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There was an outbreak on Twitter this morning of quotes around the classic, classic film, Heavy Metal, which is one of my all-time favorite movies. But the outbreak had me thinking about an important issue, which is writing comedy.

Almost all comedy emerges from a disputation of power. In the classic man vs. man or man vs. nature, for example, comedy emerges when a man tries and fails to overcome a problem because of overreach fueled by arrogance and ignorance. A classic example is, to use television, fromSeinfeld when Kramer tried to adapt his bathtub for better waterflow in defiance of his landlord’s requirement to reduce water use; he lacked understanding of the problem and arrogantly assumed he knew how to fix it; the resulting flood of his entire apartment was consequently funny. Other classic sources of comedy come from the Upstairs/Downstairs mould of television, where the powerful are never torn down, but are routinely shown up as incompetent and undeserving of their status by their cleverer underlings. Even The Argument Sketch from Monty Python is all about the two characters attempting to powerplay each other, each cleverly looking for a way to either needle or deflect the other’s jibe, to put the other man “under.”

Which is why there’s a moment in Heavy Metal‘s “Lincoln F. Sternn” segment that once seemed funny, but now dies like a landed fish. The scene is supposed to be comic. Sternn is on trial for being a very bad man, and his list of achievements is impressive. ”Lincoln Sternn, you stand here accused of 12 counts of murder in the first degree, 14 counts of armed theft of Federation property, 22 counts of piracy in high space, 18 counts of fraud, 37 counts of rape, and one moving violation.” The prosecutor pauses after every count to let it sink in. The “camera” (Heavy Metal is animated) looks over the bored judge, the restless jury, the steely-eyed prosecutor. When the prosecutor reads the rape charge, the camera focuses on Sternn… whose smile broadens knowingly.

That used to be considered humor. It’s funy, because, see, we all know that, while, legally, rape is, like, a bad thing, Sternn is such a manly man that, well, he was just putting women in their proper place in the power structure, and it’s not like he killed them or anything, he was just doing what a man does.

The women in that scene aren’t human beings; they’re merely pawns.

Once you live in a world where men and women are equals, it stops being funny. Instead, it comes across as horrifying, and Sternn’s consequential escape from justice (as well as the murder of his henchman) loses all comic impetus. Then again, so does getting away with murder.
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Kouryou-chan, Omaha and I went to see Iron Man 3 for Mother's Day. It was an awesome movie, and the choice of Ben Kingsley as the villain was inspired and amazing. Robert Downey Jr. is in it to win it, and he's as good as always.

But here's the thing: Several times in the movie, Tony talks about "that thing that happened in New York." It's in the trailer, so I don't think I'm giving it away. There's a brief dialogue about the aliens and so forth.

Never are any other Marvel properties mentioned. Not once. The words "Avengers," "Shield," "Nick Fury," "Captain America," "Thor," and "The Hulk" are never mentioned throughout the film. "The big guy with the hammer" gets one mention. It's as if Iron Man 3 were following the conventions a parody porn film and never to using actual trademarks to avoid getting sued.

Does anyone have any good ideas why? It's like this strange vacuum in the middle of the script, like they were trying to cut Iron Man loose from the Marvel Universe for some strange reason.
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Say all you will about Iron Man 2, which was a pale specter of the first film, but the scene where Downey is trying to find his father's hidden mystery, the one his father couldn't build because the tech didn't exist yet so he hid it in plain sight, illustrates something essential about Tony Stark.

The scene where Downey is trying to figure out the puzzle, where you can see him struggling, if you're a geek of the mathematical persuasion you can feel along with him as the microneural circuits exploit their own plasticity and grow in new directions. The eye-rolling, distant look, the hand scrubbed over the face to create highly localizing distracting stimuli because you desperately know you need or it something inside your head is going to break, Downey captured that high-functioning ADHD/Asperger's look gorgeously.
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The Boston Globe brings us The Top 50 Scary Movies of All Time. I laughed when I read this review of Event Horizon: "The plot is complicated, intelligent, and rewards the viewer who pays close attention to the film."

Seriously? This movie had the single most stupid line ever shot off in a science fiction film: "You break all the laws of physics and you seriously think there wouldn't be a price?" The entire premise, based upon one scriptwriter's excessively limited concept of frame dragging, that the first FTL starship went not across the universe but to Hell and back, had already been done: in the video game Doom, in Warhammer 40K, and in countless novels and short stories. The plot was childish, brain-damaged, and had every science fiction fan in the audience squirming in theirs seats with embarrassment: for Sam Neil, for Lawrence Fishburn, for just about everyone involved.

Well, give the writer this: John Carpenter's The Thing was in his top-ten. Although for true scariness, I think you should re-watch the movie and then read Peter Watt's The Things, to see what that conflict looked like from the monster's point of view.

JWZ bait

Jul. 21st, 2010 04:22 pm
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Mutant. Furry. Bald. Tail. Wings. Sex scene. Totally NSFW, but, um, er... yeah! More of this, please.
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A lot of readers have expressed concern that, with modern CG effects, the new Tron movie is going to suck because it has abandoned its abstract, hazy background in favor of highly-rendered precision environments. I think we have something much more profound to worry about: what metaphor the writers choose to describe their alternative reality.

In the original Tron, the computer world was a metaphor for what an operating system does. Hence Tron, Yuri, and so forth were limited in what they could do-- what they could even conceive of-- because they were ordinary programs as we understand them. Only under Flynn's influence, as something with extraordinary free will, did other programs begin to experience something unique, that touch of the divine.

In The Matrix, the Matrix wasn't a metaphor for anything: it was a setting with its own set of rules determined by the operating system. Those rules had exceptions and backdoors that allowed cheaters (Morpheus, Neo and the other free people) to shim special powers onto themselves or otherwise throw off limitations imposed if you went through the standard pod interface. Other programs, like Smith, the Twins, the Oracle, and so forth, were programs of such enormous complexity that had begun to emulate their human models so well they had started to demonstrate free will.

In The Matrix Revolutions, at the very beginning in the train station, the nervous businesmann gives Neo a speech about the trainman, and the entire premise of The Matrix Series falls apart: the trainman is not a free program within the Matrix, he is a metaphor for how the Matrix works. The Wachowski Brothers didn't understand the difference between the Matrix as a setting running within a computer and the Matrix as a metaphor for the computer.

My biggest concern is that the filmmakers of Tron: Legacy will make this same confusion: they'll mistake the whole point of the original and go for the explanation in the original Matrix series: that Flynn has dropped into what is merely a setting, and will not get any of the underlying metaphor correct at all. Tron as setting deprives the main characters of their two most important qualities: a capability for influencing the real world, and an almost Promethean message of free will.

Although the Tron 2.0 video game touched on these concepts only briefly, they did a pretty good job of staying within the lines of the original. Sam and Flynn don't exploit exceptions within the operating system as Neo did to save the world, they are exceptions. That's what the divine is. Sam and Flynn are angels, demons, or gods: they're spheres intersecting Flatland. If the script for Tron: Legacy doesn't understand that, it's doomed.

(A particular irony: in the original, many of the sets were hand-built and the glow effects were achieved through stage lighting: in effect, the real world was manipulated to make the computer world seem convincing. In the trailer, you can tell that the scene where Sam is approaching the arcade was green-screened; today, the computer world is manipulated to make the real world seem convincing.)
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So, Omaha and I, as a fun way of remembering Ricardo Montalban, decided to have "Khan night." We took the kids out to Khan's Mongolian Grill, and then rented Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

I had forgotten just how good that film was. It has an 80's aesthetic, but it still holds together well as an action-adventure, as a space opera, and as a Star Trek film. Listening to the costume, set, and ship designers discuss how they negotiated with the director, who was basically doing Horatio Hornblower because he didn't know squat about SF or Star Trek. Ricardo Montalban is glorious as Khan. It was fun to watch the interview after the flick where Montalban talks about the "Khaaaaaan!" scene. He described how he did his scene alone, without Shatner, and Shatner's lines were read by a "sweet-voiced script girl who did not act, and should not act. And here I am trying to be so... It was very hard."

It was fun. The girls thought it was a good flick, although Kouryou-chan was full of questions. "Why this," and "Why that," and so on. But we had a great evening.
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Omaha and I just went to see The Dark Knight, which really is as good as everyone is saying it is. I won't spoil it for you other than to tell you that Ledger, Bales, and Oldman really earned their pay, and it's a shame that Ledger is gone because he really nailed the part well.

On the other hand, I cannot freaking believe this got a PG-13 rating. The violence, especially the interpersonal violence involving knives and so forth, is completely not appropriate even for 13 year olds. There were parents who took their seven and eight year olds into this theater, for the 9:00pm-11:30pm showing for Set's sake, and this movie is completely not for those kids. I hope those parents deal with bedwetting-level nightmares of clowns with knives carving grins into their faces. For weeks.

This only shows how the MPAA is a complete and total sham, from their ratings system to their copyright madness.

Oh, and in the theater I saw a poster for a remake of Deathrace 2000. It's a little out of date, so this time it's just Deathrace. I can only hope they retained the cheese.
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So, having seen number 2 last night, tonight Omaha and I went out to see Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.

The film proceeds where the last one left off, with Barbossa leading a team with Will and Elizabeth off to the ends of the world to find Jack Sparrow and bring him back from the dead, because only Jack Sparrow knows how to take down Davy Jones.

I'm not going to post any spoilers because doing so would be pointless: there is a plot here, but it isn't the point of the film. You go in to let masters of the genre spend a lot of money poking your pineal gland as hard as they can over and over. The trouble is that you can only poke at it so often before it runs dry, and that's effectively what happens in the end. It is no spoiler to say that there's a huge, amazing battle at the end. That's the whole bloody point, isn't it? But the battle goes on for far, far too long. By the time the most astounding part of the beautifuly costumed computer-generated, green-screen stunted, Hans Zimmer-scored spectacle is before your eyes you've run out of awe. The shock has drained. It's all pretty pictures, but the ongoingness of it has successfully detached you from any emotional investment in the lives of the characters.

You've ceased to care.

This is not to say you shouldn't see it. It is beautifully and magnificently costumed-- oh, the costumes! I love good costume work. (It never ceases to disappoint me when SF writers spend pages and pages impressing us with descriptions of architecture but don't really deliver on the clothes.) The sets are gorgeous, the CGI work quite nice. But when you've started to appreciate the film for its technical delivery, the real point of movie-going has quite failed. And that, unfortunately, is where At World's End leaves you when the credits roll.
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Omaha and I have been trying to put together a date for going to see Pirates of the Carribean 3, so as part of our preperation we rented PotC2, Dead Man's Chest (nice pun, that). Since my duties to my kid's school had ended at one, we sat down to watch it after lunch. The disc, being a rental, was a bit dirty and scratched, but I swear my cheap, plastic Lasonic player is a bit like one of those old Apple II disk drives: it'll try to play a frozen pizza, and would probably manage to pull some data out of it.

Dead Man's Chest can best be characterized by the caricature of Jack running away from just about everything. That's Johnny Depp through the whole film, running pell-mell through the sets, arms waving, screeching at the top of his lungs.

Hands up if you thought Naomi Harris (the voudoun girl) was hotter than Kiera Knightly.

I've used lj-cut to block off the spoilers. If you've circumvented the lj-cut feature on your friend's list display, consider stopping now.

spoilers )

The CGI is kinda weak. I'm not sure why, but it felt hokey in places, and there were some mattes that didn't integrate well into the overall shot. That it used the same gag twice (escape in a rolling barrel, done in grand style) was a bad sign, but that can be forgiven. However, the movie as a whole was entertaining and fun, and I enjoyed it even when it went so totally over the top.

Oh, and stay for the credits. There is an end scene.
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I just watched the new Transformers movie trailer, and okay, I'm gonna say that based on the new trailer this isn't your childhood Transformers but it's not gonna suck. The premise seems to be that the US finds a disabled Megatron under the ice, and they activate him, bringing down the rain of Decepticons onto the world. There are Autobots here on Earth who know Megatron is here somewhere, but they don't know where, so they represent the opposing force.

I will say this, Starscream totally rocks in this trailer. He is not the incompetent boob of the series. The CG stuff has reached cinematic levels; there's no point in admiring it. Either it works or it doesn't, and it seems to work here.

Unfortunately, it is a Michael Bay film. Some of the stuff does look like retread from Armageddon.

So, opening night, anyone?
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No one can outrun their destiny.

Look, Mel. I can probably forgive the anti-semitic bullshit. I can understand that everyone carries a little-- or a lot-- of hypocritical bigotry inside them for one group or another, and it is the hypocrisy of keeping it inside all the time while living up to the higher standards of public discourse that make civilization clank along in its ungainly fashion like Frankenstein's Monster.

But get your freaking tagline's grammar right! Okay? "No one can outrun his destiny." Got it? Repeat after me. "No one can outrun his destiny." Singular referent, singular reference. Make sure you get it right before you put it on posters going up in every theater across the planet! Otherwise people really will start to think you really are a bloody idiot.

I'm just sayin'.
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One of the things I would never have expected from George Clooney as a director, a scriptwriter (admittedly with an old pro), and so forth is a powerful, effective movie-- and yet, that is exactly what we get with Good Night, And Good Luck, the fictionalized biopic of Edward R. Murrow's decision to take on Joe McCarthy and make of him an embarassment of the U.S. Senate.

It's filmed in black-and-white and happens almost entirely within the studios at CBS, where Murrow and producer Fred Friendly, and their staff of reporters and writers, assembled a damning portfolio of film clips (made with real celluloid) of McCarthy and his crusade against Communists everywhere: his deceptions, his snide elisions, his callous disregard for the Constitutional processes. McCarthy appears entirely in archival footage, which is how the American people saw him.

The film is amazingly sparse, but never empty: the black-and-white creates a lack of texture that gets filled with the sheer pressure under which Murrow and Friendly operated. Frank Langella plays the president of CBS, and Frank Downey Jr and Jeff Daniels make for terrific reporters.

Obviously, Clooney is making a point about political overreach and arrogance here, but he couldn't have done it in a more effective or more entertaining manner. This is a civics lesson everyone should go see.

And while I'm here, I have to say that I love and adore my wife, who chose to go with me to this film rather than pick some sappy chick-flick or lighthearted comedy.
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The MST3K of the weekend was Jungle Goddess, an offensive little hunk of tripe from 1948, three years after World War II. The plot should be enough:
When a plane carrying the daughter of a millionaire crashes in an African jungle, two pilots set out to collect the reward. They discover that she has become the goddess of a primitive tribe. An insurgent witch doctor and fierce wild animals make escape from the jungle difficult for the trio.
Really though, that's not enough. Start with the idea that she's made a goddess because she's white. That's pretty rude, but then we get to her personality.

One of our protagonists shoots a tribesman. She goes through the motions, as village goddess, of condemning him to death in eight days, "when the full moon rises." The other protagonist goes to her to ask what will happen, and she assures him that she has no intention of doing as the local laws allow. There's this unstated "He only killed a native, it's not like he killed a white man or anything like that."

A real piece of 1940's racism. And what annoys me most is that when I was young, like nine or so (that would be 1975), I loved watching those old Johnny Weismuller Tarzan movies. They're much of the same flavor, terribly unenlightened products of a former age, but now those memories feel tainted and somewhat sickly.

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