The Problems Of Action Heroes

Next week, we’ll get back to specific movies. This week, let’s talk about another problem modern movies face. This problem is associated with action heroes. Action heroes change with the times, and these days they’ve run into a wall. Between conflicting moral codes and the problems of “adrenaline addiction,” there isn’t much left for an action hero to do.

Action heroes have been around since Odysseus took his band of merry pirates to Troy for the Friday night fights. At that point, a hero was a man who was mortal, but also the offspring of a god. And action stories were about the exploits of these heroes, as they overcame challenges that were beyond mortal men. This set the ground work for much that followed.

Indeed, even today, action heroes need to be able to do things that regular humans can’t. It is the rare hero who doesn’t quickly demonstrate some far-above-average skill -- no matter how much the movie facially tries to sell the hero as “just a regular person” when the story begins. Moreover, action stories tend to be epic in nature as the hero goes through a series of successively more difficult challenges. And it is within these requirements that action heroes suddenly find themselves in a bit of a jam.

The reason humans suffer from addiction is the competing demands of two hard-wired behavioral responses within the human being. First, we seek pleasure. Pleasure sets off all kinds of chemical reactions that make us want more. That’s nature’s way of telling you to do something. If it feels good to eat something tasty, then do it. And if it doesn’t give you any pleasure, like that none-too-succulent rock you’re sucking on or the banana you’re trying to jam in your ear, then don’t bother doing that again. In this way, nature steers us toward the things we should be doing.

Secondly, humans have a coping mechanism that takes the emotional edge off our experiences. This lets us cope with trauma and loss, as it softens their sting over time. It also lets us put up with horrible conditions, like prison camps, as we grow accustomed to them. Without this, our suicide rate would probably be extremely high. Unfortunately, this dulling mechanism also dulls pleasure. Thus, we soon find that the things that brought us pleasure aren’t as pleasurable as they once were. That means we need more than before, to achieve the same high. This is true of everything that delivers pleasure, from foods to drugs to the adrenaline we derive from watching action heroes blow things up, engage in fights, and narrowly escape death. Action heroes basically make us adrenaline junkies.

As junkies, the more we get, the more we will need the next time just to recreate the same thrill. That means that each successive action movie must have bigger explosions, more frenetic fights and bigger stakes to keep us entertained. If an action hero simply did what the last guy did, we would be bored. And this creates a problem. How do you keep upping the ante to keep generating that adrenaline rush? Bigger explosions? Ok, so a car bomb turns into a huge car bomb turns into a semi-trailer bomb, turns into a city-wide nuclear bomb turns into. . . hmm. Ok, maybe we increase the shock level. The bad guy goes from being some dude to being some corporate lackey to a corporate president to a senator to the president to. . . shoot, not again.

Do you see the problem? As each film ups the ante, we slowly run out of room to keep upping the ante. As it is, the bad guys these days need to sit at the highest levels of power (always the most powerful person in the film), they need to plan to destroy the country or the world, and they need to set off explosions that bring down landmarks. Nothing lesser will do. But this doesn’t leave us any room to keep going up either. There just isn’t much “more” left.

That’s why a movie like Ronin was so refreshing. Unlike most action movies that traffic in bigger-is-better, Ronin went for realism. And in the process, it brought a whole new form of adrenaline rush because the action actually felt real, something you hadn’t really see before on the screen. But even there, how far can you go with realism before people get bored again?

This catch 22 is slowly killing action movies.

But there’s another problem too, and it deals with action movies falling into a very boring formula. And that formula derives, of all things, from the contradictory human moral code to which we subscribe.

On the one hand, humans love revenge. Forget the turn the other cheek stuff, we are all for an eye for an eye and bringing a gun to a knife fight. But on the other hand, we find it morally repugnant that someone would kill without a reason or that they would kill someone once they’ve been disarmed and defeated.

How does Hollywood reconcile this? Well, it’s found two mechanisms. Let’s call the first one drone slaying. To satisfy the audience’s blood lust without running afoul of the audience’s revulsion at unjustified killing, Hollywood has learned to take the humans out of the film. Now, the hero can slay an army of robots or orcs or zombies, and the audience doesn’t think twice. (Even in war movies, it is rare that we see the faces of the uniformed drones that get gunned down en mass by the hero.) Since the audience doesn’t see these as human, the moral code doesn’t kick in. Thus, the hero can kill all the drones they want -- which, not coincidentally, also gives the hero his (or her) bona fides as a hero, because they’ve shown themselves to possess skills that far exceed the helpless humans around them. But sadly, because these are drones, the hero’s actions still ring hollow.

Thus, the hero must kill a couple of “faced” humans. This bring us to the second mechanism. Hollywood has learned to manufacturer ways that the good guy can still kill the bad guy without running afoul of the moral code. Indeed, the two primary rules on this code are: (1) never kill without reason and (2) never kill anyone who has been beaten. So Hollywood always starts the movie by giving us a clichéd, easy to understand reason why the hero must act -- and forget doing the right thing, we want easy. . . they've got my daughter!. . . they're going to blow up the city! Gone is Clint Eastwood’s anti-hero in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly who killed for money, and in his place are a series of heroes who need to suffer a proportional loss or threat of immediate proportional loss before they can kill the bad guy. Moreover, have you noticed how many movies end with the good guy defeating the bad guy, but not killing him -- because you can’t kill someone who has been defeated and is now helpless -- only to turn his back as the bad guy picks up a random gun, thereby allowing the good guy to turn around and blast him? This manufactured ending satisfies the audience’s blood lust, without making them feel morally uncomfortable about their choices. That’s kind of sad.

Indeed, this cliché changes the nature of the hero. The hero goes from taking command of the world around them to becoming a victim of chance. In other words, they no longer make their own destiny, they need to wait for the bad guy to make it for them. It’s like Lucas re-editing Star Wars to make Greedo shoot first. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. In one lousy edit, Lucas has changed Han Solo’s character dramatically. Gone is the rogue and in his place is the victim who acted in self defense. Yuck. Well, that’s exactly what Hollywood has done to the action hero generally.

Thus, the modern action hero faces a series of problems. Everything that can be blown up has been blown up, and there’s no higher authority that can be a criminal that isn’t already being used in movies today. Further, the action hero now needs to waste most of the movie picking on drones until he (or she) is ready to fight a highly choreographed main fight to end the movie in a morally acceptable way that still results in a dead bad guy. What a lousy time to be a hero.

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The Problem of Sequels

We all know that sequels are rarely as good as the original. But there is a more serious problem with sequels than just crappy writing. Indeed, there is something inherently problematic in the concept of sequels itself that not only can doom them from the start, but can also harm the original.

Hang with me here. Humans are creatures of logic and emotion. In the real world, logic is superior. Logic gives us reasoning. It allows us to build the world around us. Without logic, there would be no science, no math, and no order. It is only through logic that we can categorize and reason, that we develop patterns of thought, formulas, order and structure. Emotions simply cannot do these things because they are subjective, they vary from person to person and situation to situation. They lack structure, consistency and reliability. Thus, a society based more on emotions than on logic will be an unjust society and a failure.

But story telling is different. In story telling, logic plays only a limited role. It plays the part of the gatekeeper, informing us whether or not the events presented in the story are sufficiently likely that we can suspend our disbelief and accept the story as real enough that we may judge it on its merits. And what are the merits by which we judge a story? We judge a story on the basis of whether or not we "like" it -- which is an emotional decision, not a logical decision. . . you do not "like" an equation, it is simply true or false, but, at the same time, whether a story is true or false does not affect whether or not we like it.

What this means is that story telling is all about emotional manipulation. And since our emotional responses are hardwired, we tend to react similarly to certain emotional triggers. Knowing this allows good story tellers to create emotions, heighten emotions or even suppress emotions. Talented story tellers know how to play these triggers like a musical instrument to achieve the desired result.

What does this have to do with sequels? Consider this. . . movie makers follow a series of well known patterns to create the emotional highs and lows they want. The greater the high or low created, the greater the movie.

To maximize the highs and lows, filmmakers use two age-old tricks. First, they paint the challenge faced by the protagonist as nearly impossible. The reason is simple, the greater the challenge, the more likely the chance of failure, the higher the emotional high achieved when the protagonist succeeds. Thus, you will never see a film about a man planning to cross the street, but you will see a film about a man aiming to climb the highest peak in the world. Unless the challenge is extreme enough, the emotional content for the audience is simply not sufficient.

Secondly, nothing heightens an emotion more than being exposed to the counter emotion moments before the pay off. Think of it this way, a mountain looks a whole lot more impressive if someone digs out a valley before it -- just like you appear taller to someone standing in a ditch. It’s the same thing with emotions. The closer the hero comes to failure, the sweeter (emotionally speaking) the moment when success arrives.

That’s why couples in romantic movies always dislike each other before they fall in love, and why the audience is made to believe they can never be brought together right before they are joined. By giving the audience a negative emotion first, the positive emotion appears to be all the greater.

It’s the same thing in action movies. Ever wonder why the hero needs to appear to lose right before he wins? Because it makes his victory feel all the greater. The scientist in the drama must be brought to the point of giving up before he has his break through. The bad guy must have his moment of perceived triumph right before he’s defeated. The nerds must lose their frat house right before the moment of comedic revenge. In each instance, the film maker is putting you at the top of a mountain or the bottom of a valley before showing you the rise or fall about to come.

Indeed, when a successful film finally wraps up and the story ends, the audience should be brought to an emotional climax that is literally the highest or lowest emotional point of the film.

So what does this have to do with sequels? Sequels are made because the audience was so emotionally moved by the prior film that they want to experience the ride again. They want to relive the highs and lows that befell these characters. And therein lies the problem.

If the ending of the last film was truly the highest point, then the filmmakers must find a way to take that away so the audience can be brought emotionally low again before being lifted up once more -- otherwise the highs will feel flat, or worse, they'll feel like lows compared to where the character had been. What’s worse, the audience wants to repeat the exact type of action that happened the first time, i.e. the audience wants to see the lovers fall in love again, the band of heroes have to join up once more, and the every-man hero who never did anything in his life before must again rise up and meet the impossible challenge.

That’s why the characters who were in never-ending love at the end of Romancing the Stone needed to fall out of love to start Jewel of the Nile, why the Ghostbusters had to lose their business and be spread to the four winds to start Ghostbusters II, and why Ellen Ripley in Alien had to face a bigger challenge for which she was not prepared, but into which she could grow.

But there are two inherent problems with this. First, by undoing the ending of the original, sequels start on a poor footing. Right out of the gates, you’ve killed the never-ending love, and broken up the inseparable team. And how do you make the world’s biggest alien killer back into Joe-nobody? Moreover, when you do this, you change the nature of the characters. Before the lovers merely suffered from romantic mistakes, now we know they might not really get along as well as we thought. Suddenly, those four friends who clung together through thick and thin don’t seem as devoted as they once did? And do we really think Ripley can’t handle this current crisis. . . even though we never would have picked her to survive the first movie?

Also, why should the audience trust that your resolution will be any more real this time? How do we know the lovers won’t break up again the moment the credits stop? If you lied to us before, there is no reason to think that you might not be lying now.

Secondly, the film maker probably told the audience that the crisis in the first film was the biggest crisis of all time. So how are we now supposed to believe something even more challenging has come up? How fake does it feel to hear everyone warn us about the K-10 in the original as if that was the be-all, end-all only to now discover the K-11 standing right next to it. (FYI, you can’t just repeat the original challenge because the audience knows that your character can overcome that. So you must step up the challenge.)

Alien provides a classic example of this problem. In Alien we were told the alien was the most horrific creature in the universe. But Ripley overcame it. Thus, to raise the challenge level, she must now face something worse than “the worst creature ever.” To solve this, they made her face hundreds of aliens. But to make this work, they had to reduce the murderous potency of the creature itself or all the humans would have been wiped out in the first five minutes of the film. Yet, in so doing, the director has now told us that the first alien wasn’t as tough as it seemed. That diminishes her achievement. It would be like learning in Empire Strikes Back that Darth Vader was the sissy brother of Darth Super Vader.

That’s the problem with sequels. To recreate the emotional rollercoaster of the original, most need to begin by diminishing the highs and lows of the original ride. Not only does this leave you with a bad taste in your mouth right out of the gates, but it calls into question the reliability of what we are told about the highs and lows this time around. Moreover, it often requires tainting the characters in ways that make them less likeable or less potent.

That’s why most of the best sequels either avoid trying to repeat the first movie, or they are actually longer story arcs disguised as sequels. Take for example, Empire Strikes Back which doesn’t diminish Star Wars because it doesn’t try to downplay or undo what happened in Star Wars, it just builds on it by adding the next stage of a long struggle.

So if you’re a filmmaker and you’re looking at making a sequel, consider this advice. Do no harm.

Thoughts?

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Twisted Hollywood

Let’s talk about movie twists. At the end of the 1980s, a friend of mine told me I had to see the movie Black Widow. You probably don’t remember it, if you ever heard of it in the first place. The reason I remember this movie has less to do with the film itself than the trend it started. This movie seemed to begin the era of the twist, an era that has served the movie going public very poorly. These days, there's hardly a movie that doesn’t promise a twist.

Now don’t get me wrong, twists are great things. They have always been a feature of storytelling, and if done correctly, can take an otherwise excellent movie and raise it to a whole new level. Indeed, some of my favorite movies involve dramatic twists: The Matrix, The Sixth Sense, The Usual Suspects, Fight Club, and even The Caine Mutiny.

But few movie twists are of this caliber. Unfortunately, inserting a twist has become one of the biggest crutches for hack screen writers. By adding something “unexpected” to the movie, these pathetic scribblers convince a few gullible souls that they have in fact been watching a decent movie, when the reality is sadly different.

Indeed, most of what passes for twists these days are simply random information jammed into movies, near their ends, to give the director another car chase or an easy wrap up for a problem the unskilled writer didn’t know how else to resolve. It is not surprising either that these things have quickly become clichéd.

How many times have you watched a movie lately where the hero seems to solve the mystery and defeat the bad guy, only to discover that the hero’s boss/life-long friend/girlfriend/partner is the “true bad guy.” And how many times has this made sense? Gee, I never suspected that my ten year cop partner, who I see every waking moment of our working days, was really running the syndicate that controls the city’s underworld. Who knew? Or what about the young hero who finds meaning in the wise words of a janitor, who just happens to be the boy’s long lost father? Princess falls for a commoner? Don’t worry, he just doesn’t know yet that he’s really prince. Need a cause for some disaster? Maybe we brought this on ourselves? Hey, what’s that kid next door playing with? Why, that’s the missing piece of the very ancient weapon we need to defeat this here monster! Yee haw! If you’ve written any of these clichés, then you suck and you should go back to your day job. . . milking cats.

Unfortunately, Hollywood marketing departments have learned that inserting any surprising information near the end of the film (in its proper formulaic place of course) will generate a buzz -- whether it makes sense or not. Indeed, many a times I found myself reaching for my cell phone determined to find out the location of the nearest gun shop and the writer’s home address after seeing such a “twist,” only to hear some slack-jawed moron walk by saying: “I really didn’t see that coming. What a great film. You smell perty.” And I just wanted to scream at said moron: “Senator, you’re a [expletive deleted]!!”

A good movie twist needs to derive from a combination of factors, each of which must be present.

First, you need a well written movie regardless of the twist. Each of the movies identified above was a strong movie even without the twist. If you’re relying on the twist to save your movie, then you’re doing it wrong. Similarly, if you find yourself racing the story along just to get to the twist, then you’re doing it backwards. The twist needs to come naturally out of the story, the story should not be a crutch to support the twist.

Secondly, the twist needs to be deeply entwined with the story. If it’s just an add on to give your story a surprise, then you should give up writing and follow your true calling instead. . . marketing. Here are some examples of add ons that I see all the time: If the twist can happen to any of the characters, as if the writer threw darts to decide which team member will betray the others, then the twist is an add on. If the twist isn’t related to the themes of the film, then it’s an add on. If the writer can’t really explain why the twist is needed in the story without just citing the plot that follows the twist, then it’s an add on. In other words, if you’re asked why you included the twist, and your explanation is something like: “if we don’t expose the real bad guy, then the audience won’t know about the real bad guy” then it’s time to leave the writing to others.

Third, a twist must be foreshadowed. This is the hardest aspect of getting a good twist, but it’s also the most important. This is difficult because “foreshadow” doesn’t just mean you make a few passing references to the twist as the movie meanders along. But you can’t give it away either. A twist should be surprising, but it also needs to seem like it was always there for the viewer if they would have just stopped to think about it. Indeed, twists that have done this successfully are the ones that make you want to rewatch the movie for the clues that you missed the first time. The best way to tell if a twist is gratuitous is if the foreshadowing is forced. . . does it seem jammed into the story, or does it flow naturally from the story as it progresses.

Finally, the best twists need to change the meaning of the entire movie, not just drive the plot in a different direction. Each of the movies identified above does that. Consider The Caine Mutiny where you suddenly find yourself changing sides after the twist is revealed and you realize that you misinterpreted each of Queeg’s actions. Or consider the scene in Fight Club in the kitchen, after Helena Bonham Carter has slept with Durden, where you are convinced that Carter is a nasty, hateful woman, until after the twist, when you realize that she’s actually trying to be nice but Norton is the one who is acting insanely. Consider The Sixth Sense where a horror story turns into a touching relationship film, as you realize what Osment is doing for Willis. Or consider The Usual Suspects, which I need to review, where you suddenly learn that nothing you’ve seen over the prior two hours is true and every motivation you attributed to the characters was false. Those are well done twists, because they give you a new take on everything you just watched and let you see the movie again from an entirely new perspective.

If a movie can achieve each of these four factors, then it likely includes an excellent twist that will make a good movie even better. If it doesn’t achieve one of these factors, then you’ve probably got cat milker masquerading as a writer.

Come on Hollywood, it’s not that hard to do this right.

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Film Friday: Vanishing Point (1971)

Sometimes lousy movies are just plain lousy. Sometimes, they're lousy enough they actually become enjoyable in an odd sort of way. And sometimes, somehow, they hit on something that makes them fascinating. Vanishing Point falls into the last category. And interestingly, it’s what the movie doesn’t tell us that fascinates us.

** spoiler alert **

I first heard of Vanishing Point when Quentin Tarantino mentioned it in Death Proof. On the surface, Vanishing Point is a movie about a man driving a 1970 white Dodge Challenger from Denver to San Francisco. He needs to be there by three o’clock the following day. As he drives along, he runs into some strange characters and is chased by the cops. In the end, the cops set up a roadblock and he slams right into it. Doesn’t sound like much does it? But it’s oddly compelling because it's filled with little mysteries.

For example, we know the man’s name is Kowalski, but never learn his first name. They even make a point of not telling us. We know Kowalski needs to be in San Francisco the follow day (when asked if he’s joking, he tells us: “I wish to God I was.”). But the movie never tells us why. In fact, we have no idea what is motivating him. All we know is he is a former hero-cop and a race car driver, who hit rock bottom after his girlfriend died in a surfing accident. But that was long ago.

As he starts out from Denver, he antagonizes two motorcycle-riding state troopers by forcing one off the road. But we have no idea why he does this. As the cops hunt him down, he’s getting guidance over the radio from Clevon Little, who plays a blind disc jockey named Super Soul. Super Soul plays a variety of songs from some soon-to-be famous people. For example, the first ever recorded material by Kim Carnes appears in this soundtrack, Rita Coolidge and David Gates (Bread) appear on screen as revival singers, and Big Mama Thornton performs some of the gospel music. Super Soul knows exactly what Kowalski is doing at every moment, even though there is no way he could know this, and again we never find out how or why. Finally, the big mystery. . . at the end of the film, the police set up a roadblock. Kowalski sees the roadblock but drives right into it killing himself. And he does it with a smile. Why?

That is what makes this movie so interesting. Who is Kowalski, what is motivating him, and why does he commit suicide at the end of the film? Who is Super Soul and how does he know what he knows? The film never tells us and we want to know.

There are many theories about Kowalski. Some argue that Kowalski represents the last free American -- which is why he has no particular name. This explains why he meets with hippies and bikers and other people who live outside of society. He is the archetypal anti-hero, who drives for pure love of speed and personal freedom, and the police are hunting him down because America is changing and freedom is ending. Coming out in 1971, against the social upheaval of the 1960s, this argument makes a lot of sense.

But there is more to consider. The movie is strewn with religious symbols and gospel music. Super Soul is more like a guardian angle than a disc jockey. And when the locals try to stone Super Soul to shut him up, it feels metaphorical for Biblical punishments. Further, Director Richard Sarafian says he intentionally made Kowalski appear “otherworldly” as he charges the barricade. Moments before the impact, a bright shining light appears between the bulldozers and lights up his face. That’s when he smiles. Many have interpreted this as the Biblical Rapture and his smile as the moment he is saved. Though, this interpretation is troubling as Christianity does not condone suicide.

Barry Newman, who plays Kowalski, speculates that the entire movie is an essay on existentialism and that Kowalski gives his own life so he can define his own life:

“Kowalski smiles as he rushes to his death . . . because he believes he will make it through the roadblock. To Kowalski, [the small hole between the bulldozers] was still a hole to escape through. It symbolized that no matter how far they push or chase you, no one can truly take away your freedom and there is always an escape.”

Others have speculated that he is suicidal because of the death of his girlfriend. But then why choose now and why choose this method of killing himself?

In the end, there is no answer, and that is the biggest part of Vanishing Point's appeal. Hollywood convention tells us that films may never leave big questions unanswered. But Vanishing Point disproves this. Humans are inherently drawn to deep psychological questions because we struggle to understand ourselves and we desperately want to know why others make these kinds of emotional choices -- and suicide is the most dramatic act a human can undertake. Leaving Kowalski's motivation unexplained creates an irresistible mystery that draws people in and keeps them thinking when the film ends.

Finally, interestingly, we actually know how this film would have turned out if they had answered these questions. In 1997, Vanishing Point was remade with Viggo Mortenson replacing Barry Newman and Jason Priestly replacing Cleavon Little. Unlike the original, this movie tells us who Kowalski is (including his full name) and why he wants to get to where he’s going (pregnant wife). Priestly also has no supernatural ability to see Kowalski, and instead spends the film spouting off anti-government militia-type opinions on the radio while arguing with callers about what is motivating Kowalski. The 1997 version stinks.

So maybe Hollywood should rethink this convention that says that everything needs to be explained. Perhaps, sometimes, what we don’t say is even more interesting than what we do?

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Re-Booting The Star Trek Re-Boot

The new Star Trek movie didn’t thrill me. Sure, as shallow summer CGI-blockbusters go, it was acceptable, but it wasn’t anything more than that. This movie had none of the depth and sophistication of the original episodes, nor did it have the essence of what made the characters so great. It was little more than Pirates of the Caribbean In Space meets Star Trek Babies, and I guarantee you this new franchise has at most two more movies in it before the audience loses interest in the big shiny explosions. But I’m not here to rip this movie apart. Instead, I’d rather talk about what would have made a better re-boot.

What kind of Star Trek reboot would I have done? For starters, I would want something that kept the original spirit, only updated it with a more intense story and better effects. It would need to be something that both the fans of the original could like as well as non-versed new comers. So why not start by taking a few of the better episodes, combining them, modernizing them, and adding a few twists.

Just as importantly, we need to keep what made the characters work so well (there is no way that any of these Star Trek Babies grows up to become the series characters) and it would be a nice touch to explain some of their idiosyncrasies. Finally, because it costs us nothing, let’s respect the series history rather than throw in a ridiculous time change cop-out (which still can’t explain why they’re all at the Academy together and suddenly the same ages).

I would begin with the incident mentioned in Obsession (gas cloud monster) where eager young, by-the-book Lt. James Kirk of the USS Farragut freezes up for a split second, leading to the deaths of several officers including the captain he idolized (Captain Garrovick). Kirk freezes because shooting the gas cloud would have killed his then-girlfriend (who is the science officer on the Farragut). When he freezes, it attacks the rest of the landing party and kills them. This gives us the question of whether or not Kirk can make the truly hard decision of sacrificing someone he loves to save others.

Fast forward several years. A no-longer-by-the-book, Kirk boards the Enterprise for the first time as Captain. He is replacing the very popular Captain Pike, which gives us a chance to see if Kirk can win over the crew.

Spock, who is already on the Enterprise, was Pike’s science officer and represents the voice of reason. Sulu, also already on board, represents the voice of Pike’s crew. McCoy comes on board for the first time with Kirk, but has not previously known Kirk -- he will be the voice of the audience. Also coming on board with Kirk, as second officer of the Enterprise, is Kirk’s best friend from Academy days. These characters will let the audience see Kirk’s actions being judged from different perspectives.

Kirk’s first assignment is to take a science team to the outer rim of the galaxy to investigate and cross over an energy barrier that rings the galaxy and seems to hold it together. The science team includes Kirk’s (now ex) girlfriend from the beginning of the film. She still pines for Kirk, but he has an aversion to her because of the bad memories of the Farragut incident. This gives us a potential romantic interest and lets us see how Kirk is dealing with his own past. Moreover, you can add the element of him trying to resolve the conflict between wanting a relationship but simultaneously believing that would interfere with his duties as Captain.

Kirk tries to take the ship through the barrier, causing the ship to become damaged (see Where No Man Has Gone Before). Several people die and a handful of people start developing strange ESP powers -- including the ex and the best friend.

As the crippled ship heads to the nearest Federation outpost, things start to go wrong. First, they encounter the remains of an alien spaceship. During the next hour of the movie, Spock will slowly decode that ship’s logs. He will learn that the crew came under attack from both within and outside of the ship, and that the alien captain blew up his own ship, but they won’t know why until near the end of the movie.

In the meantime, strange things start to happen. They discover a ship following them on their sensors, but can’t get near it (like a sensor mirage). It’s like they are being stalked (see Balance of Terror). People also start to see visions of ghosts walking the hallways and hear things pounding on the hull. Soon people are hallucinating, with deadly consequences.

In this portion of the film, I would go for a level and style of horror similar to The Grudge -- uncomfortable and disturbing (a little shocking), but not gory.

As these events begin, the crew believes that they have intruders aboard. Then they start to think they brought something back from the destroyed ship. But as Kirk’s friends gain more and more ESP powers it becomes clear that they are manifesting these nightmares. Further, as their powers grow, they start “losing their humanity” as their powers corrupt their thinking. This lets you play with the “power corrupts” angle and the “fear drives us to do bad things” angle.

As these powers grow, they become increasingly menacing to the crew. Spock tells Kirk they cannot be allowed to reach a populated planet -- he also discovers that this is why the alien captain destroyed his own ship, so his ESP-enhanced crew would not be unleashed on a populated planet. At the same time, McCoy is working on a cure, but likely won’t find one in time.

Kirk is now facing THE choice -- egged on in multiple directions by Spock (“act now”) and McCoy (“give me time”). He can’t let his friends reach the nearest outpost, and he must protect his crew, but can he kill his friends in cold blood? That is the very issue Kirk could not resolve at the beginning of the film with the gas cloud.

In terms of adding a little action, as Kirk is making the decision, I would have the “sensor ghost” (now nearly fully manifested) finally attack the Enterprise. This would be the final trigger that pushes Kirk to make the decision. So does he kill them? Of course, because he’s Kirk and he makes those kinds of hard decisions. But if this is written well, the audience should not be sure until he does it that he will actually do it.

Then wrap it up with a speech about duty, and stressing that while space exploration is dangerous, it is in our natures to take risks.

The end.

I think this movie does a good job of keeping the spirit of the original, updating it, and creating a movie that is both challenging to the audience and yet accessible without being lost in Star Trek minutia. Also, this movie leaves the door open for all kinds of stories in the future because it’s character-driven and you can go in any number of ways with future scripts (kind of like the new Doctor Whos). By comparison, the reboot they actually made can only lead to more CGI action flicks.

That’s my opinion, and I’m sticking to it.

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Top 25: Romance Films You Should Know

Let’s talk about the top 25 romantic films you should know. Why? Because it’s Valentine’s Day and Commentarama loves you! What makes a film romantic? A romantic film pulls at your heartstrings. It gives you the warm fuzzies or the “Spock can’t die?” weepies. But most importantly, it’s about love, baby, love.

Romances began in ancient Greece as comedies, i.e. not-dramas. But it wasn’t until western Europe’s medieval period that romances came into their own. Not coincidentally, many of the conventions that we ascribe to romances today were created at that time. For example this period gave us the white knight stories and the noble sacrifice. The Shakespearean era added romantic mix ups and the star-crossed lovers. And the Jane Austen era finished us off with the cross-class romance, the couple who are already pledged to others, and the ugly ducking. With those final pieces, romances had everything they needed, and they’ve developed little since.

1. Gone With The Wind (1939): I don’t want to die, so I’m giving the mob what it wants. Yet. . . there are legitimate reasons this film belongs at the top of the list. With a stellar cast, an interesting story, and one of the most memorable lines in film, this film, one of the all time highest grossing films, continues to transcend generations. But even more importantly, this is the only film on the entire list that doesn’t fit into the conventions discussed above, and that makes it truly special. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

2. Casablanca (1942): Boy meets girl, Nazis invade Paris, boy loses girl, boy meets girl again, girl is married to unappealing jerk, boy and girl make sacrifice for greater cause, boy keeps Nazis as parting gift. Described by many as Hollywood’s finest moment, this is THE movie for anyone who’s ever been dumped without a lot of explanation. It also contains the most famous line never said: “Play it again, Sam.” “We’ll always have Paris.”

3. Pride and Prejudice (1995): Ok, I’m cheating because this was a miniseries, but rules were meant to be bent, and this miniseries brings Jane Austen’s classic novel to life better than any other version or remake. Pride is the classic struggle of two people who fall for each other despite initially disliking each other, and then can’t ever seem to get together because neither can express themselves -- though they are quite good at arranging the lives of others. Pride is one of the most copied works, as seen again in movies like Clueless, The Sound of Music and many others. “In vain have I struggled, it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

4. An Affair To Remember (1957): Ranked as the most romantic film of all time by the American Film Institute, this Spock-weepy classic staring Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr presents a true star-crossed lovers tale. Two strangers fall in love, despite being engaged to others, and promise to meet in six months to start anew. But things go wrong, as one suffers an injury, and fear of rejection threatens to keep them apart. “There must be something between us, even if it's only an ocean.”

5. Beauty and the Beast (1991): Am I kidding? A cartoon? Nope, not kidding. Show me a little girl. . . or a big girl for that matter, who doesn’t know this movie by heart? Beauty and the Beast is the classic princess fairy tale, mixed with a little Pride and Prejudice, a heaping dose of unrequited love and lovers' misinterpretations, and it plays on the idea that the right woman can turn a frog into a prince. “She’ll never see me as anything but a monster. It’s hopeless.”

6. Pretty Woman (1990): Pretty Woman is the most recent version of Pygmalion, later to become My Fair Lady. My Fair Lady, which I vastly prefer, could easily have taken this spot, but I chose Pretty Woman because of its more recent vintage and because it wasn’t a musical. This story embodies the modern version of the white knight tale, with Richard “Gerbil” Gere, the heartless corporate raider, rescuing Julia Roberts, the hooker with the heart of gold. This movie made Roberts into America’s Sweetheart, gak. “I want the fairy tale.”

7. Four Weddings And A Funeral (1994): The highest grossing British film up to that point, and the film that made Hugh Grant into an international star, this film follows Hugh Grant, who falls for Andie MacDowell after a one night stand. They keep running into each other thereafter at weddings and a funeral, each time with one of them engaged to another, until they finally put it all together. “The castle beckons.”

8. Ghost (1990): Ghost is the classic story of the separated lovers, with an interesting twist -- they are separated by Patrick Swayze’s death. Moreover, Swayze must work to protect his wife from his own killer. Add in the fact that he’s unable to tell his wife that he loved her until after his death, and this turns into one of the most memorable romance movies. This movie even makes Whoopie Goldberg likeable. Will miracles never cease? “Ditto.”

9. Titanic (1997): I found this cliché-riddled movie ridiculous, but it is known the world over. The highest grossing film of all time until Avatar, this film made Leonardo DiCaprio a star outside gay circles and it showed that nothing is more romantic than dying in a disaster after a gun fight. “I’m the king of the world.”

10. Dirty Dancing (1987): Here is one of the travesties of these kinds of lists. This is an ugly duckling story similar to Strictly Ballroom, but Strictly Ballroom is far superior on so many levels -- from the believability of the romantic interests, to the more sensual dancing, to the more intelligent humor. Yet, Dirty Dancing is on the list, and Strictly Ballroom is not, because it is more known. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

11. Princess Bride (1987): How can a movie that pokes fun at romantic movies be in the top eleven? Because it manages to create one of the sweeter romantic movies of modern times. Everyone knows this movie, and even kids are ok with the kissy parts. “As you wish.”

12. Say Anything (1989): Lane Meyer, er. . . Lloyd Dobler is the classic underachiever. He wants to date Diane, who is going places, like England. Soon they fall in love. But her father does not approve. Will Lloyd have what it takes to win the girl? We do know one thing, he’s got a boom box and a Peter Gabriel cassette, and he knows how to use them to up the ante for teenage stalkers everywhere! “What I really want to do with my life - what I want to do for a living - is I want to be with your daughter.”

13. When Harry Met Sally (1989): Ok, full disclosure -- I hate this one. I’ve never see two less appealing people. . . they should have been hit by a train. Harry Sally follows two shallow, self-centered jerks over a twelve year period, and it introduces concepts like “the high maintenance girlfriend” and the “transitional person.” Oh goody. “Can men and women ever just be friends?”

14. The Philadelphia Story (1940): This one is listed at No. 5 on the AFI’s list of romantic movies, though I see it more as comedic than romantic. Still, this sharp-witted comedy provides plenty of romantic sparks as socialite Katherine Hepburn’s wedding plans are complicated by the arrival of Cary Grant, her ex-husband. At a time when the Hayes Code blocked any mention of extramarital affairs, Story was considered one of the best comedies about “remarriage” -- the 1930s/1940s substitute for affairs.

15. While You Were Sleeping (1995): Along with Speed, Sleeping launched Sandra Bullock’s career, and didn’t do too badly for Bill Pullman either. Sleeping is a mistaken identity story involving the perfect girl who is mistaken for the fiancé of a man in a coma. She meets coma-boy’s family and falls for his brother, Bill Pullman. But when coma-boy wakes up, the jig is up. Disgraced, Bullock goes back to her sad, sad life. Will love conquer all? “I want you. . . not to be unhappy.”

16. Shakespeare in Love (1998): This clever comedy deals with the forbidden love of William Shakespeare (Joseph Fiennes) and Viola de Lesseps (Gwyneth Paltrow). With an amazing cast that includes Geoffrey Rush and Judi Dench, this movie delivers both a hilarious take on Shakespeare and a parody of many of his works, and a touching star-crossed lovers story. This is perhaps the one movie that best encapsulates the entire Shakespearean era version of romance. And any move that makes cold-fish Gwyneth Paltrow seem human deserves to be on the list. “I love you, Will, beyond poetry.”

17. You’ve Got Mail (1998): A famous instance of product placement, AOL was a remake of 1940’s The Shop Around the Corner, where two letter-writing lovers don’t realize that their sweetheart penpals happen to be the co-workers they can’t stand. AOL updates this concept for the internet age. Starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan as competing book store managers, this film also was heavily influenced by Pride and Prejudice. “You’ve got mail.”

18. Sleepless in Seattle (1993): Before they managed competing book stores, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan remade An Affair to Remember without the complexity. . . forget the disability, eliminate Hanks’ wife with extreme prejudice, and cue the compliant, cute kid to reflect the single-parent environment of the 1990s (and to give the easy seal of approval to Ryan). “Destiny is something we've invented because we can't stand the fact that everything that happens is accidental.”

19. Notting Hill (1999): Hill is a serviceable romance except for the twenty-minute smirkoff near the end, which significantly raised my tolerance for violence. Hill brings together smirking heavy-weights Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts under the guidance of the same writer as Four Weddings, to give us the highest grossing British film since Four Weddings. This tale of two people who don’t fit in each other’s lives but decide they can’t live apart revived the sagging careers of both smirkers, and showed that formulaic pabulum continues to sell. “Look at me, I’m smirking.”

20. Officer and Gentleman (1982): There were a series of romantic films that were huge about 20 years ago, but which seem to be slowly fading. This includes The French Lieutenant’s Woman and Love Story, but the best of this group appears to be An Officer and a Gentleman. Richard Gere woos Debra Winger as he goes through aviation officer candidate school. This one ends in the iconic scene where Gere walks through a factory to find Winger as the UAW applauds. “I got nowhere else to go!”

21. My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997): In this tale of unrequited love, Smirker Roberts and her college buddy Dermot Mulroney agree that they will marry if neither is married by the time they turn 28. But at 27, Mulroney tells Roberts he wants to marry Cameron Diaz. . . for some reason. This of course convinces Roberts that she really loves Mulroney. Thus, she must pretend to be the dutiful maid of honor while secretly trying to sabotage the wedding. “This is my one chance at happiness. I have to be ruthless!”

22. The English Patient (1996): How can a movie with the talented Ralph Fiennes, the beautiful Juliette Binoche, Mr. Pride Colin Firth, and two Jesuses -- Willem Dafoe and Jurgen Prochnow -- go wrong? I don’t know, but this one bored me to tears. . . not Spock-tears, but tears none-the-less. Maybe you liked it better than I did, many people apparently did. Enough in fact, that it makes our countdown. “Why are you so determined to keep me alive?”

23. Bridget Jones’ Diary (2001): Yet another Pride and Prejudice adaptation, this one centers around a woman who works in the publishing industry, where she fantasizes about her boss until she meets a lawyer she can’t stand (Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. . . again). He thinks she’s a fool. So naturally, they need to fall in love. This film is mostly famous for capturing the angst of single-women in the 1990s. Avoid this one if you have a Y chromosome. “Bridget Jones, wanton sex goddess, with a very bad man between her thighs... Mom... Hi.”

24. City of Angels (1998): Angels is a remake of Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, in which Nicolas Cage gives up being an angel so he can be with the ill-fated Meg Ryan, a surgeon who is anguished by her inability to save one of her patients. “I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand, than eternity without it.”

25. Breakfast at Tiffanies (1961): Breakfast gives us Audrey Hepburn’s most memorable role as she plays the naive, eccentric gold digger Holly Golightly, who seems afraid to fall in love. “Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself.”


Again, these are not necessarily the best romantic movies, but these are the ones you should know to be conversant in our culture. If you want a couple of great ones that aren’t on the list, try the Korean My Sassy Girl, which I’ll review at some point. Or, surprisingly, try Jet Li’s Hero, a martial arts film centered around a very strong love story. Or how about WALL-E, a touching romance between two robots? I’ve been told Until the End of the World is pretty good too.

Thoughts?

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TV Review: Caprica (2010)

Set 58 years before the remake of Battlestar Galactica (“BSG”), Caprica is the story of two families. One is the Adama family, with the focus being on Joseph Adama (Esai Morales), the father of future Galactica commander William Adama -- William is a young boy at this point. The Graystones are the other family. Daniel Graystone (Eric Stoltz) is the inventor of the Cylons. All in all, I’m not thrilled with the show and I think it has serious problems going forward.

** spoiler alert **

The story begins with the death of Graystone’s daughter and Adama’s wife and daughter in a terrorist bombing on a train. The terrorists are a militant religious fringe that believe in “the one true god” instead of the pantheon of gods that are generally accepted (though largely ignored) by the vast, vast majority of people in the colonies, of which Caprica is a member planet.

After losing his daughter Zoe (Alessandra Torresani), Graystone, a talented cyberneticist with a huge military contract to build the first combat robot, inserts an avatar of his daughter (kind of a mental imprint) into his robot’s meta-cognitive processor. This robot, a “cybernetic life form node”. . . “Cylon” for short, becomes the first Cylon. Because of this blending of Zoe and robot, the show intersperses images of the Cylon robot and Zoe, and we watch her reaction as lab techs respond to the robot, unaware of her presence. From there, wackiness ensues.

At this point, in the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that I do not like or respect Ronald Moore, the show’s creator. The man has serious issues. In several interviews, he’s stated that he believes characters should suffer and he would never allow characters to redeem themselves with their actions or to have happy endings (excepting, of course, studio demands). This was on full display in early BSG, where his characters entered a downward spiral with no end -- a downward spiral completely inconsistent with the human experience apart from a few true, manic depressives. Also on display in BSG was his creepy relationship with women. He claims to like “strong” female characters, but they always seem to end up cruel if not sadistic, corrupt, and with strong hints of lesbianism. His male characters fare no better, tending to be self-absorbed, pathetic alcoholics and whiny, über-wimps.

I also do not respect the way he used cheap marketing tactics to gin up interest in BSG -- he has admitted since the show ended that the changes he made to character races and genders were done purely to outrage fans of the original show so they would tune in. What’s worse, as a story teller, I think he’s a coward. I will admit that he flashed moments of brilliance in BSG, but he was always too afraid to take those moments as far as they should go. For example, (1) he started to toy with the idea that the Cylons, who are extremely religious, were the good guys; (2) he gave us a Starbuck who came back from the dead, (4) he gave us terrorists, out of control death squads, and a mutiny, and (5) he gave us Baltar, who started building a massive, twisted cult. Each of these was a moment of brilliance. Yet, in each instance, he dropped the story lines right before the hard choices had to be made, often relying on the age old hack-writer's tool of des ex machina to solve his storyline problems.

Yet, BSG had several things going for it. The first season was virtually unwatchable with the characters basically running around whining and acting like depressives at a two-drink minimum funeral, as they re-enacted each of the original BSG episodes while Moore did interviews disparaging the original show. But over time, he stumbled into ideas that gave the story interest: the realization that some of the humans were actually Cylon agents, the discovery that there were hidden Cylons (who did not know they were Cylons), the discovery that Ellen Tigh was not human, the discovery of Earth. These moments of brilliance and the tension they created made up for the whiny moralizing (like BSGs thinly veiled support for the Iraqi insurgency against US troops), the failing story arcs and the unrealistic, unpleasant characters.

Further, BSG benefited from some great acting: Edward James Olmos, Mary McDonnell, Grace Park, James Callis, and Michael Hogan all turned in stellar performances. And, most importantly, Tricia Helfer gave us a Number Six who was dangerously psychotic, wildly passionate, and absolutely compelling.

Why do I bring this up? Because Caprica has none of these benefits. In place of the compelling, manipulative and unpredictable Number Six, we have Zoe (Torresani), an erratic, monotone, dark-haired version of “save-the-cheerleader” Hayden Panettiere. She’s a poor replacement because her character just doesn’t have the range that Number Six did, nor am I convinced that Torresani can hold a candle to Helfer screen presence. By the same token, Eric Stoltz (Pulp Fiction) just doesn’t have the ability to carry off either a believable scientific genius or a grieving father. He’s more of a moody lab tech. The subplot involving young William Adama’s indoctrination into the mafia doesn’t seem all that interesting either: "gee kid, here's how you break a window. . . ho hum." As for Joseph Adama, Esai Morales is a weak trade for Edward James Olmos, and his character seems to have little more to offer than being the hot-blooded foil to Stoltz’s Doctor Thorazine. . . if they ever end up on screen together.

I am concerned about the plot as well. Whereas BSG was able to offer all kinds of mysteries and surprises, all central to the plot, Caprica seems more like a show that gave away the big surprise in the opening act and is now scrambling to remind you how surprised you were. What is left to reveal or to present a mystery? Nor are the intrafamily or interfamily dynamics very interesting. The show is set up to create tension between the two families and within the families, but the families don’t seem to be on an equal footing, they are bound together only by the thinnest of bonds, and they don’t necessarily interact. And the intrafamily relationships seem non-existent -- apparently, some of the characters are married, though you'd be hard-pressed to tell which. So while this is where the writers will likely look for drama, it seems like it’s going to be a stretch.

The world they’ve created isn’t all that exciting either. Whereas BSG followed the golden rule of unveiling slowly and keeping people wanting more, Caprica showed us their entire world right out of the gates. . . and it wasn’t all that interesting. Indeed, their world seems like a stylized 1950s with an incongruent mix of 1990s technology and far future technology, with a few taboos thrown in to shock the audience (like the nod to Hollywood’s new cause du jour polygamy).

Right now, I just don’t see the compelling characters. I see no story arcs that will keep you guessing. I see no drama or twists that will keep you on the edge of your seat. And I see little else to satisfy your sense of wonder. The themes are well trodden (racism, the pros and cons of religious extremism, power corrupts) and, even worse, the writers don’t seem to be offering anything new.

There are also strange moments you need to overlook to enjoy the show. For example, how does the Cylon, an eight foot tall multi-ton robot, escape the lab and go visit a friend of Zoe’s without anyone noticing? And why don’t the lab assistants seem to care that the robot appears to be psychotic and out of control?

Now, I could be wrong? It could be that the writers have something very different planned than what they’ve shown so far, but based on what I’ve seen at this point, Caprica made an ok short story, but has little to offer going forward as a series.

I guess we’ll see.

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Top 25: Sci-Fi Films You Should Know

Science fiction is the most agile form of story telling because it allows you to present controversial and complex philosophical, ethical and political issues in ways that people can easily understand without feeling like they are sitting through a class on ethics, and without bringing their preconceived expectations and prejudices. It is also tailor-made for films. And since everybody loves lists. . .

Below you will find a list of the top 25 science fiction movies you should know to be well versed in science fiction. These are not necessarily the best or most entertaining films, but they are the important ones. . . the ones that had the greatest impact on science fiction and on our culture. And don’t worry, unlike some people who toss together horrible lists and then try to claim that they were only hoping to “spark debate,” I stand by this list.

Oh, and if you’re one of those people who frets about the completely irrelevant distinction between “science fiction” and “sci-fi,” or who cries when people classify Star Wars as science fiction because “it’s fantasy set in space wah wah” then I have bad news for you. First, no one likes you. Secondly, sci-fi, science fiction, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t a real genre. . . it’s a setting. It needs to piggyback on some other genre -- drama, horror, romance, etc. So get over it.

Here we go:

1. Star Wars (1977): Star Wars is the greatest science fiction movie of all times by many measures. Star Wars made it acceptable for adults to admit publicly they enjoy science fiction, and it single-handedly created the merchandizing industry (plus it created Industrial Light and Magic, which dominates the special effects world). It was also the first film to introduce the public to the idea of “outer space” religions -- interestingly, “Jedi” was one of the top “religions” listed by respondents to the recent UK census. It also spawned numerous sequels and rip offs (including Battlestar Galactica). It’s impact on world culture cannot be over-stated. “Use the force Luke.”

2. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977): This movie tapped into the alien abduction mania of the 1970s and gave us the little gray men motif that has since become a staple for UFO believers. Prior to this movie, aliens were described differently in different parts of the world. Afterwards. . . nuthin' but gray butts and big eyes. Basically, this movie single-handedly homogenized the alien conspiracy theory world, and stoked the abduction mania that continues today. “You can’t fool us by agreeing with us.”

3. Blade Runner (1982): Discussing the question of “what makes us human,” this combination sci-fi and film noir single-handedly set the tone that science fiction would follow thereafter. Hard-boiled gun toting heroes hunting bad guys in dark, depressing and nihilistic landscapes has become the default for science fiction because of this film. The influence of Blade Runner on the science fiction world cannot be overstated. “I want more life f*cker.”

4. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968): Ok, truthfully, 2001 stinks, especially the twenty minutes at the beginning and the end. BUT, 2001 redefined science fiction. Prior to 2001, science fiction had become the playground of children’s movies, with guys in rubber suits chasing teenagers. 2001 elevated science fiction by treating the subject matter seriously and introducing adult concepts like human evolution, artificial intelligence and the nature of extraterrestrial life, all done in a relatively scientifically-accurate setting. This movie spawned the realism phase of science fiction. “What do you think you’re doing Dave?”

5. Metropolis (1927): Science fiction films got their start in Georges Melis’ 1902 A Trip To The Moon, but Friz Lang’s Metropolis became the real influence. It’s dystopian view of workers toiling away in a glittering city controlled by sentient machines set the foundations for almost every science fiction movie that followed.

6. Forbidden Planet (1956): Forbidden Planet was one of the first serious science fiction movies to speculate on how man would roam the stars in the future. This film specifically inspired Star Trek, the most significant science fiction television franchise of all time, and it established several motifs that dominate science fiction today, e.g. that spaceships would be military vessels, that scientists and military do not get along, the good scientist who goes too far, and the uneasy relationship between humans and their robot servants. “Monsters from the subconscious.”

7. Planet of the Apes (1968): The late 1960s saw science fiction begin to talk about social issues. From Soylent Green’s worry about over population to Westworld’s worry about our ability to control our mechanical creations. And the greatest of these was Planet of the Apes, which addressed a future in which mankind had blown themselves up and were reduced to serving as pets for intelligent apes. “You maniacs! You blew it up! Damn you! God damn you all to hell!”

8. Jurassic Park (1993): Jurassic Park spawned a special effects revolution that changed the movie industry as well as the way we watch documentaries. In place of hand drawings or claymation, Jurassic Park unleashed computer generated graphics into the world, allowing documentaries like Walking With Dinosaurs and leading to films like Lord of the Rings which Peter Jackson undertook after realizing from Jurassic Park what computers would let him do. “An Adventure 65 Million Years In The Making.”

9. The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951): In the 1950s, science fiction was relegated to children’s cinema. But among the fake robots and rubber-suited monsters, a few science fiction films tried their hand at adult drama. In the process, they opened the door to adding limited social commentary to science fiction. Of these, The Day The Earth Stood Still is the one that truly stands out. Warning us about man’s propensity to use violence to settle disagreements, this film reminded us that we might not be the most powerful creatures in the universe. “Klaatu barada nikto.” (Avoid the remake.)

10. The Time Machine (1960): Based on the book by H.G. Well, this film is the grandfather of all time travel films, which would become the most loved science fiction theme. “Which three books would you have taken?”

11. Alien (1979): Besides launching a thousand careers, Alien opened the door for mixing science fiction with modern (i.e. realistic) horror, and for women heroes. It also gave us a gritty realism that had been lacking in prior views of the human future, which were all jumpsuit and sterile soundstage. “In space, no one can hear you scream.”

12. The Matrix (1999): The Matrix is a theological/philosophical treatise disguised as a science fiction movie. Nothing you see in the film is there by accident, and everything has double and triple meanings. In many ways, The Matrix is the zenith of several key science fiction themes -- man v. machines, reality v. apparent reality, and the question of what makes us human. In terms of influence, The Matrix has become a code word for altered reality. It also introduced several new visual styles, such as “bullet time.” “What is the Matrix?”

13. Fahrenheit 451 (1966): Based on Ray Bradbury’s book, Fahrenheit 451 fits into the 1960s trend of social, political commentary. But unlike other films of the time, this one didn’t involve catastrophe, it involved people who thought they were perfectly happy. . . except for one man who wonders why books need to be burned. These would become common elements of science fiction: people who voluntarily submit to oppression, the gilded cage, mind control, group think, an oppressive regime, and a lone hero who wonders why. “Fahrenheit four-five-one is the temperature at which book paper catches fire and starts to burn.”

14. War of the Worlds (1953): Based on H.G. Wells’ story, this cross between the adult science fiction of the 1950s and the kiddy stuff, gave us the idea that maybe aliens won’t wear jumpsuits and look like teenagers, and maybe they won’t think twice about exterminating us -- a point repeated recently by Stephen Hawking, who states that the interaction between two civilization of different technical prowess almost always ends poorly for the less advanced group. It also was the first film to posit that, just as ancient people were struck down by diseases from travelers to which they had no immunity, maybe the same would hold true with space creatures. Both themes have become common. “After all that men could do had failed, the Martians were destroyed and humanity was saved by the littlest things, which God, in his wisdom, had put upon this Earth.”

15. The Andromeda Strain (1971): From Michael Crichton’s book, this is one of a myriad of pandemic movies from the late 1960s and early 1970s. But whereas the others were typically more melodramatic, this film approached the idea with genuine interest in how science would stop a pandemic. Movies like Outbreak and The Stand trace their roots through this film. It is also likely that films like this contributed to the eventual banning of chemical and biological weapons. “Enemy? We did it to ourselves!”

16. Dune (1984): Dune is one of the most influential science fiction books of all time. The movie didn’t take with the public, and that actually hurt the industry for some time, but it has since become a cult hit. (I actually prefer the Alan Smithee version.) Dune introduces the idea of folding space, something scientists now consider possible. “Usul, we have worm sign the likes of which even God has never seen.”

17. Fifth Element (1987): Fifth Element stands as the only anti-Blade Runner which has found an audience. It presents a future that is actually quite positive, if a little odd. It’s also one of the few films to let its aliens develop personality and be anything other than wise or menacing. This is another cult movie that you must know. “Time is not important. Only life is important.”

18. Stargate (1994): This movie introduces the idea of traveling throughout space without a spaceship, and it provides an alternative history of our planet. It also spawned a massive industry of merchandise, television spin offs, games, and online fan fiction. “Give my regards to King Tut, asshole.”

19. Capricorn One (1978): I want to rank this higher because I really like this film, but it just isn’t influential enough. As my review noted, this film is a cultural marker to the beginning of the “vast government conspiracy” movement of today. . . but it isn’t a driver of that movement, it just notes it. Still, you should know this movie. “There are people out there, ‘forces’ out there, who have a lot to lose.”

20. THX-1138 (1971): I debated putting Logan’s Run into this slot, but I decided THX 1138 is just more influential. This Lucas film depicts a world in which the population is controlled by faceless, android police officers and the mandatory use of drugs to suppress emotion and sexual desire -- with a stellar cast to boot. This movie is one of those that all science fiction fanatics have seen and can discuss, and references to it find their way into everything science fiction. “Blessings of the state, blessings of the masses.”

21. 12 Monkeys (1995): Terry Gilliam, Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt at their best remake the French short film La Jetée, a story about a man who makes his own future by interfering with his own past. With a plot that is heavily interlaced with multiple timelines and a rare moment of Gilliam-coherence, this is one of those films you need to know. “I'm looking for the Army of the Twelve Monkeys.”

22. E.T. (1982): Unfairly dismissed as a kids movie, E.T. presents a different view of aliens than we’d seen before. While they are not human, they also aren’t out to hurt us. Yet, while this movie was huge at the time, it ultimately was not very influential. Still, you should see it. “Phone home.”

23. The Terminator (1984): The Terminator’s influence was more cultural than in science fiction. Indeed, the movie was exceedingly popular, became a franchise, and got everyone mimicking its star for some time, but it had little new to offer the world of science fiction. Still, if you want to know science fiction, you must see this movie. “Sarah Connor?”

24. Tron (1982): Yes, Tron. This was the first film from a major studio (Disney) that used extensive computer graphics. And while this movie lacks the philosophical questions raised by its sibling The Black Hole, this film provides the first glimpse into how science fiction interprets the inner universe of a computer. “That’s Tron, he fights for the users.”

25. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982): This is another film that added little to the science fiction world, but struck it big in the cultural reference department. I almost hesitate to mention it, and probably wouldn’t if it wasn’t part of the Star Trek franchise, but you should know it. “Khaaaaaan!”


There are many other science fiction films that I would suggest you watch: Cube, Robocop, The Satan Bug, Pitch Black, eXistenz, Dark City, Outland, The Abyss, The Black Hole, and Contact, just to name a few. But none of these are as important as the 25 listed above.

I take it you agree?

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Film Friday: Strictly Ballroom (1992)

Written by Ayn Rand, Strictly Ballroom is one of my favorite romantic movie. Ok, I’m kidding, it wasn’t written by Ayn Rand, though it could have been. I’ll bet no one has ever told you that before!

** spoiler alert **

Strictly Ballroom began life as a play written by Baz Luhrmann and Andrew Bovell. In 1992, Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge) made it into a movie. . . his first. With a wry sense of humor, a sharp wit, and a flare for the ridiculous, Luhrmann turned what would have been just an another low-budget ugly duckling tale into a worldwide sensation that continues to appear on "best of" lists today. And in the process, he gave us one of the better romantic movies of the last couple decades.

Strictly Ballroom is the story of Scott Hastings (Paul Mercurio), and his struggle against the powers that be. Scott has been dreaming of winning the Pan Pacific Grand Prix ballroom dancing championship since he was six years old. Under the guidance of his über stage-mother Shirley (who never managed to win the Grand Prix herself), Scott has become the champion dancer of Kendall’s Dance Academy. Les Kendall is Shirley’s ex-dance partner. Scott's father, we're told, doesn't dance and is withdrawn into his own world.

As the story opens, we learn that all is not well with Scott. Scott is a talented dancer, but feels trapped by the regimented rules of ballroom dancing. He wishes to dance his own moves (steps). But this doesn’t suit the powers that be, specifically Australian Dancing Federal Chairman Barry Fife. Fife warns Scott that he cannot use his own steps: “there will be no new steps!” But Scott ignores him and thereby sets into motion a chain of events that will shake the Grand Prix world to its very foundations.

When Scott first displays his new steps, the powers that be instantly turn on Scott. He's disqualified from the event and threatened with further disqualification. His dance partner Liz, unable to stand the strain of living on the edge of propriety, leaves Scott so she can dance with his biggest competitor, Ken Railings. Scott’s mother lays a heavy guilt trip on him, as she very visibly suffers a near nervous breakdown trying to reign Scott in and find him a new partner. But Scott will not be bowed. He wants to dance his own steps. All he needs is a partner.

Enter Fran. Fran (Tara Morice) is a shy Spanish girl with bad skin, glasses and a horrible fashion sense. She’s only a beginner dancer, but when Scott loses Liz, Fran asks to dance with him. Scott at first scoffs at the notion he would dance with a mere beginner, but he soon becomes intrigued when he learns she too has invented her own moves. Soon Scott sets about teaching her to dance, so she can become his partner.

This leads to the usual ugly duckling scenes, as Fran is made more attractive, as misunderstandings and insecurities interfere in their relationship, and as Scott learns he doesn’t know everything. Indeed, some of the best scenes in the movie come after Scott meets Fran’s father and grandmother and discovers they too are dancers: “Show me your Paso Doble!”

All the while, Scott’s mother and the rest of the powers that be try to shut him down, to separate him from Fran and to make him dance with Tina Sparkle -- a former Grand Prix winner. They even try to drive Fran away. But Scott will not listen, as he is falling for Fran. As an aside, the scene where Scott’s mother finally realizes what Scott is up to -- when she and everyone else catch Scott and Fran dancing behind a stage curtain, is probably my favorite dance in any film.

With Scott slipping out of their grasp, the powers that be turn up the heat on Scott. A decision is made to tell Scott his father was destroyed by his own selfish desires to dance his own steps. . . a decision that remains a powerful wedge between Scott’s father and Scott’s mother to this very day. But this is all a dirty lie, meant to cover up a shocking betrayal. At the same time, plans are put into place to guarantee Scott cannot win, no matter what he does. But why would this group of glitterati go to such lengths to stop Scott from dancing new moves? Why is he such a risk to them? Because they can’t do these steps, and that means they can’t teach these steps. And that means they lose their power and their jobs. In the words of Chairman Barry Fife: “If you can’t dance a step, you can’t teach it, and if you can’t teach it, we might as well all pack up and go home.”

Now there’s one more thing you need to know. This whole movie is satire. That's right. The Pan Pacific Grand Prix, the event that tears these people apart, is nothing more than a local, amateur dancing competition. That’s it. This makes lines like the following from Barry Fife wonderfully absurd: “Let's not forget, that a Pan Pacific Champion becomes a hero, a guiding light to all dancers, someone who'll set the right example.” Moreover, the characters are wonderfully drawn. Les Kendell sprouts malapropisms every time he speaks. Shirley is so tan she's become orange. Fife plays the heavy from behind a shockingly bad toupee. Ken Railings, the evil competitor, is an alcoholic hot tub salesman. Even Doug Hastings, the henpecked father, has a terrible secret (and a great dance scene). And the cast of dancers are painted and feathered to the absurd.

Many compare this move to Dirty Dancing, but the two really are very different. Whereas Dirty Dancing was entirely serious, Strictly Ballroom is thoroughly tongue in cheek. I also must say the choreography in Strictly Ballroom is superior. Dirty Dancing was very typical Hollywood. It was designed to be flashy and, where it was meant to be sexy, it was obvious and oversexed. The dancing in Strictly Ballroom, by comparison, showed tremendous technical skill. You felt like you were peeking in on dancers testing their limits in private, as compared to Dirty Dancing which felt staged. And unlike the over-sexed Dirty Dancing, I would describe the dances between Fran and Scott as intimate and sensual. Dirty Dancing strikes me as the kind of dancing that would be fun to watch, but Strictly Ballroom strikes me as the kind of dancing you wished you could do.

So how does Ayn Rand fit into this? I doubt Luhrmann had Rand in mind when he wrote this, but he’s absolutely picked up every element of The Fountainhead. Scott, like Roark, is a true talent, a savant. He's also unorthodox, seeing a better way. But the powers that be, a group of certified professionals who lack talent but who are the gatekeepers to Scott’s dream by virtue of their being deigned to be the best by their fellows, are desperate to stop him despite his talent (or because of it). They see him as a threat to their way of life. His talent exposes the lack of theirs, and they would rather society be deprived of what he can achieve than have their own deficiencies laid bare. Thus, they try to sway him, they try to threaten him, they even co-opt those closest to him. Yet, in the end, Scott, like Roark, decides he would rather see his dream destroyed and lose the Gran Prix than sacrifice his principles. In this way, Strictly Ballroom is The Fountainhead only with the 14 hour ending speech by Roark replaced succinctly by Scott with: “Fran, I wanna dance with you!” (and with fewer explosions).

Maybe this is why Strictly Ballroom resonates so well? Maybe this is why Strictly Ballroom is so much more than your typical ugly duckling movie? Perhaps, it's the Randian message of defeating the oppression of the mediocre, of letting the savants set their own standards, that drives this movie home? After all, we can all relate to having been frustrated by people who lacked our vision. Or maybe, we just liked the music?

And while you’re pondering that. . . show me your Paso Doble!

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