Terror in Space
My last post discussed the absence of drama in the survival story of the year’s worst film, After Earth. By contrast, one of the year’s best, Gravity, is a superb survival story. Survival is the only concern in Alfonso Cuarón’s film, as Dr Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) and Matt Kowalsky (George Clooney) must cope with diminishing oxygen, weightlessness and a debris field that will tear them to pieces. As the opening supertext informs the viewer, in space life is impossible, and anyone with ambitions of being an astronaut might find that Gravity gives them pause for thought.
Gravity’s screenplay is textbook simple, a brutally basic survival story. Screenwriters Cuarón and his son Jonás use this simple story to structure terrifying set pieces through extraordinary use of cinematic techniques. The opening shot lasts for over ten minutes, as Stone and Kowalsky move gracefully albeit carefully in the void, before the debris collides with the space shuttle and Stone goes into a terrifying spin. I wrote earlier in the year that films like Zero Dark Thirty and Captain Phillips hit me in a visceral way. Much the same is true of Gravity, surely the closest I am ever likely to come to being in space. Rather than following Stone with intense close-ups that focus on her face, Cuarón and his cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki frequently opt for either direct POV or subjectively-inflected shots, including a long take that begins outside Stone’s helmet, moves inside it and into her POV, and then out again, allowing the viewer to share her position on a visual, aural and experiential level.
As well as these subjectively inflected shots, we sometimes see Stone spinning in long shots, with no apparent attachment, lifeline or hope. The vastness of space and the smallness of humanity is emphasised in these shots through great depth of field that presents the endless void of space. The 3D (which I have written about disparagingly in the past) enhances this sense of being in the void where one could literally spin and fall for ever. 3D is like any cinematic tool, such as CGI, practical effects, music, sound, etc., and like these other tools, when used judiciously it can enhance the experience. That said, I will be interested to watch Gravity again in 2D, and I expect it will still be effective, not least because of the realistic feature of silence. In space, no one can hear you scream, or indeed anything, and the silent vacuum adds another threatening element. The most dominant sounds are voices, breathing and electronic beeps, which emphasise the isolation of the characters in this utterly alien environment. When collisions take place between the debris and the space craft, rather than the familiar (therefore, comforting) sounds of crashing, there is silence. The most striking use of this silence occurs when a space capsule door is opened and the atmosphere rushes out in a silence that is almost deafening. When viewing grave danger, we are accustomed to hearing it at great volume, whether the sounds are screams, shots, explosions or simply the clatter of things against each other. By eschewing sound, Cuarón further enhances the sense of an alien environment where humans are out of place and out of their depth, entirely at the mercy of gravity. The fantastic technical features, combined with Bullock’s performance, ensured that I felt Stone’s anguish and terror on a physical level with each camera lurch, dip and pan.
The technical intricacy involved in Gravity is remarkable: in an interview Cuarón explained that camera set-ups and movements were programmed using equipment similar to those used in car assembly, while production stills show Bullock swimming underwater in greenscreen environments in order to simulate zero-gravity motion.
The attention to detail in the space stations is exquisite, these digital sets appearing both functional and personalised, homes in the most inhospitable environments. Nor is danger ever far away, as not only are oxygen supplies dwindling but the field of debris orbiting Earth repeatedly returns to inflict further damage. The knowledge that the debris is coming, knowledge shared by Stone and the viewer, increases the almost unrelenting tension. There is one, quiet moment of reflection when it appears all hope is lost, which is intensely moving as Stone starts to sink into eternal unconsciousness, her tears seeming to float out of the screen towards the viewer which, again, allows us to share her experience. This moment is brief, however, and the desperate struggle for survival rapidly resumes.
Gravity is cinema at its most beautiful and terrible, taking us to a strange new world in the most visceral and exciting way possible. James Cameron has said that Gravity is the best space movie ever made, and I agree, because it is a film that creates an approximation of being in space, which is relatively rare as most space movies largely take place aboard spaceships. In Gravity, the environment of space itself, along with all its terrible beauty, is created, emphasised and expressed. Cinema at its best is experiential, and the experience of Gravity was one of the most powerful I had this year.
2013 Omissions Part Two – After Oblivion
I’m making a point of posting on films that I neglected to earlier in the year, both good and bad. 2013 featured a number of post-apocalyptic science fiction films, demonstrating what can happen after the end of the world. Technically, this is a contradiction, as by definition there cannot be anything afterwards. This has not stopped “post-apocalyptic” being a genre for decades and the subject of many academic studies. Perhaps it is a misnomer, but “post-apocalyptic” is a recognised generic term which has provided such cinematic offerings as The Road (John Hillcoat, 2006), The Book of Eli (the Hughes Brothers, 2006) Waterworld (Kevin Reynolds, 1995) and The Postman (Kevin Costner, 1997). 2013 saw several contributions to the genre, each with their own take on the surprising amount of stuff that happens after the end of the world.
I did not see Elysium, partly because all reports were of disappointment from Neill Blomkamp after the blistering District 9, but also because the previous post-apocalyptic adventures failed to inspire me. Oblivion (Joseph Kosinski, 2013) offers a standard end-of-the-world scenario – alien invaders bombarded the Earth and left it uninhabitable. Only plucky survivors remain, in this case drone maintenance repair team Jack (Tom Cruise) and Victoria Harper (Andrea Riseborough), and their contact with the evacuees, Sally (Melissa Leo). The film’s production design is convincingly futuristic, sleek and cool. The design includes the comfortable and efficient house-on-mile-high-stilts that the Harpers occupy, a perfect home of the future complete with transparent swimming pool and landing pad for bubble-ship, one of many super cool elements in the film. As one viewer described it, Oblivion shows us the future as designed by Apple, and the sleek surfaces of touchscreens and control panels, drones, house and bubble ship all suggest the synchronism of comfort and efficiency. These are not just technological devices for use, but for pleasure in their use.
Oblivion’s production design also presents a suitably blasted Earth, Iceland providing some spectacular scenery from which the wreckage of the Empire State Building and other structures project like battered skeletons. A buried library provides both a melancholy echo of a lost civilisation and a sinister location for an action set piece, and a multi-levelled underground bunker is a convincing headquarters for a band of freedom fighters. And by way of further contrast, an idyllic valley, untouched by the forces that ravaged the rest of the planet, features trees, a lake and a wooden cabin filled with memorabilia of the past; a refuge for Jack away from high technology and barren landscapes.
The combined effect of this design is to create a palpable possible world, an essential element in future-set science fiction. The production design is the most effective aspect of Oblivion, as it provides this persuasive and involving vision of the future. Post-apocalyptic visions need an element of grimness, due to the extensive death that will have occurred, and the landscape of Iceland provides a suitably sombre setting. However, where Oblivion loses its way is in its exploration of more interesting themes. There comes a point when a major plot point is revealed that proves an effective surprise, and I wanted the film to explore this in more detail, perhaps as a more action-heavy version of Moon (Duncan Jones, 2009). Unfortunately, this was not the case, and Oblivion failed to explore issues of identity and humanity in favour of just having stuff blow up. I have no problem with stuff blowing up, but action set pieces and philosophical themes are in no way mutually exclusive – just look at any blockbuster by James Cameron or Christopher Nolan. Writer-director Joseph Kosinski included an interesting idea, but then largely abandoned it, making the film an overall disappointment.
Oblivion has its problems, but it is a masterpiece compared to the worst film I saw in 2013 – After Earth. M. Night Shyamalan showed such promise at the turn of the century, as The Sixth Sense (1999), Unbreakable (2000) and (most of) Signs (2002) demonstrated intelligent, careful, precise filmmaking. The Village had some great moments and a (literally) jaw-dropping twist, but The Happening (2008) proved a tipping point (I’m yet to see Lady in the Water [2006]). As a director, Shyamalan makes great use of atmosphere, location, camera and sound, ratcheting up tension with the best of them. But this can only distract so far from a nonsensical plot that defuses the tension entirely. The plants are angry? Quick, run away from the wind! I have no problem with films being silly – several Marvel productions are preposterous – but if you’re going to be silly have some fun with it. Shyamalan is not funny, and when a film features a daft central premise it only works if delivered with a sense of humour, severely lacking in anything by this director.
This lack of humour is not only apparent but actually the point in After Earth, which makes The Happening look like Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941). It may not be fair to blame Shyamalan for After Earth’s weaknesses, as the story is credited to Will Smith, but I’m going to blame him anyway, because he co-wrote the screenplay and, more significantly, I’ve seen what he can do and it is crushingly disappointing to see this talent neglected. After Earth revolves around the premise of Rangers, elite soldiers who protect the human race against an undefined foe, being able to ‘ghost’, making themselves invisible to Ursas, creatures created to hunt them. The way in which Rangers ghost is to suppress emotion, mainly fear, which the Ursas can smell. Apparently adrenaline and sweat are not the issue, it is emotion that makes us vulnerable. Consequently, our young hero Kitai Raige (Jaden Smith) must learn to be as cold as his father Cypher (Will Smith) in order to survive after their ship crashes.
This premise has promise and might have made for an interesting film in another context, perhaps similar to a previous Smithonian (see what I did there?) sci-fi appearance, I Am Legend (Francis Lawrence, 2007). But the crash-landing on a planet that turns out to be Earth overwhelms the promising premise, because the film loses focus as it becomes overburdened with trimmings that distract from the central idea. Cypher and Kitai are on Earth, which the human race abandoned due to pollution and over-population, according to Kitai’s opening voiceover. Could this be an environmental film in the vein of Avatar (James Cameron, 2009)? No, because that idea does not reappear. Worse, nothing is made of the fact that they crash on Earth, frankly it could be any hostile planet, unlike Oblivion, which makes a point of Earth of being a memory (and a future) worth fighting for. Therefore, it makes no difference or sense to have the bulk of After Earth’s action take place on Earth, aside from giving the title a weight that the film as a whole lacks. The science makes absolutely no sense, as, according to Cypher, everything on Earth has ‘evolved to hunt humans’, a remarkable achievement seeing as humans abandoned the planet 1000 years ago. What were the animals evolving in response to? Every night Earth’s temperature drops to below freezing and ice coats everything. So why is the planet covered in tropical rainforest? I can forgive plenty of cod science (yes, Star Trek Into Darkness, I mean you), but internal contradictions like tropical environment that goes polar overnight is jarring and annoying. Not as jarring and annoying, however, as a giant bird of prey that suddenly abandons its need for food and sacrifices itself for the main character, purely for plot reasons. Perhaps more could have been made of this development by having Kitai and the bird develop some form of relationship, like Cody and the eagle Marahute in The Rescuers Down Under (Hendel Butoy, Mike Gabriel, 1990), but instead, it’s just a random episode with no further impact.
I tend to focus on concepts and premises, thematic content and how convincingly it is expressed through cinematic means. Normal people like character and plot, and After Earth has problems there as well. The Raige family are hardly harmonious because Cypher is always working, always emotionless and therefore a distant father and husband, while Kitai blames himself for his sister’s death. A moving portrait of a father and son learning to communicate again, perhaps like Real Steel (Shawn Levy, 2011)? No, because Kitai has to become like Cypher to survive, i.e. cold and distant, and Cypher is right to be that way so must not rediscover his humanity. Perhaps this could be challenged by Kitai, who learns to balance his humanity with survival, or even raise questions like one of the year’s unexpected delights, Ender’s Game (Gavin Hood, 2013). No, because every time an idea like this is raised, it is abandoned just as quickly, giving the characters no arc of development other than the survival story.
None of this would matter if the survival story was actually dramatic, but Shyamlan fails to inject energy or any major sense of threat beyond individual set pieces. Kitai fleeing a horde of ferocious baboons is fine, as is his scrapping with a sabre-tooth cat, but his encounters with the Ursa are lifeless and dull, mainly because the goal of these battles is for Kitai to become inert and dull. My response to the film consisted of a series of ‘Yes, but what about, oh never mind’; ‘That looks interesting can we go back to, oh never mind’; ‘Why aren’t we dealing with, oh never mind’. Overall, I wish no one had minded enough to make it in the first place. Easily, the turkey of the year.
Fifty Shades of NC-Seven-KERCHING?
A while ago, I posted on Don Jon, which some writers feared might be rated NC-17, but did qualify for an R, and an 18 certificate in the UK (I missed it at the cinema so the review will have to wait for the DVD). A forthcoming adaptation of the bestselling novel by E. L. James, Fifty Shades of Grey, is likely to face a similar issue. Don Jon is, according to its writer-director-star, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, not about porn, and the same is true of Fifty Shades of Grey, because it is porn. This is not me being moralistic, it’s just a description: Fifty Shades of Grey is a titillating tale of sexuality that provides in-depth, graphic description of sexual organs and activities, all rendered in terms designed to arouse the viewer and give them a ringside seat for all the action. Come the movie version, we may have an even better seat.
Or will we? Will the film be presented coyly and with discretion, not treating the viewer to explicit sexual scenes? If so, it runs the risk of alienating its primary fanbase, as the major selling point about the book is its sexual explicitness. But including even some of the graphic detail risks the dreaded NC-17 rating, barring any viewers under the age of 17 from seeing the film. This is a pretty severe and fairly rare rating, usually only awarded to films with strong sexual material such as Lust, Caution (Ang Lee, 2007), The Story of O (Just Jaeckin, 1975) and Wide Sargasso Sea (John Duigan, 1992). NC-17 films tend to perform poorly at the box office, because of the restricted audience that can see them and the limited number of theatres that will exhibit them. Lust, Caution, for instance, earned $4.6 million at the US box office from a budget of $15 million, while Wide Sargasso Sea’s domestic gross was only $1.6 million. As a result, when the MPAA awards an NC-17 rating, the distributor often appeals the decision or makes edits to obtain an R rating. If it fails, the film has a better chance of profiting from DVD and download sales, as indeed do many less restricted films.
I hope this does not happen in the case of Fifty Shades of Grey. I hope that the film retains the sexually explicit content of the book and receives an NC-17 rating, and receives wide distribution that helps it become a hit (although if the screenwriter could make the relationship less abusive, that’d be nice). An NC-17 blockbuster could be a major game-changer, especially if it leads to a cycle of sexually explicit films that are also widely circulated and do well commercially. As long as audiences for sexually explicit material are marginalised, such material will remain taboo and niche. To have a mainstream NC-17 hit would be a refreshing step towards acceptance and away from hysteria, especially considering the reaction to the novel.
E. L. James’ book attracted a great deal of controversy for a variety of reasons. Some lambast it for being a terrible book, violating rules of literature that are apparently universal and self-evident (i.e., arbitrary and undefined). Taking the same privilege, I found it tedious, repetitive and obvious, a 520-page book that could easily have been 300 pages. The sex scenes were, I admit, provocative, but there’s only so many times I will read descriptions of arousal and intercourse before I start shouting ‘Get on with the plot!’ The book also has some very problematic depictions of relationships and gender, but there is also a questionable aspect to the criticism. Fifty Shades of Grey has been ridiculed as ‘mummy porn’ – a label the author has protested against and described as ‘lazy’, suggesting that ‘mummy porn’ is a foolish piece of smut for horny, middle-aged women who should clearly know better. The gender politics of this criticism are problematic in themselves – if women of any age (or men for that matter) want to read about sexual activity, why shouldn’t they? Is it especially offensive to our sensibilities that woman of a certain age have sexual identities? Sadly, there is this view and, while I did not enjoy the book myself, I applaud anyone, especially the apparent key audience, who read it in public and are not embarrassed. There is nothing wrong with sex, nor with erotic fiction, and if mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, sisters, brothers or anybody want to read this, the truly dubious behaviour comes from those who judge themselves better than others.
As to the possibility of mainstream success for the film of Fifty Shades of Grey, I am not advocating giving young audiences easy access to pornography – that would be redundant with all the free porn on the Internet (no, I will not provide links). What I want to see is the mainstreaming of sexually explicit cinema. Lars Von Trier’s Nymphomaniac is probably not going to manage this, as Von Trier’s credentials/reputation as well as the subject matter will likely confine this to art cinema regulation. The distributors of Fifty Shades of Grey, Focus Features, might believe there is a big enough audience to make it into widespread circulation, and hopefully with the explicit material left in. Just as adults need not be embarrassed about reading or indeed watching sex, it would be very refreshing for sexually explicit cinema to be released outside specialist cinema exhibition.