Ooh, and don't forget about the wolves.

From the Real-Life Dialogue Files
(Zach and Russ are trying to think of suitable movies to show Scarlett, who is 5 and princess-obsessed.)

ZACH: I think Stardust would be all right. It's PG-13, but I can't really think of anything I don't want her to see.
RUSS: There's all the dead guys.
ZACH: Yeah, but they're the best part. Do you have any suggestions?
RUSS: How about The Hobbit? It's animated, made by the same guys who did The Last Unicorn.
ZACH: Is there anything scary in it?
RUSS: Well, maybe the giant spiders. And the orcs. And the trolls...and the dragon...and the war...and Gollum. Um, come to think of it, scary things are pretty much constantly trying to kill them.
ZACH: Stardust has a princess in it.
RUSS: Yeah, she'll like that more.


My niece is now obsessed with the MPAA ratings system. She'll actually go through the family DVD collection trying to find G and PG rated movies. When you give a kid a method of dividing things, they latch onto it, I guess. I've been trying to tell her that ratings are only based on the opinion of a few people, and that the rating itself shouldn't be a meaningful test of a movie, but I think she's a bit too young to draw that sort of distinction. Maybe I should show her This Film is Not Yet Rated.

Kiss Me Deadly

I've been sending emails back and forth with my dad regarding the movie Kiss Me Deadly. Never mind its cruelty, possible misogyny, and ultra-sleazy characters. It's pretty much THE neo-noir, predating Chinatown by more than fifteen years - it was made in 19-freaking-55. How had I not seen this movie before? Stop reading this and watch it.

It's hard to gush about this one without spoiling it, but I'll try. For one thing, though there are one or two sympathetic characters, Mike Hammer is definitely not among them. He's a bastard and a sleaze. An interesting one, okay, but few film protagonists are this nasty. His big realization isn't that he needs to redeem himself; rather, it's that this case is indeed light-years beyond his paygrade.

The plot turns on the hunt for a box containing something so valuable that nearly everyone who falls into its path is marked for death. That makes it sound like a fairly standard detective-story plot, right? Think of the item as a blend of The Maltese Falcon itself...and Jaws. (Interestingly, the box's path seems to have influenced that of The Case from Pulp Fiction, and its moment of revelation is directly referenced (I'm not kidding) in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

And I love that there are multiple loose ends. Little effort is made to explain what the item is doing there or what most of the major players have to do with it - it's exactly as the secretary says, a Great Whatsit that seems to turn people into a reflection of itself (as before, a destroying power). As such, the story exchanges the normally intellectual detective-story path for a visceral and even illogical one. It takes the pulp narrative to a surreal extreme.

Terminator.

This blog is meant to be about theatre, but I think I get to write about Terminator here, because it's sci-fi, and I wrote a sci-fi play. My logic stands.

I've been watching The Sarah Connor Chronicles on DVD. I think I initially picked it up because there was a Battlestar Galactica-shaped hole in my free time. There are about a million things against it--won't list them all here--but I'm getting pretty attached to it.

I think I know why the first two movies (hard to defend the third, haven't seen the fourth) and the TV show have such a grim fascination for me. It's not the idea of being hunted by an unkillable robot, or even the roll-your-eyes time-loops-into-itself premise. It's that the standard Terminator trope is, in a way, all about the collateral damage, and that scares me a little. There's a message in there, somewhere.

Finger-wag morality play vignettes feature prominently: An unwitting person acts violently, or sometimes just rudely, not realizing that they're facing a machine (or Sarah Connor), and they usually get killed. Whether it's a "good" or a "bad" Terminator makes no difference here, as we, the audience, are made to feel safe, knowing that they had it coming, while we don't. But then, there are the innocents, people who are killed for nearly no reason, usually because they have a link to John Connor or are in the way of something a "bad" Terminator wants. Often, their intentions are good, and they become martyrs (John's foster parents); if they're just people in the wrong place at the wrong time, it simply sucks to be them.

Let's set aside the larger concept--that there's a shadow war going on to prevent/start/start the prevention of the robopocalypse--and say, "What's gonna happen is what's gonna happen, and the Connors are gonna fight Terminators until we catch up with Movie #3." The swath of destruction will continue, just the same, and there will always be people in the way. It's like a natural disaster. I mean, superhero comics work the same way--some poor folks are gonna get it for the plot to happen--but these comics tend to assume that a Good, Normal outcome is standard, and most people will live, the day saved or at least restored to normalcy. In the Terminator 'verse, the assumption is that all people have one of three futures:

1) Live normally until the Judgment Day Robopocalypse, and then get killed.
2) Live through the JDR, as part of the Resistance, and maybe go back in time eventually to help Sarah Connor or get killed trying.
3) Get killed before the JDR by either side.

Since the series pre-JDR spans about two decades, during which naked people and naked robots travel back in time to fight one another over control of history, or just to keep history from being altered (or whatever), we have to regard the series' timeframe as taking place during the war itself, not during the modern day, since the future has already happened, from the vantage point of nearly everyone who matters. The people who survive are often the ones who are either saved by combatants, ignored by combatants, or join the combatants. Death--or, at least, people getting killed--always seems to mean something in fiction, and I'm not letting Terminator off the hook just because about half the franchise is kind of stupid. Every action movie has its random victims, from people who suddenly get their car stopped by an FBI agent, to the people who won't listen to Pierce Brosnan. But Terminator has a whole palette of them, and no matter whose fault it is, or how all these pieces fit together, a point of view emerges. I'm having a hard time getting to the point, so I'll come out and say it:

This series advocates stocking up on weaponry and canned food, going "off the grid," and making as little human contact as possible. Even when the TV series seems to want to take John's side with the "Hey, Mom, let me live a little" stuff, we're given example after example of how paranoia, or at least, ruthless efficiency, is the only logical response to life in the Terminator world. Just as Hannibal Lecter became a justification of unfailingly polite people, Sarah Connor has become a justification of gun nuts. And don't gimme that stuff about how the series champions kindness and human emotion--in this series, the only way these will be rewarded is if you're Sarah or John Connor. Are you Sarah or John Connor? Or even a "good" Terminator? Think about it.

Uh, yeah, I haven't thought of a way to bring this back around to theatre yet. I just wanted to post my thoughts. In spite of any implied criticisms (like saying that about half the franchise is kind of stupid), I fully intend to keep watching Season 2 of the show, as it's way fun.

Edit, 3/1/10

I have now seen Terminator: Salvation. My interest in the franchise was, perhaps, misplaced.

MASSIVE SARCASM ALERT: I admire the artistic statement Fox is making by advertising Terminator: Salvation on every single Sarah Connor DVD, and likewise advertising the show on the movie disc. Why is this an artistic statement? Because the two effectively retcon each other. Their target audience must either believe in alternate timelines, or choose their format.

This brings me to the uncomfortable realization that I am their target audience.