to be a battle between what was reality and what was not. Amongst those already mentioned include the aggressive attitude of Lime towards Lowry versus his actually passive and agreeable behavior towards him. The dinner party at Sam’s mother’s home presents countless forms of relationships lacking in any genuine intercourse. The lack of Lowry’s ability to empathize with or speak to a devastated Mrs. Buttle also further represents the need for Lowry’s character to avoid and hide from his reality. These ironic encounters were amusing, and they almost encouraged us to laugh at the shallowness of many human behaviors, bringing to light the darkness that is present in humanity in a humorous and unforgiving manner.  

Let's Start with the End: WALL·E

Wall-e, directed by Andrew Stanton, is a tale of the future, the past, and the present – it is a direct and indirect commentary on our way of life, and it is a simplistic but ever-so-detailed story for both adults and children to experience together.  It presents a dystopian world where the Earth is a lifeless form of trash and humans are nowhere to be seen but lethargically embedded in space – but, alas, there is hope! An interesting element about this film is that it presents hope wherever there is downfall and humor even at the points of seemingly human ruin.  It provides a resolve of compromise and suggests that… together, we can. It truly is a Pixar film by definition.

The end credits animate this resolve clearly, as they show how robots can work with humans to create progress. It is ironic because this is the reason that electronics and mechanics were invented in the first place.  The issue arises, though, when we abuse our monsters, letting them go, or even criticize and fail to accept them. By providing these very robots with animated lives, Wall-e actually forces us to look beyond our overuse, appreciate these adorable robots, and contemplate the limits of our trash-throwing ways.

One element that is repeated at several points in the film to combine the pieces and construct a more holistic story is that of dance. When Eve is depicted to first arrive on Earth, amongst the dirt and ruins, we see her freely dancing besides the trash and brown mess. Once again, beyond the midpoint of the film, we’re delighted by a beautiful dance number presented to us by our very own Wall-e and Eve – this time, they are dancing together… in the middle of the vast darkness known as space.  Just after we are disgusted by the human characters on the Axiom that a little too familiarly remind us of ourselves, we witness this silent dance that speaks beyond what can be heard. It once again provides us with a bliss and happiness to counter what we have just seen. I appreciated how the creators of Wall-e decided to include this form of art juxtaposed with the darkness and social commentary. When the average person defines dance, he/she describes it as a form of expression and a bounding of unique cultures since it is present in countless forms and civilizations. Although the robotic dance movements clearly resemble that of humans, they have unique mannerisms to the limited flexibility of the robots, indicating their own culture. These dance scenes show the potential of unity, hope, freedom, and joy that can still come. The second dance serves to not only express the love between Wall-e and Eve but also awakens a love between the humans Mary and John. Beyond the darkness, once again we see some light.

In the commentary track, director Andrew Stanton indicates how he wanted to show the humans “waking up” from their sleep. Instead of desiring to present a permanent and unending doom, Wall-e shows that all that is needed is a nudge in the right direction, and once again, a fresh beauty can be rebuilt from the old ruins. By combining the past and the present, a few failures and mistakes, and love and hope, the film presents the possibilities of a boundless and fresh future that can potentially emerge.  

From the Bottom of the Heart: Metropolis

Put extremely simply, Metropolis is life. Not really – but here’s the argument: Thinking about writing a free-for-all entry about the film Metropolis, directed by Fritz Lang, allows my mind to wander left and then right and then back again. Not only does this film target the generation-old topics of religion and science, but also industrialization, history, art, culture, and even personalization down to human cognition. Hence, the gathering of my statement above- it delves into many aspects of life, both through explicit and implicit film context and also through the way in which the film was handled and has dispersed through the ages.

Here’s a quick example of this popularization that probably actually has nothing whatsoever to do with the actual content of my post (from a source discussing the illuminati theory):

      

photo from http://thedoggstar.com/end-times/robot-agenda-mark-beast

I found very interesting the psychological perspective to this film in combination with its perspective of industrialization and the Weimar Republic, which was the time period in which this film was made. Despite the economic instability and hyperinflation during the Weimar Republic in Germany, it was flourishing in art, architecture, music, and the like (successes partly due to Charles Dawes and Gustav Stresemann) (Why did the Weimer…). Much of this is presented in the film- through the booming industry and architecture depicted in the heart of the city depicted in the film. Behind the scenes of these beautiful buildings emitting pressures of steam and fog, however, were the individuals who worked for low pay and long hours without complete knowledge of why they were working or what the target was. In the movie, this consequently created a gap of separation between the elite and the laborers, or the sacrificial lambs of this industrial feat. This clear split between the wealthy and the workers was depicted by the stratification of levels in this film, the clothes that each group wore, and even by the names given to the areas.

The psychological ownership theory acknowledges that people are more likely to take better care of and maintain possessions that they own (Avey, 2009).  Furthermore, the cognitive-affective construct is defined as the state in which individuals feel as though the target of ownership or a piece of that target is theirs (Avey, 2009). Many workplaces try to instill a sense of partial ownership and responsibility for the overall target in their employees so that they will be able to generate more efficient outcomes. This idea of knowing about the target of the industry was completely lacking in the laborers in this film, further widening the gap between the industry owners and the laborers underneath. It was extremely interesting how this huge and exaggerated gap between the two groups was mediated at the end of this film, acknowledging that conciliation can occur. When referring to the “heart” as this mediator though, rather than simply relating it to the sympathy that executives should have, this could also mean instilling a passion and a sense of ownership in the workers as well, so that they are also able to invest in and put their “heart” in their work.

During the Weimar Republic, there was flourishing in the all types of art forms. Just as the dance and costuming of the machine “man” served as inspiration for later pop culture, so did the entire work as an art form serve as a basis for later science fiction films. The historical context adds an entirely different dimension to this film that was not as apparent in the other films we have watched, and I found this worth appreciating.

References:

Avey, James B.; Avolio, Bruce; Crossley, Craig; and Luthans, Fred, "Psychological Ownership: Theoretical Extensions, Measurement, and Relation to Work Outcomes" (2009).Management Department Faculty Publications. Paper 18.

http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/managementfacpub/18

Why did the Weimer Republic Survive? BBC. http://www.bbc.co.uk/schools/gcsebitesize/history/mwh/germany/weimarsurviverev1.shtml, October 2013.