Apollo 18 (2011)

I've always been a space nut.  Since childhood I've been fascinated by rockets, space, and landing on the moon.  I've extensively researched the space program from Mercury through the space shuttle.  I've enjoyed museums and documentaries about space.  I love seeing pictures and film of earth from space.  And the Apollo missions are by far the greatest achievement of manned space flight.

Added to that is the fact that I love thrillers and scary movies.  I'm a sucker for this kind of film, seeing it as escapist entertainment that has at least the possibility of saying something profound.  The best monster movies are really statements about the condition of man, or even a political statement, in the guise of some giant lizard terrorizing Tokyo.

So it can clearly be understood, taking those two interests of mine, why I watched Apollo 18.  Space flight with monsters.  This is a winning formula, and has been since Ridley Scott directed Alien.

How was it, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.  Lousy.  It really is hard to think of even one element of this movie that could have been done worse.  The one thing that I might give any sort of gracious nod toward is that there were a few shots that did indeed look like old footage of Apollo missions.

But that's it.  The script was awful; it seemed like the stunted and anemic work of some high school aspiring writer who thought he had a great concept.  The acting was as bad as I have seen in the past 2-3 years; absolutely no line was delivered in anything approaching a believable way, and no opportunity was passed up to display an over-the-top emotion, or just plain the wrong emotion.  The direction was laughably amateur.  The editing was obnoxious.  The cinematography, meant to resemble found footage, was horrible, distracting, and painful.  The monsters, which resemble (are?) rocks for most of the movie, are never seen clearly and never explained or explored properly.  The effect that these things have on the astronauts is unclear and unexplained.  Nothing is explained, come to think of it.  There are plot holes that are big enough to sink a house.  Even at the end (which you won't mind if I spoil for you, will you?) we see that there is an accident that kills all the remaining astronauts, which only begs the question: if this is supposed to be "found footage" of a secret Apollo mission, who found the footage?  All the tape is out in deep space!

Enough of this abomination.  If you have the choice between this one and vacuuming the carpet, make sure that carpet is nice and clean.  If this is the in-flight movie on your next trip, take a parachute.  You get the idea.

Entertainment: 1/10
Artistic Value: 1/10
Technical Merit: 2/10

Overall: 1/10

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

2001: A Space Odyssey is perhaps the most perplexing, strangest movie that I love.  It's an experience, a work of moving art more than it is a typical movie.  If you've never seen it you need to stop reading now, because it is utterly impossible to discuss this film without spoiling everything strange and shocking about it.

Seriously now, you don't want a movie review to spoil one of film history's most amazing enigmas, do you?

The plot is really hard to define.  We begin by watching a group of apes do typical ape stuff.  This is not what we might expect from a science fiction movie, but apes it is.  These apes encounter...something.  A large black rock (hereafter "The Monolith") that seems to have some effect on them, though it is hard to define exactly what.  These apes then learn to use bones as tools.  Then, in one of the greatest time-jumps of movie history, we are rocketed to the near future, when space travel is common and we are beginning our baby steps into the solar system.  There is a permanent base on the moon, and something has been discovered there.  It is another Monolith, which sends a radio signal out toward Jupiter.  So we jump to the mission to Jupiter that results from this discovery.  This Jupiter mission is the part of the film that has the closest thing resembling a typical movie plot.  Astronauts Dave Bowman and Frank Poole are the crew of the ship heading out into deep space.  I guess technically there are other crewmen; several scientists are in cryosleep, and then there is HAL 9000, the ship artificial intelligence.  But then something goes wrong; HAL predicts the failure of a circuit board, which when replaced is found to be in perfect condition.  At this point there is a paradox, a bit of a conundrum really; since this seems to be an error, and since HAL supposedly cannot make an error, Frank and Dave begin to wonder whether to shut HAL down.  So HAL tries to kill them.  Frank is lost into deep space, and Dave is locked out of the ship in the ship's space pod.  (and thus the exchange "Open the pod bay doors, HAL."  "I'm sorry Dave, I can't do that." becomes movie legend)  To make the long story short, Dave forces his way in, manually shuts HAL down (And by the way, if your computer starts singing "Daisy Belle"...run.), and completes the journey to Jupiter on his own.

And then things REALLY get weird.  At Jupiter Dave discovers another Monolith, and flies his pod toward it.  And then he goes into hyperspeed, or something.  There is a segment of probably about 3-5 minutes of nothing but quickly moving lights and odd patterns.  It's a light and sound spectacular show, but very trippy.  And just as suddenly, Dave finds himself in a hotel room.  Well, it's something like a hotel room anyway.  Very austere, without carpet.  Just hard surfaces and a bed.  Then he sees himself out of the pod.  Then he explores a bit into the bathroom, then sees himself, only now as an older man, eating at a table.  Then the Older Dave knocks over his glass, breaking it, and after looking at the glass glances at the bed and sees himself again, only this time as a very old man.  Old Man Dave is dying, ancient, very close to the end of his life.  Then the Monolith shows up again, and as Old Man Dave reaches out to it he is transformed into a glowing, quasi-spiritual human fetus.  This "Star Child" then is shown floating through the void of space, revisiting earth and watching over the globe as "Thus Spake Zarathustra" plays its epic music in the background once again.

The End.

I remember my very first full viewing of 2001 many years ago.  I remember quite well my initial reaction to what I had just seen.  I think my full thought pattern was as follows: "What?  ...what?  ...did I just...what was...huh?  Really?"  I admit, I was lost and had no clue what I had just seen.  There did not seem to be any rational explanation to what I had just seen.  Other than the obvious, which was that there were film makers who did a LOT of drugs in the 60's.  But now after seeing it many more times, and contemplating long and hard over the various themes of the film (and even reading the book), I think I have a much better understanding of what the film is saying.  And I actually believe it is brilliant, even though I disagree with its conclusions.

This is a movie about a journey, a "space odyssey," as it calls it.  No, not the trip to Jupiter, that's only one very small part.  Really, this is a journey of a whole species, from birth to the evolution of something wholly new.  Evolution is at the heart of this film, but it is a guided evolution as represented here.  Humanity begins when the Monolith is first encountered; what humanity was to become is inspired at that point at the beginning of the film.  And humanity is defined by its tools.  It was the crude bone club that marks the beginning of the human race.    Symbolically, the bone is thrown into the air and becomes a space ship.  Just another stage in evolution, because you see, the human race goes on progresses, and the tools become more complex.

But now something is changing.  Tools enable us to reach into space, but our tools are beginning to get away from us, as symbolized by the floating pen in the middle of the earth to the moon sequence.  Much is made of the tools that humanity has mastered, yet the tools that define us and give us our best advantage over nature are becoming our biggest threat to ourselves.  This is most evident in HAL 9000.  HAL is the greatest tool ever invented by humanity, a flawless computer of exceptional speed and ability.  This perfect tool, designed to carry out its task with perfection, concludes that perfection cannot be attained while the humans it should be helping remain alive.  After all, if the computer cannot make an error and humans can, then what should be done to remove the chance of failure?

HAL fails to kill all the astronauts, with Dave triumphing over him.  Tools cannot be the future of humanity; designing new and better tools only seems to lead to the probability of destruction.  But if tools are not the future, then what is?  Dave discovers the next step in encountering the Monolith again.  He travels beyond space and time, to a place not constrained by distance and sequence.  Certainly this "hotel room" is the most puzzling part of the film.  It is here that Dave, and humanity with Dave as its representative, learns to rid itself of the tools that are now a detriment to further development.  First, Dave leaves the space pod, and that disappears.  Then Dave leaves his suit behind, aging and now eating at a table.  But even the tools of table, utensils, and cup must be rejected; it is when Dave breaks the cup and sees the wine (presumably wine, anyway) spilling out that he is able to take the next step.  He is dying, yet there is a rebirth awaiting.  One more encounter with the Monolith and humanity has finally progressed to the next stage, one needing no tool and constrained by nothing.  The Star Child has been born, and with him the future hope of humanity.

So what does the Monolith represent?  One possibility is that it is a form of life that is far beyond our existence, an alien presence that simply manifests itself in this way.  This is the way the book presents it.  Another way to take the Monolith is simply as a marker, a beacon that indicates major moments of human development.  I personally think the movie makes more sense along this option.

It needn't be said that I disagree utterly with the message of this movie.  As a Christian, I believe what sets humanity apart from the animal kingdom is not the fact we use tools, but rather that we are created in the Image of God.  And the great hope of humanity is not simply progressing beyond tools and flesh, but spiritual rebirth and resurrection with Jesus Christ as Lord.  The worldview of Christianity and the worldview of 2001 could not really be more different.  However, the movie is certainly a work of art, and one that is worthy of appreciation.  And the longing that the movie has for something greater than the physical, something beyond the consumeristic mentality, is laudable.  The sad part is that the movie's hope seems to be that somehow, someday we might possibly maybe perhaps attain a godlike status through unknown means.  This type of optimism is unmerited and actually kinda pathetic.  Humanity needs a better hope; one found in a real Savior who has overcome death and is beyond the limitations of this world.

Technically, this movie is a masterpiece.  The classical soundtrack consists of songs like "Thus Spake Zarathustra" (popularly known now as the song from 2001) and "The Blue Danube."  And with such limited dialogue (you will not hear a whole lot of talking in this one), I almost regard 2001 as a cinematic ballet.  Everything seems to dance with the music; spaceships fly, space stations spin, and apes strike the ground, all in time with the beat.

Beyond that, the special effects are astounding, even by today's terms.  Everything looks fabulous; the shuttles and stations (done with models) are well-conceived and believable, and the weightless moments are perfectly filmed.  Visually, only the "flying at hyperspeed" portion at the end looks dated at all.  Remembering that 2001 was filmed nearly 10 years before Star Wars will also help you appreciate the model work.  And if we consider that this vision of the future was all conceived and filmed before the first moon landing our appreciation will grow by magnitude.

This is a masterpiece, but it is hardly among my favorite films.  To be fair, while it is always interesting it is not always entertaining.  I'm sure that those who only like movies that have tons of action and constant tension would find 2001 a tad on the dull side.  You might even hear the word "boring."  

But I do enjoy 2001.  I find it stimulating as a mental exercise.  In film-history terms, it is a must-see simply due to its unmistakable influence; it is undeniably important and references to it permeate our popular culture.  I also simply enjoy the music and rhythm of the film in the same way that I would enjoy listening to a favorite CD or marveling at ballet or interpretive dance.  This is a deep film, deserving of the recognition it has always received.  2001 is an enigma, a great work of film art that will continue to puzzle and befuddle audiences for years to come.  Yes, I'm a fan.

Entertainment:  4/10
Artistic Value: 10/10
Technical Merit: 10/10

Overall: 8/10

Really?

My Opinion: The fact that there is a movie called Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters makes us all a bit dumber.  That is all.

Fond Memories of Childhood Movies

Some movies do not age well.  They seem fine for their time, but after a while they become horribly dated.  After all, everything that was cool and trendy in the 80's is universally regarded to be terribly bad.  So there are some movies that were cool or on the cutting edge then, but now are as wonderful as leg warmers.

And then there are movies that have never been good, but that I loved when I was a child.  Let's be frank, shall we?  We all loved some really awful things as children.  In my childhood things like Care Bears and He-Man were popular.  He-Man is about a guy who lives in a technologically advanced world but fights with swords, who wields space magic to be immensely strong and explore the cosmos.  Basically, it is Conan the Barbarian meets Buck Rodgers.  Terrible idea.  And yet every boy of my generation thought it was the greatest thing ever.

Here's the issue: I have so many wonderful memories from my childhood.  Included in those memories are favorite movies that I would repeatedly watch over and over.  I loved those movies.  Yet looking back through the murky fog of my memory I wonder about the quality of those films.  I mean, did you ever get the opportunity to watch a movie you simply loved as a kid, only to spend your time aghast, wondering how this movie got to be so bad?

I had that experience with Superman II.  I adored all the Superman movies as a kid (except #4, I think I knew how terrible that one was even as a child) and would watch them countless times.  I remember loving especially #2, with the epic showdown between Supes and General Zod.  Then I watched it again when I was about 24.  Somehow, Superman II became full of terrible dialogue, questionable acting, poor pacing, and bad overall direction (I know now the powers-that-be replaced Richard Donner before he had a chance even to finish filming).  Someone replaced the dreaded bad guys from my memory of the movie with guys who just posed a lot and told us they were bad guys.  Something about my childhood died the day I rewatched Superman II.

With such a bad experience I am absolutely loath to watch more of my favorites from my younger years.  I'm staying away from Superman III.  I loved Transformers: The Movie (the animated one).  I hear some people say it's not that bad, but do I risk it?  There was another that I loved called The Last Electric Knight (I think that was the full title).  It was some kung fu kid beating up bad guys.  THAT one I'm positive would be painful to watch now.

But my absolute favorite movie as a kid was called Ewoks: The Battle for Endor.  I loved it.  It was a straight-to-TV movie in 1985 about a kid, an old guy, some Ewoks, an alien army with their witch, and some cross between The Flash and an Ewok.

In other words, this movie has "annoying" written all over it.  How bad is it?  I point to exhibit A, the poster for the movie:

Just look at this horrible, horrible artwork.  Look at that.  You can never un-see something that bad.



This is a movie that forgets that the Ewoks don't even live on Endor -they live on the forest moon of Endor.  EVERYONE knows this!




The plot, so far as I can remember, is that the kid is stranded on Endor (really the forest moon) after his parents are killed by bad guys.  The kid is helped by Ewoks and some old dude and the aforementioned giant speedy rodent.  They steal a power source that the bad guys think is magic, fix a broken ship and have a happy ending after a brutal final "defend the alamo" type of showdown.

Of course, I'm sure that none of those elements are nearly so good as they are in my memory.  If I think hard enough I can almost discern very terribly awful acting.  I also seem to remember the Ewoks talking, which simply cannot be a good sign.

I remember enjoying this show so much it still brings happy feelings.  Why should I spoil that by watching this abomination again today?  I think I'll just keep the good memories and stay away.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

"They send you here for life, and that's exactly what they take."

The Shawshank Redemption is the story of Andy Dufrane (Tim Robbins), a man sent to prison for life for the murder of his wife and her lover.  He maintains his innocence, but hey, who doesn't in Shawshank prison?  Only Red (Morgan Freeman) freely admits to his crime -he is the "only guilty man in Shawshank."  As the story goes, Red and Andy strike up a friendship, pass the time, find work to do, and deal with both guards and dangerous inmates.

But of course, there is much more than that.  (as a fair warning, I'll be spoiling absolutely everything about the plot in this review.)

Shawshank is a story about life.  Sure, it all takes place in a prison, but really the movie is about the human condition and our need for redemption.  We may not be trapped by stone walls, but we are all trapped on this earth.  In many ways we on the "outside" are not more free than those on the "inside."  Ultimately, our basic problem is the same -in a world of pain and hurt, where there does not appear to be the possibility of anything better coming down the line, is there any reason for hope?

Andy Dufrane, after a compellingly beautiful rebellion against the powers-that-be, gets thrown in solitary for a while.  Upon emerging and cheerfully greeting his friends, they ask him why he can do time in "the hole" so happily.  He replies that he has something deep in him that sustains him.  He urges them not to forget that "There are places in this world that aren't made of stone.  That there's something inside they can't get to, that they can't touch!  That's yours."  To this, Red replies, "What are you talking about?"  Andy: "Hope." Red scathingly replies: "Let me tell you something my friend, hope is a dangerous thing.  Hope can drive a man insane."

Here we have the core of the movie: do we hold onto hope, or do we become institutionalized?  Do we anticipate a day of freedom to come, or do we begin to get used to our prison?  Do we desire to leave the prison, or has our walled world become home?

Brooks, the old man of the prison, is the great example of the institutionalized man.  Through his experience we the audience see the horror of the man who, having spent the chief portion of his life in Shawshank prison, is forced to leave and rejoin society.  But how can he rejoin society?  It is a world he doesn't understand, a world he left far behind.  His only home is Shawshank, and he considers re-offending just to get back.  He faces a stark truth -he is unable to go home to what is comfortable, yet unable to fit in on the "outside."  He is free, but prefers the cage.  That's institutionalized.  Is it possible to think that this "institutionalization" process can happen to us as well?  What if we are made for another world, yet because of our crimes we are trapped in the prison of this one instead?  What if we come to accept our cage, then come to depend on it, then come to love it?  What if we get to that point where we are unable to imagine that we even could live in true freedom?

That's the need we have for redemption.  Without it, even freedom is captivity and a horror.  Without redemption, heaven becomes our hell.  It's just too much for Brooks; unable to handle freedom he commits suicide.

And then the parallels start stacking up, and we realize that this movie is really about Red, and not about Andy ("Red" is spelled with the first three letters of "redemption" after all).  Red is also a lifer, a guilty man who has a hard time remembering life outside Shawshank prison.  He needs redemption, a reason to live, not just exist, even if he never leaves the confines of those stone walls.  That's where Andy comes in.  Andy brings the possibility of redemption, and the good news that all the condemned men might still have hope.

Since redemption is such an important plot element in literature and film, there is often a character who represents a type of Jesus Christ.  Andy is that character in The Shawshank Redemption.  He is an innocent man who enters the world of the condemned.  He suffers as a condemned man, though he is innocent.  He performs "miracles," bestowing favors and tastes of the free world on those who are still inside.  He pulls together a band of disciples, teaches them of the outside world again, and after his "death" and (SPOILER!! but you've been warned) "resurrection" those disciples tell and retell his stories.  And all he asks from his disciples is that they have faith, and keep hope alive.

So when Red is finally released on parole, we are left to wonder if he will follow the footsteps of Andy, or the footsteps of Brooks.  Andy has invited him to travel to Mexico, to a town on the Pacific named Zihuatanejo, and find him there.  What will Red choose?  Will he have found redemption, or despair?  The final monologue of the film, narrated by Red, are among the most beautiful lines that I know of in film:  "I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head!  I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain.  I hope I can make it across the border.  I hope to see my friend and shake his hand.  I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in  my dreams."

"I Hope."

Those last two words of the movie resound with meaning.  It has been quite the journey, and not an easy one. But Red has found redemption.

Now, it needs to be said that this movie deserves its "R" rating.  The sheer volume of vulgar language is astounding.  Furthermore, it deals head-on with such uncomfortable prison themes like homosexual rape, brutality, corruption, and suicide.  The main antagonist is a man who spouts Christian lingo and Bible verses, while all the time hypocritically acting in an antichrist way.  I wish I could unreservedly recommend it, but the content of the film makes that impossible.  However, even such content does lend power to the film's resolution.

This is a movie exceptionally well put together, with hardly a line or moment out of place.  It has so much that is memorable, so much that is inspiring, and an ending you'll never forget.  Along with Red, the audience is taken from walls of stone to a limitless horizon at the ocean.  Like Red, we long for the Pacific.  We long for a place with no memory, a place of true freedom, a place where our Savior has gone to prepare a place for us.

Entertainment:  7/10
Artistic Value: 10/10
Technical Merit: 8/10

Overall:  9.5/10

Remakes and Movies Worth Making

Right now I'm reading through Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities.  I'm again astonished at how wonderfully tight, personal, and yet epic in scope the plot of this novel is.  Really, it ought to be a great movie, but there hasn't been a serious attempt to film it in decades, and certainly no definitive version.  I'd love to see a big budget movie that deals reverently with the source material and gets this story right.

What we certainly don't need is Hollywood making new versions of movies that have already been done right.  Hollywood is reportedly remaking Rebecca, which Hitchcock adapted masterfully in 1940.  It needs no remake, it just needs modern audiences to get over their phobia of black and white film.  Worse, there is also a My Fair Lady remake in pre-production.  Tell me honestly, what can they possibly improve on?  How could this remake even remotely be better than the 1964 classic with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn?  (aside from the decision to dub Hepburn's singing voice, I can't name a single flaw in the first My Fair Lady.)  Some movies just plain should NEVER be remade, and My Fair Lady is one of them.

Could you imagine a remake of Citizen Kane?  The idea is nigh unto blasphemy! (ok, not quite that far!)  How about Casablanca?  The Godfather?

But for all my indignation at the whole concept of remakes, I have to admit there are times when a remake is a good idea.  The 1959 Charlton Heston classic Ben-Hur is technically a remake; the story had first been very successfully filmed in 1925.  However, that version was silent, and limited by the techniques and technology of its age.  By 1959 they had the technology, the know-how, and the budget, to give the story the enormously epic treatment it deserved.  That was a remake worth making.

So Here's The Question:
Are there old movies that Hollywood really SHOULD remake?

I've got perhaps one or two:
-Godzilla.  Now understand: the original (Japanese) is a classic that is amazingly influential.  But it hasn't aged well as a film.  The special effects were amazing in its day, but now it just looks like a guy in a rubber suit stomping on models.  Plus, they (SPOILER ALERT!) kill it with an "oxygen exploder."   I swear I'm not making that up.  Time for a good remake.  The Matthew Broderick version doesn't count, 'cause I said a "good" remake.  And believe it or not, there is one scheduled for release in 2014.  We'll see if it's good.

-Metropolis.  This is a classic silent film that simply set all kinds of trends for science fiction.  But it is a stinkin' long film (153 minutes of no talking is LONG) that feels every bit as long as it is, with groundbreaking yet questionable special effects.  Time for an update with sound.

So what do you think?  Are there remakes that ought to happen?

Red Tails (2012)

The story of the Tuskegee airmen needs to be told.  It is the inspiring true story of a segregated group of black pilots and ground crew who rose above prejudice and racial politics to become one of the most celebrated and decorated air units in World War 2.  This story needs to be told.

But the story needs to be told much better than it is in the movie Red Tails.  Simply put, Red Tails is beyond disappointing, combining poor writing and some of the worst acting I've seen in a long time.  Ultimately the blame for such a horrible movie falls on the director, Anthony Hemmingway, and by extension also upon the producers, including George Lucas.

The story here, being that it is based on history, is overall not bad.  They managed to focus on a good selection of the air squadron, distilling many stories into just a few characters that we could easily follow.  The problem was the execution.  Much of the writing was very poor, particularly individual lines.  Compounded upon that was the fact that the lines were then delivered so terribly it was unbearable to watch.  Lines like "I sure hope those red tails are with us again tomorrow" are bad enough (in context).  That the line is read in such a way that a high school drama seems better is just embarrassing.  Not even Cuba Gooding Jr. and Terrence Howard -two perfectly decent actors in their own right -could turn in good performances.  They just are not given much to work with, and the directing is so obviously bad they must have spend most of the time feeling underused.

It's been a while since Hollywood put out a good WW2 dogfighting film, so most of the flying stuff felt fun and lively.  There was once or twice that the visuals just didn't seem very good, but overall the dogfighting was the best part of the film.

I watched Red Tails hoping for something like a cross between Glory and Twelve O'Clock High. What I got instead was a hopeless mess with a lot of expensive sparkle.  Maybe someday the Tuskegee airmen will get the film tribute they deserve.  It just hasn't happened yet.

Entertainment: 3/10
Artistic Value: 4/10
Technical merit: 3/10

Overall: 3/10