Review - Pacific Rim

In his "State of Cinema" talk, Steven Soderbergh talked about "Mayhem Porn."  In his example, this refers to viewing clips from action movies that feature nothing but the fighting, the explosions, the nasty bits, while passing on the rest, i.e., narrative, dialogue, plot.  Throughout the rest of his talk, Soderbergh talks about cinema versus movies.  The former is something that is made and the latter is something that you watch.  The former is an idea created and presented by a filmmaker and the latter is a product manufactured and tested by studios.  These two entities have various relationships.  The most obvious one being contentious.  Though some directors, such as Christopher Nolan, have managed to shroud the former in the latter.  And while Nolan's earlier films are more interesting the Batman trilogy and Inception managed to sneak in a bit of substance when the lights went down for those films.  So, while there are filmmakers out there doing strong genre work, there is also an enormous and ever-growing amount of bullshit built on existing IP that are nothing more than extended commercials which these studios use to slacken our jaws and sell us toys and corn-based products and Halloween costumes. These films perform exceedingly well financially and are the bread and butter of studios.  The public continues to shell out its twelve dollars even in an economy that has been stagnant with regard to wage raises and employment. 

All this is to say, that while I do understand the shifting dynamics of entertainment and substance, people's willingness to pay for spectacular, albeit banal, entertainment, and the desire to surf on the wave of what is currently hot:  Why the fuck is everyone so enamored with such mediocre garbage?  This is not a plea to stop watching crap.  There is a great need for spectacle.  For garbage.  Sometimes it is just about escaping.  Everything you consume need not be meaningful in, and of, itself.  Though (and here is the main takeaway) just because you like something, does not mean it is good and just because something is good, does not mean you have to like it.  This is what discourse is for and, by extension, what art is for.  Why is something good?  Why is something boring?  What is the point?  Is that point meaningful? Why should I give a shit?  Indeed, why should you?   

Which brings me to my next talking point, Pacific Rim.  A mediocre film if ever there was one.  If I were grading it I would mark it a "C".  The film succeeds completely during the robot/monster portions and fails completely during the character portions and so "C" is a nice, round average.  The world of the Kaiju (monsters) and Jaegers (mechas) is rich and interesting.  The writers and Del Toro spared no detail creating a convincing space in which these fantastic beings could collide at inhuman speeds.  Anyone who has seen Del Toro's other work knows that world-building is his specialty.  There is a deep history of the Kaijus attacks and humanity's many attempts at thwarting them.All of the Kaijus and Jaegers are named and are distinguishable from the rest of their respective cohorts.  (A rare feat in the giant robot fight movie.)   And a lot of time was also spent on the physics of the behemoths.  The Kaiju are quick and agile like their reptile brethren.  They swim with ease and some can even fly.  In short, they move naturally like animals.  Jaegers, on the other hand, lumber about, wading through water one big step at a time.  They can be quick but they move like what they are: machines.  The match up of these two forces is thrilling to watch.  Jaegers beat down their slithering foes with repeated punches but the Kaiju can turn the tide in a moment, its sinewy claws tearing through plate metal and shifting gears. 

On a nostalgic note, this a strong entry in two great traditions.  The Kaiju tradition includes characters such as Godzilla, Gamera, and Rodan.  While the Jaegers are born out of the mecha tradition which includes Macross, Gundam, and Neon Genesis Evangelion.  What we are treated to is a large scale battle of nature versus technology, all in the name of preventing the apocalypse.  Anyone interested in living out their vicarious Power Ranger fantasies need to stop reading and go see this movie.

All of that enjoyable mayhem is vastly encumbered by the trite characters and their meaningless conversations about nothing.  The plot is filled with so many clichés it is as if the story was just mended on last minute so that this could be a feature film instead of a SyFy special:  Robots v. Aliens!

Let us count the clichés:

1.  Character sustains a loss fighting the enemy and so the character is unfit to fight.  The character inevitably must fight.  This includes two main characters: Raleigh and Mori.  Tiresome dialogue about being the best but not being fit ensue.  This does not work because it is telegraphed early in the film that these characters will undoubtedly fight, undoubtedly win, and probably live.  Interestingly enough, this was used in Skyfall, but it was not tiresome.  Rather it was used to undermine and expand the Bond archetype, which is what the Daniel Craig/Bond films have been doing all along. 

2.  Character almost dies doing something.  They will die if they do it again.  Character is compelled to do it again.  Stacker will die if he pilots a Jaeger again.  Read:  Stalker will pilot a Jaeger again as a sacrifice to the cause.  Self-sacrifice  is an interesting narrative arc and should potentially read as an amazing moment.  But after years of film and television and fine tuning through focus groups, this contrived and (again) trite plot device is telegraphed early.  Of course he is getting in the Jaeger and dying.  An argument here would be, "Of course he is going to fight, it is the apocalypse."  While that is true, it only serves my point.  The plot has been manufactured to serve the dramatic end of this character through self-sacrifice.  I am looking at you Randy Quaid in Independence Day.

3.  Dramatic training sequence wherein the main characters/love interests spar and gain respect for one another while ramping up sexual tension.  Neo and Morpheus.

4.  Pointless rivalry between hero and a team member that turns into mutual respect because.
"You can be my wingman anytime."  Need I say more?

5.  Obligatory battle pep talk.  "We are canceling the apocalypse."  "They may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom."  "Today we celebrate our independence day."  "For you are in Elysium, and you are already dead."

6.  The hero lives when he clearly should not.  A la The Dark Knight Rises. 

There are more but this should suffice.  The plot is in service of sequences featuring robots fighting monsters, which are infinitely more enjoyable.  Screenplay writer Travis Beacham said that in an early draft Raleigh and Mori were meant to not understand one another until late in the film when they had drifted multiple times.  This idea alone is more interesting than anything presented by the film.  In that scenario, the audience is presented with humanity's struggle of coming together in a very real way.  If we cannot communicate, how can we make a concerted effort?  And in that case, what is our case as a worthwhile species to keep possession of our property, i.e., earth?

To take it back to the point made earlier.  I like this film, but I do not think it is good.  It is an entertaining, rainy action romp that fails only when it lets up.  The dialogue and character scenes should be offering a dynamic opposition to the big fight scenes but they are times for hitting the bathroom and mocking our heroes.  (Certainly the latter is a favorite past time.)  So when Soderbergh talks about mayhem porn I have to disagree with him in this case.  I could not abide anything but the mayhem.  At least it is interesting to look at.

 

The Counselor: A Response to the Defenders

Is anyone else tired of reading these reactionary pieces from critics defending The Counselor?  I have read Scott Founda's 'Rearview' for Variety and Devin Faraci's "In Defense of The Counselor" for BadAssDigest.  They are not tiresome because I disagree - which I do - or because they are not coming from reputable sources - which they are - but rather, because the arguments are poor.  Misters Founda and Faraci have made arguments claiming detractors (1) do not understand the movie and (2) cannot cope with the movie making you feel uncomfortable.  Both of these arguments have little to no merit, in that, they may regard the majority of the movie going public but seem to disregard the experience and acumen that so many of the detracting critics possess.  So if you did not care for The Counselor, fear not, it is not the movie, it is you.  You can just come on back and reassess the situation and realize you are wrong.

Mr. Founda writes that, “Audiences are accustomed to being spoon-fed every last detail.”  Yes, perhaps it is true that the highest grossing films are straight ahead, plot driven and literally spectacular.  They are more interested in entertaining audiences while extracting their dollars for corn-based snacks than in telling an meaningful story involving people with which you can empathize.  However, this does not include all audience members, nor does it include critics – a more discerning group of folk who make their greenbacks writing about this stuff.  Anyone who can appreciate a film by Michael Haneke, Lars Von Trier, Terrance Malick, or Shane Carruth is capable of living without ‘spoon-fed’ plot points and details.  And the films of these directors are prestigious and critically successful: Haneke’s Amour and Malick’s The Tree of Life were both nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars.  In fact, the film does not fail because it is incomprehensible but because it is too comprehensible.  The dialogue leaves no question as to what the film is about.

A word on the dialogue.  This is not good dialogue.  Not because the philosophies expressed are untrue.  Not because they are unrelated to the themes of the film.  But because they are the themes of the film.  The film has no subtext because the characters expose it every time they open their mouths.  And the result is that the plot and characters through these rambling, yet accurate conversations undermine the plot instead of reinforcing it.  Narrative should instead work this way:  all the pieces, all the devices are moving together to inform the same ideas.  Perhaps it will sprawl or be obscure, but opacity is a useful tool.  This film is not too difficult to understand but quite the opposite:  it leaves little to the imagination. 

Mr. Founda writes that, “McCarthy doesn’t write dialogue that sounds like ordinary conversation,” as a way of explaining the interminable conversations.  As a reader of Mr. McCarthy, I am inclined to disagree with this statement.  While Mr. McCarthy features characters in his novels that speak in unnatural and sometimes philosophical ways, this is limited usually to one character: the Judge in Blood Meridian, the trio of men in Outer Dark, or, more popularly, Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men.  The problem in The Counselor is that all the characters speak in this manner.  The point here being that this dialogue is not consistent with Mr. McCarthy’s dialogue as featured in his prose.

(I suppose an argument can be made here that Ed Tom Bell from “No Country for Old Men” is another voice offering philosophical understanding contrary to Chigurh’s.  In this case it is different.  “No Country…” is a film with little dialogue and the recollections of Sherriff Bell are edifying to the story.  Rather than expositing the themes he offers one side to the argument that Mr. McCarthy is presenting and his character, and argument, are made stronger through those monologues.)

Mr. Faraci writes, “People like to be coddled and helped along and made, ultimately, to feel good.”  The first part of this statement echoes Mr. Founda’s quote about being spoon-fed:  disliking the film is due to a difficult and estranging plot line.  But the last part of the sentence, the “made, ultimately, to feel good,” part is another baseless claim about this film.  Going to the cinema, or any engagement with narrative, is not concerned solely with feeling good.  Look at the success of a film such as The Notebook.  Certainly a two dimensional film existing for the sole purpose of eliciting sadness in the viewer and ultimately leading to a cathartic clarity.  If that example is too commercial, look at the films of some of the aforementioned directors.  Michael Haneke traffics in estranging, disturbing and, simply put, difficult cinema and yet he is a respected auteur, who, while divisive, is nonetheless a recipient of praise.  So, the notion that The Counselor is a difficult film, that is not interested in making you “feel good,” is not a qualitative argument to make in regards to its critical success.

One part of the film that is strong is the scene featuring John Leguizamo and Dean Norris.  Mr. Faraci cites this scene writing, “John Leguizamo and Dean Norris have a scene together late in the movie that feels like it came from another film.”  With this I wholeheartedly agree.  This scene comes from the film I would like to see.  The scene works because neither character says anything insightful.  Rather they attempt to grasp the meaning of a brutal act and fail, which is the thesis of the film:  that we can never reconcile our understanding of the world with the brutal, cold-blooded world of the narcotics traffic through these border towns.  (For a more interesting take on this theme read Charles Bowden’s fantastic book Murder City:  CiudadJuarez and the Global Economy's New Killing Fields.)  But instead of allowing the plot to unfold and present the thesis bit by bit, we are bludgeoned with it while, presumably, someone films it and then sends a copy to our respective families.   Hola!