T's Take on Alien
Best
one
ever.
Next movie.
I seriously considered letting that be my review, but I'm sure M will pour more thought and insight into hers, and I fear her wrath.
Alien was my first real, hardcore, balls-out nerdy science fiction movie. It was delivered from my Father's quaking hands and into the VCR with the kind of relish and pride one would feel watching his adolescent son down an adult boar with naught but a sharp stick. I devoured it immediately and rewatched my favorite scenes at length until I had the dialogue memorized and every fleeting glimpse of the Alien itself ingrained in my mind. The pacing, the characterization, the dialogue, the very mythology this groundbreaking movie lays at our collective feet is astonishing to behold. My favorite scenes were never the gruesome or action(ish) bits - they were the underplayed silent portions where characters interacted with this believably big and complex hulk of technology. I could watch the crew groggily amble through hallways absent-mindedly flipping switches and pulling levers to manipulate that oblong spaceship all day.
The normalcy of Alien made it great. The relatability of the maintenance guys rolling their eyes and groaning when asked to do something, or the waves of tension that ripple through all levels of a team when their leader is weak... Company policy and aggravating protocol (which will inevitably be overlooked by employees when left to their own devices) paired with the simplicity of human intellect and the fragile nature of our bodies and minds. Truly, the goal of good science fiction is to point out the similarities between their fictitious circumstances and ours. The juxtaposition between piloting the Nostromo over an uncharted planet in the Whatever sector of blibbity-blah and watching the main characters bitching about shitty food and pay discrepancies in the mess hall is an easy and fun card to play.
I guess the worst part about reviewing movies you already love is finding things to gripe about. I suppose I could have done with more awesome violence. People like the Alien movies because they enjoy watching the perplexing and unique species interacting with people and whatever environment the narrative finds us in. At the same time, we keep coming back because we know so little. I'm content to let this sleeping dog lie. Death by space-creature is awesome.
Watch Alien.
Showing posts with label 1970s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1970s. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
M's Musings on ALIEN
Alien. Dir. Ridley Scott. Screenplay by Dan O'Bannon. Ft. Sigourney Weaver, Bolaji Badejo, Yaphet Kotto, Tom Skerritt, Veronica Cartwright, Harry Dean Stanton, John Hurt, and Ian Holm. 20th Century Fox, 1979.
**I should clarify that T & I watched the Director's Cut from 2003, which had (apparently) about four minutes of footage that was changed from the original.
A family member once described Sigourney Weaver to me as one of the most beautiful women in the world. When I confessed that I had no idea who she was, I was told she was the woman in the Alien movies. As will quickly become a recurring theme in these posts... I knew nothing about this film. Until today! She is indeed, beautiful. But, it seems to me, she can also demand to be heard, think on her feet, and survive an alien encounter (or two, or three!).
The dynamic between the different crew members on the film, largely separated by class, stood out for me as a point of interest. This crew was not bonded together in a thick-as-thieves kind of way. Each person performed their function, with only the repairmen, engineers Parker and Brett, showing a real sense of camaraderie. The "natural" submission of Brett to his superior officer is questioned by Ripley, who disagrees with his complacence and willingness to obey. I kind of liked that the two men stuck together against the badgering of the rest of the crew.
More to the point, I liked that the crew didn't "come together" as a result of the crisis. The characters do what they are told, but we don't learn about their wives back home, the children that they have never met, or any other personal details that allow us to bond with the characters or see relationships building between them. At all times, a sense of order was imposed by one officer or another. The crew seemed to generally follow the pecking order, and, after a loss or removal of a crew member, who re-jig the hierarchy based on the remaining group members. I found the whole thing quite without emotion, except for the occasional "OMG!" or "WTF?"
Even after Kane's face is raped by the Alien and it later explodes out of his chest, the crew offers few words of condolence or emotion as he is launched into space. In fact, only Lambert seems to be unable to keep her shit together. Her job at the beginning of the movie is to help chart our progress, and by mid film, her job is to snivel and scream and be passively taken by the Alien into his mucky-goo lair.
I also loved that though Ripley is protagonist of the film, this is not made clear until near the end. As she demands to be heard as she is overridden by the other characters, we follow their stories until they meet their timely demises. It isn't she that is the star of the film, she is simply the only one who makes it to the end. While we are meant to associate with her the most (cause really, we, the audience, would also make it through the ordeal) it is the wordless, evolving Alien that is only character that audience really connects with.
The interior and exterior of the ship were impressive. I loved the computer fortress room that was Mother. It was excellent that the two computers betrayed the humans, and particularly that the mother character was pithy, emotionless, and generally uninterested in the fate of hew crew.
I suppose my only criticism with the film is that the Alien itself was played by a tall black man. Bolaji Badejo, a Nigerian design student, was asked to play the role because of his height (7'2). The fact that his body was considered "alien" seems vaguely offensive. I suppose given technology restraints they needed SOMEONE to go into a suit, though so many of the earlier versions of alien seemed to be modeled on aquatic life, insects and animals. Why did the alien NEED to evolve to a vaguely humanoid shape? Are we afraid of something out there? Or, are we still expressing our fear of the other through projecting "alien" characteristics onto other human beings? Though I don't think this really is the ultimate goal of the film, it is still something to be aware of.
To end on a happy (but perhaps unrelated) note, I think the cat was the most alien creature in the film. Having recently inherited three kittens, I can't help but constantly be surprised by the actions they take and their general treatment of their "lesser" human counterparts. Why didn't the crew just do what it did? It managed to survive and get snuggles during the sleep-freeze process. Smart little bugger.
**I should clarify that T & I watched the Director's Cut from 2003, which had (apparently) about four minutes of footage that was changed from the original.
A family member once described Sigourney Weaver to me as one of the most beautiful women in the world. When I confessed that I had no idea who she was, I was told she was the woman in the Alien movies. As will quickly become a recurring theme in these posts... I knew nothing about this film. Until today! She is indeed, beautiful. But, it seems to me, she can also demand to be heard, think on her feet, and survive an alien encounter (or two, or three!).
The dynamic between the different crew members on the film, largely separated by class, stood out for me as a point of interest. This crew was not bonded together in a thick-as-thieves kind of way. Each person performed their function, with only the repairmen, engineers Parker and Brett, showing a real sense of camaraderie. The "natural" submission of Brett to his superior officer is questioned by Ripley, who disagrees with his complacence and willingness to obey. I kind of liked that the two men stuck together against the badgering of the rest of the crew.
More to the point, I liked that the crew didn't "come together" as a result of the crisis. The characters do what they are told, but we don't learn about their wives back home, the children that they have never met, or any other personal details that allow us to bond with the characters or see relationships building between them. At all times, a sense of order was imposed by one officer or another. The crew seemed to generally follow the pecking order, and, after a loss or removal of a crew member, who re-jig the hierarchy based on the remaining group members. I found the whole thing quite without emotion, except for the occasional "OMG!" or "WTF?"
Even after Kane's face is raped by the Alien and it later explodes out of his chest, the crew offers few words of condolence or emotion as he is launched into space. In fact, only Lambert seems to be unable to keep her shit together. Her job at the beginning of the movie is to help chart our progress, and by mid film, her job is to snivel and scream and be passively taken by the Alien into his mucky-goo lair.
I also loved that though Ripley is protagonist of the film, this is not made clear until near the end. As she demands to be heard as she is overridden by the other characters, we follow their stories until they meet their timely demises. It isn't she that is the star of the film, she is simply the only one who makes it to the end. While we are meant to associate with her the most (cause really, we, the audience, would also make it through the ordeal) it is the wordless, evolving Alien that is only character that audience really connects with.
The interior and exterior of the ship were impressive. I loved the computer fortress room that was Mother. It was excellent that the two computers betrayed the humans, and particularly that the mother character was pithy, emotionless, and generally uninterested in the fate of hew crew.
I suppose my only criticism with the film is that the Alien itself was played by a tall black man. Bolaji Badejo, a Nigerian design student, was asked to play the role because of his height (7'2). The fact that his body was considered "alien" seems vaguely offensive. I suppose given technology restraints they needed SOMEONE to go into a suit, though so many of the earlier versions of alien seemed to be modeled on aquatic life, insects and animals. Why did the alien NEED to evolve to a vaguely humanoid shape? Are we afraid of something out there? Or, are we still expressing our fear of the other through projecting "alien" characteristics onto other human beings? Though I don't think this really is the ultimate goal of the film, it is still something to be aware of.
To end on a happy (but perhaps unrelated) note, I think the cat was the most alien creature in the film. Having recently inherited three kittens, I can't help but constantly be surprised by the actions they take and their general treatment of their "lesser" human counterparts. Why didn't the crew just do what it did? It managed to survive and get snuggles during the sleep-freeze process. Smart little bugger.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
M's Musings on MARATHON MAN
Marathon Man. Dir. John Schlesinger. Book & Screenplay by William Goldman. Ft. Dustin Hoffman, Laurence Olivier, Roy Scheider. Paramount, 1976.
As a fellow grad student, I know what it is like to be completely absorbed in your work, to the detriment of your personality, social life, social skills and general well being. Dustin Hoffman, you couldn't pull this off if you wanted to. Spend three or four months in front of a laptop screen eating not-quite-expired food, and then I think you would be better able to get "inside" your character.
One thing I like about DH is that he isn't really all that good looking. By no means is he tragic, but he isn't terrifyingly rugged in a way that is distracting and uncomfortable. Hell, if he could pull off Tootsie and still land a lady, he has proven his masculinity (I guess?).
Hated the new ending. The whole book is about Babe learning to be less naive and to FINISH SOMETHING HE STARTED. Its about agency and control, which he asserts far less by watching Szell fall down the stairs. No longer talking to shadowy imaginings, but standing up and taking charge is really important. If he was able to kill all the bad guys, then he has actually taken revenge... or grown up... or entered the real world... or something of the sort.
Eating the diamonds was also a strange choice. Was it because the jewels would have been stored in various Jewish body cavities to keep them from the Nazis, like Szell? I didn't follow that. I liked it better when the idea was that he doesn't even see the diamonds until he is in the process of throwing them away. And, by throwing them into a body of water, instead of some treatment plant, I felt like they were returning to the earth, instead of being processed (much like the Jews in the Holocaust?). Why did the diamonds go through the same "cleansing" process? I don't know. Maybe I am way off base.
I really liked the Doc character. He was charming and didn't get enough screen time. I wish they had shown the scene with him conversing with the other double agent. It would have really filled out his character. I found the transition to him being Babe's brother really awkward and confusing. There was no build up whatsoever.
Final thoughts? Definitely worth watching. Maybe even more so if you aren't comparing it against the book. I heard on the interweb it was one of the first big screen movies to use a steadicam. A kind of interesting tidbit.
Final final thoughts? A great read. Definitely pick it up. Many thanks to a dear friend for encouraging me to read it many years ago (though I didn't read it until yesterday).
T's Take on MARATHON MAN
Recorded Thoughts During:
M: Dustin Hoffman was a lot younger in the seventies. Or whatever.
Early on, Dustin Hoffman takes off after a real life man on his usual running trail, trying desperately to catch him, and fails. I asked M what was going on, and she tells me she thinks it was supposed to be a projection of a runner, and we suddenly see a film-grainy projection of a runner.
They did not pull that off.
T: I had definitely forgotten the breadth of this movie's narrative. It's super complicated.
Best quote of the movie occurs in front of white and orange decorative steps that lead nowhere in the fountain: "Iz ZAT zee TROOF?" Wicked.
T: How's your secret agent man? He got duped and killed in by an old Nazi dude.
M: This was different in the book. (repeat x300)
The Nitty Gritty
Running for a long time should have struck me as an incredibly useful attribute prior to this movie, but it never has. Dustin Hoffman running barefoot through rubble freshly anesthetized and tortured was completely nails. My favorite thing about this movie was that it showed people can be useless student runners in the stupid nineteen seventies and still potentially be completely Boss. Dustin Hoffman's character (whats-his-face) is sort of a dweeber who pales in the face of femininity and purposely undercuts himself as a matter of habit. William Goldman, author of both novel and screenplay, delivers an effectively complex and human character in whats-his-face. It feels much less like a staged confluence of events and more like a man wrestling with his environment, truly the mark of any movie successfully attempting intrigue.
... Except for all the secret agent stuff. Those parts felt somewhat shoehorned-in and arbitrary, but I love any work that takes stabs at government conspiracy and give theoretical insight into messy rudderless clandestine organizations. That is a very popular note to strike, and whatever shortcomings I found in the blocky, uninspired action sequences and often stiff acting from supporting characters were infinitely made up for by the realistic feeling that one is Caught Up in something plausible and decidedly Bigger in Scope.
At this juncture I would like to alert the reader to spoilers: the book, as I'm informed by M, ends with whats-his-face shooting the dastardly Nazi and throwing the rest of the diamonds into the water just as the police arrive. The movie, however, sees the Nazi chasing the remainder of the diamonds down the metal staircase and falling on his own blade, Hoffman's character absconding with his gun and tossing it (presumably along with his baggage over his father's suicide) into the water along his daily jogging route.
If I might venture a guess, it seems to me that William Goldman might have been less satisfied with a character who, when given a Nazi and a gun, thinks to himself: "Kay." and shoots the motherfucker like some kind of desperado jerkwad. I felt like the story begged a more philosophically satisfying ending. What's-his-face wasn't a killer, even if his genealogy predicted it. Torture aside, he didn't want to see people die over this, he just wanted to get on with his life and right the existing wrongs. Call me a school child, but the message is stronger, and smarter. Why would this guy murder an essentially unarmed old man (granted, knife, but whatever!) and throw a billion dollars worth of diamonds away so he can take the wrap, ruin his reputation, life and career to go to jail? It ain't murder if you didn't shoot anyone, and it's not moral highground if you shortcut. A Nazi being captured by the police or falling on his own blade is like... The universe unfolding as it should. Shooting him down from ten yards away with a Colt .45 while he begs for his life is murder, Nazi torturing fuck or no.
So given the ending, I liked the movie I watched a lot more than the book I didn't read. It made more sense to me, in any case. I would recommend this movie to anyone I like and indeed, it had been far too long since I'd rewatched it.
Watch Marathon Man.
M: Dustin Hoffman was a lot younger in the seventies. Or whatever.
Early on, Dustin Hoffman takes off after a real life man on his usual running trail, trying desperately to catch him, and fails. I asked M what was going on, and she tells me she thinks it was supposed to be a projection of a runner, and we suddenly see a film-grainy projection of a runner.
They did not pull that off.
T: I had definitely forgotten the breadth of this movie's narrative. It's super complicated.
Best quote of the movie occurs in front of white and orange decorative steps that lead nowhere in the fountain: "Iz ZAT zee TROOF?" Wicked.
T: How's your secret agent man? He got duped and killed in by an old Nazi dude.
M: This was different in the book. (repeat x300)
The Nitty Gritty
Running for a long time should have struck me as an incredibly useful attribute prior to this movie, but it never has. Dustin Hoffman running barefoot through rubble freshly anesthetized and tortured was completely nails. My favorite thing about this movie was that it showed people can be useless student runners in the stupid nineteen seventies and still potentially be completely Boss. Dustin Hoffman's character (whats-his-face) is sort of a dweeber who pales in the face of femininity and purposely undercuts himself as a matter of habit. William Goldman, author of both novel and screenplay, delivers an effectively complex and human character in whats-his-face. It feels much less like a staged confluence of events and more like a man wrestling with his environment, truly the mark of any movie successfully attempting intrigue.
... Except for all the secret agent stuff. Those parts felt somewhat shoehorned-in and arbitrary, but I love any work that takes stabs at government conspiracy and give theoretical insight into messy rudderless clandestine organizations. That is a very popular note to strike, and whatever shortcomings I found in the blocky, uninspired action sequences and often stiff acting from supporting characters were infinitely made up for by the realistic feeling that one is Caught Up in something plausible and decidedly Bigger in Scope.
At this juncture I would like to alert the reader to spoilers: the book, as I'm informed by M, ends with whats-his-face shooting the dastardly Nazi and throwing the rest of the diamonds into the water just as the police arrive. The movie, however, sees the Nazi chasing the remainder of the diamonds down the metal staircase and falling on his own blade, Hoffman's character absconding with his gun and tossing it (presumably along with his baggage over his father's suicide) into the water along his daily jogging route.
If I might venture a guess, it seems to me that William Goldman might have been less satisfied with a character who, when given a Nazi and a gun, thinks to himself: "Kay." and shoots the motherfucker like some kind of desperado jerkwad. I felt like the story begged a more philosophically satisfying ending. What's-his-face wasn't a killer, even if his genealogy predicted it. Torture aside, he didn't want to see people die over this, he just wanted to get on with his life and right the existing wrongs. Call me a school child, but the message is stronger, and smarter. Why would this guy murder an essentially unarmed old man (granted, knife, but whatever!) and throw a billion dollars worth of diamonds away so he can take the wrap, ruin his reputation, life and career to go to jail? It ain't murder if you didn't shoot anyone, and it's not moral highground if you shortcut. A Nazi being captured by the police or falling on his own blade is like... The universe unfolding as it should. Shooting him down from ten yards away with a Colt .45 while he begs for his life is murder, Nazi torturing fuck or no.
So given the ending, I liked the movie I watched a lot more than the book I didn't read. It made more sense to me, in any case. I would recommend this movie to anyone I like and indeed, it had been far too long since I'd rewatched it.
Watch Marathon Man.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)