Sweet Dreams
Holy Cthulhu, Lord of the underworld! It’s almost Halloween!
I nearly let it slip by completely, that’s how busy my schedule has become. Imagine if I let Halloween go by without acknowledgement, or indeed the mandatory celebration. What happens then? Is it like dividing the universe by zero? Does it collapse in on itself infinitely for the rest of time? I think so!
But not this year! I may be able to save the world yet.
Maybe it’s the fact that Melbourne has been flooding us with 30 degree weather for a while now, but I’m not really feelin’ the ‘Ween this year. Australia in general suffers from a Transylvanian tone deficit in October, so a lot of effort is required to tip the scales the other way. We need mist, we need thunder, we need darkness. We need a nightmare!
I’ve wanted to do this one for a while, and now seems like the perfect excuse- I mean…opportunity…to finally type it up. I’ve always had a cynical relationship with dream sequences. Nine times out of ten they’re hokey and overdone. Typically they constitute a narrative or aesthetic crutch. It’s one more way to squeeze in some tension or additional plot development. At its worst it serves as nothing more than a cheap script beat. “We haven’t had any excitement for a while…how about an irrelevant dream sequence?”. Cut, print, perfect!
But every once in a while I’ll see a dream sequence in a movie that really grabs me. It’s usually a horror dream sequence, and when it’s done well it can actually become a memorable movie moment. The thing that separates a good nightmare sequence from a bad one is how relatable it is. We all have those dream tropes that seem to be universal. Have you ever had that dream where all your teeth fall out? How about ones where you’re suddenly about to give a speech or take a test and you’ve forgotten everything? For some reason I have recurring nightmares where trees and boulders fall on top of me. Then there’s one where I’m mysteriously launched thousands of feet into the air and begin to descend at terminal velocity. How weird is that, right? I’m not falling off a cliff like you’d expect. I’m always being launched, like a rocket, into the atmosphere first. I can’t explain why, but it’s terrifying and visits me a couple of times a year.
Now, I can’t point to any dream sequences that tap into my particular paranoias, but there are some that manage to capture an eerily accurate tone. Dreams are strange. They’re not like real life at all. Although we believe that they’re real as we’re experience them, there’s always a mystical quality underlying all of it. People appear and disappear when we want them to and locations change on a dime. People are alive one minute, dead the next, and then alive again. As a child I often wished I could invent a machine that would record my dreams onto a VHS tape. What would that look like? My best guess is that it’d be a montage of strange images, colours, and sounds, like that “death tape” from The Ring.
Visualising the subconscious; hard to do, but evidently not impossible. What better place to start, in our quest to overturn our own rocks of repression, than with David Lynch.
Lynch is famous for putting what he calls ‘dream logic’ up on the big screen. No one really blends fantasy and reality quite as effectively as he does, and somehow he’s able to do it without resorting to visual effects.
The following is the opening scene of Mulholland Drive. It’s an odd moment that appears to have no connection to the rest of the film, but it’s certainly tonally and thematically relevant. For those who haven’t seen it, I’m not going to spoil what happens by speaking in detail. All I’ll say is that it’s not entirely clear whether it is a dream or not, but that’s also the point. It could possibly be an Inception-like dream within a dream, or it could simply be real life imitating a nightmare.
The thing that really adds a dreamlike quality to this sequence is the etherial nature of the camera. It floats gently in the air, as if on a cloud, merely hovering around its subjects. Then, we’re robbed of all sound, almost like someone’s sticking their fingers in our ears. Dream or not, it’s a terrifyingly tense buildup.
The ultra-small but surprisingly good thriller Take Shelter features a very well structured nightmare sequence. Like the film itself, it does a lot with very little. Now, I have to admit that this one works best when seen within the context of the film. That’s because of the lack of transition, either in or out. We just suddenly find ourselves within Curtis’ fortuitous subconscious, staring directly at his dismal envisioning of where his marriage is headed.
Nothing is said, and yet it somehow it captures that exact essence that can make a scary dream so scary. Everything is just a little…off.
Ah, Hellraiser. Why do I love thee so? You’re my Brokeback Horror…”I wish I could quit you”. Somehow so much of what I do ends up coming back to Hellraiser, and that’s because it’s a masterpiece.
Even those who find the silliness of Hellraiser‘s reality to be overproduced and hokey have to admit that its streamlined representation of a terrifying dream is something to admire. This one really creeps me out. As with Take Shelter, there is a foreshadowing element here that provides a deeper meaning when seen in full context. Still, you have to admit that this has to be just about the worst kind of dream you could ever have.
That’s her father, by the way, popping up at the end there. I hope somebody invents a ‘therapist on demand’ service that ships psychological relief straight to your front door, because Kirsty’s gonna need it. The feathers, the sounds of flapping bird’s wings, the slow motion, and of course that chilling echoed infant’s cry. Each one of these elements has been picked because of their relevance to Kirsty. She’s the innocent child in the story who needs to fly away from her home of horror.
The Conversation isn’t really talked about for its dream sequence, but I think it’s actually one of the most effective parts of the film.
The whole movie centres around the “will he won’t he” dilemma. Should Harry Caul inform the victim of his espionage that he suspects she will be murdered? Well, if he can’t do it in real life, maybe he can do it in a dream?
The problem is, of course, that dreams play themselves out exactly like reality. Why would they be any different? If you have a challenging issue in your life, your dream is only going to play it back to you reinforced. Harry is not only separated from the woman physically and visually, he also cannot seem to find the right confession. Only when the woman disappears can he finally utter the words “He’ll kill you if he gets the chance”.
I love the use of smoke and cross fades in this one. It really gives it a mysterious quality in conjunction with the throbbing sound design. The fog that engrosses everything helps to push it all into that recognisably dream like state. I had a strong connection to this one upon first seeing it. Something about Harry’s futile attempts to reach out across the mist reminded me of several similar dreams that I’ve had. His desire continually exceeds his grasp, and that’s a theme that seems to be abundant in dream narrative.
Then we reach the ultimate in nightmare realisation. For me, this is the most accurate portrayal of a bad dream that I’ve ever come across.
For those of you who haven’t seen The Exorcist, shame on you! In fact, if you haven’t seen it in a while, why not watch it again now this Halloween? I’ll admit that it’s not one of the most scary films I’ve seen in my life, but the story and the direction is just too good to overlook. It’s a classic, plain and simple.
And yet, no one ever talks about Father Karras’ nightmare. They reminisce about a little girl’s head spinning around and her explosive green vomit, but nothing about this extraordinary sequence right here. This is what a dream feels like, and it’s all down to inspired editing. Pay attention to how William Friedkin, the director, overlays the sound of Karras shifting in his bed and half-snoring. I don’t know why, but I get this sense of deja-vu every time I see it. I just know that that’s exactly what my dreams feel like, even though I couldn’t possibly be hearing myself murmur. It’s so oddly well observed.
So those are the nightmare sequences that I personally have the strongest connections to. To me, they feel like genuine attempts at immersing the audience into a believable dream world. It’s rather terrifying…
…but not really that fun! I want to have some fun on Halloween!!!
Therefore I’m going to end this posting by showing you the most ridiculous dream sequence of all time. It’s the most useless, pointless, absurd, unbelievable, and confusing film nightmare that I’ve ever seen. Some of you know it, but if you’re lucky then this will be your first time seeing it. It is of course…
An American Werewolf in London is a great film and, again, it’s one that you should consider checking out this Halloween. It’s not all that scary, but it does have its creepy moments and certainly features the greatest werewolf transformation sequence there’s ever been. Still, people have to be reminded that it’s a horror comedy. It plays with the typical structure of a werewolf movie and uses its horror elements as fodder for absurd humour. What else do you call a lycanthrope-infected protagonist who’s constantly being annoyed by the walking zombie ghost of his dead best friend?
Bizarrely, right in the middle of this typical storyline, we have a dream sequence that makes no sense at all. You have to remember that this is a movie about an American tourist in England being bitten by a werewolf and suffering the consequences…so can you please tell me what on God’s green earth this is all about?
Like I said, it’s a comedy…but what the hell? Why mutant Nazi werewolf people? Why are they shooting up his family? Why are they burning his house down? Why do they hate Kermit the Frog so much? Why? Why? Why? And then just when you think it’s over, it throws one more curveball at you.
I may not understand it…but I certainly love the tenacity. It’s the polar opposite of all these other dream sequence. It knows how absurd and un-relatable it is, and simply doesn’t care.
Have yourself a Happy Halloween everybody! Sweet dreams…now and forever!
Yellow Snow
Like a lobbyist to a constitution, I’d like to make an amendment. Back in March I posted my “Top 15 Films You Probably Didn’t See Last Year (and Should Spend All of This Year Catching Up With)” for 2014.
It’s a list I was happy with until about a week after the event. That’s because I saw the Swedish film Force Majeure and immediately realised my grave error…just like this cat did:
Haha! He’s stuck in a sandal! That one always cracks me up. Look at his stupid face. “Help me!”, Dawwwwww!
Anyway, I should have put Force Majeure up at number 6, that’s how good it is! Here’s the plot:
“A family on a ski holiday in the French Alps find themselves staring down an avalanche during lunch one day; in the aftermath, their dynamic has been shaken to its core, with a question mark hanging over their patriarch in particular.”
-IMDB
IMDB, why are you always so vague? Ok, so basically it’s about a family that incorrectly thinks, for about 27 seconds, that their life is about to be snuffed out by a torrent of snow. But that’s just the inciting incident. Luckily for them everything’s fine, yet in those 27 seconds everyone’s true character is revealed. The kids yell for their parents, the mother protects her children, and the father…runs away!
The rest of movie is about the elephant in the room; the fact that the father didn’t protect his family at the most crucial of moments. Everyone tries to pretend that things are fine, but clearly they’re not…and the real avalanche is a-comin’ down the track.
Oh yes! It’s one of those movies. Prepare for 2 hours of excruciatingly awkward silences. Take a shot of the good stuff every time eye contact is properly maintained and you can bank on being the designated driver tonight.
Maybe this isn’t your particular poison, but I love these movies. My favourite comedy of all time is The Office (the real one) for exactly this reason. I know people who can’t stand awkward silences, but I soak em’ up like I’m in a warm bubble bath. Maybe I’m just sadistic, or masochistic, or both.
Eventually, as rumours are whispered about, this failure of heroics begins to infect other men with the same self-doubting question; “if it was me, would I do the same thing?”. Wives begin questioning their husbands, and husbands protest at the audacity. Eventually, an important debate emerges, a debate about…
How’s my font size? Is it big? Is it bulging? Yeah, you bet it is!
There are other films that address this issue, but none do it quite like Force Majeure. It’s a piece that actually discusses the virtues of, and need for, a particular strain of gender-specific self esteem; namely male pride. Oddly enough, in a post-feminist era, an intelligent defence of masculinity has become unusual. Who’d have thunk?
Now, courage isn’t something that men have the monopoly on, obviously, but that exuberant, “chest-beating”, Tarzanian assertiveness kinda’ is. Dominance, assumed authority, hyper sexuality, violence, and objectification are all pitfalls of testosterone, there’s no question about it. Still, that doesn’t warrant the total dismissiveness of male pride that appears to be commonplace these days. It’s laughed at and breezed over with groin-flicking remarks like “compensating for something?”.
What happens in Force Majeure is that the central father figure is robbed of his male pride and needs to regain it. That’s not a non-issue, ladies…it’s really not. There’s a reason why male pride exists, and it’s not a construct. Women have to understand that the very thing they giggle about can, for many men, be as important to a male’s sense of self-worth as a females own child-nurturing instinct is to hers. Your gender is a massive chunk of your identity, and with it comes an innate gender-role, so don’t dismiss the necessity for a man to keep core aspects of his ego intact.
What was Breaking Bad if not a bittersweet cautionary exploration of male pride? As Gustavo Fring said to Walter White – “a man provides for his family”. He also protects them whenever possible, and if you remove a man’s confidence in himself to do it…well, then he just might crumble.
Of course, I don’t have any children of my own, but I am a man. No doubt about that. I have my own pride, strength, courage, and all-round masculinity…
Haha! That cat is still stuck in the sandal! Adorable! Awww, so cute! What was I saying? Something about my masculinity…i forgot…
Force Majeure isn’t really a family drama, it’s a black comedy. As much as it makes the case for male pride, it also takes shearing jabs at it. In fact, no archetype is safe from ridicule. The actors all exhibit that beautiful Scandinavian mixture of stoic stiffness, naturalism, and humble self-deprecation that we’re known for. As the running-time ticks away, the pressure builds towards an explosive confrontation that has to happen. It’s amazing just how fun it can be watching a family spiral into potential disintegration. Don’t feel bad, enjoy it!
It’s a film that makes me proud, considering how many terrible Swedish and Norwegian films there are out there. These are the kinds of films we should be making. I’ve heard rumours of an American remake in the works. Who knows, maybe they’ll have their own impressive take on the material. For now, though, I urge you to see the original so you can add it to your already extensive list of “Northern-European family crisis skiing comedies.”
I believe that Force Majeure is easily available on Netflix, so please check it out. In the meantime, here’s the trailer:
Daddy Issues
So I went to see Ant-Man, and I liked it. I’m not really going to review it because it already has a sizeable budget and its own mega-marketing campaign that is surely swarming you this very moment. I just want to make a small point.
Firstly, the film is very cute. If you like the oddball Marvel movies that take themselves even less seriously then the rest of them do, then Ant-Man is a film for you. It reminded me, more than anything, of Thor. There’s just the right amount of self deprecating humour and originality to give it its own spotlight without separating it completely from the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Beyond that, there was a moment toward the end of the film that really stood out to me. (The following could be considered a spoiler, so be warned.)
Paul Rudd plays Scott Lang. Scott has a troubled past as a skilled thief, but has recently been released from prison and is determined not to return to his old antics.
He also has a daughter, Cassie, who loves him unconditionally. However, his wife has remarried and he now has to compete with the new stepfather. Someone with whom he pales in comparison. Sound familiar?
Anyone who has ever seen a family comedy from the 90’s will know this territory quite well. Let me throw out a few of the “guy who needs to earn his family back” stories that come to mind.
While I did enjoy these movies, there was something that bugged me about them.
(Alright, they don’t all land. Anyways…)
The main character was always a loser father or bad husband of some kind. Either he was a cutthroat capitalist who dodged his family in favour of his career, or a naive loveable screwup who was unable to provide for them financially. Now, that’s fair enough because it’s all part of the hero’s journey. The main character needs to be flawed so that they can learn something throughout the film and become a better person by the end of it.
The absurd component was the inclusion of an intrusive “new dad”. This was the ex-wife’s new boyfriend or husband who seemed to want to bond with the children in a way that we’re supposed to hate. The problem was that I never really did. For the sake of the film, sure, he was the antagonist. I could see that their love for someone else’s kids was never going to be as special as their actual parent’s was. Still, none of these pseudo-fathers were cruel people. They didn’t have bad intention. They were genuinely in love with the mother and wanted to provide the best for their baggage…I mean children!
See, that’s why I’m in awe of these shiny goofy daddy stand-ins. If I ever had kids, I’d be the original father who messes everything up. I might love my children, but provide for them? I can hardly cover my rent from month to month. I lent all my money to my last roommate, who then ran away with it, and once pointlessly bought a $600 ring for a girl who took it and broke up with me the following week! Screw up? That’s about all I do.
What was I talking about? Oh, yeah!
When you really stop to think about it, here’s the conceit:
A father fails his children and/or wife at every turn, continues to screw up as the film unfolds, then has an epiphany and promises to change his ways. The family accepts him back because he strung the right words together and all is forgiven. Meanwhile, the guy who stepped in and provided for everyone, while the other douchebag was having his pilgrimage of self reflection, gets the boot for being a bit too square. What a great life lesson!
Listen, I love Mrs. Doubtfire, but I can’t help thinking of that moment when Pierce Brosnan is asked about the children’s “real father”. He says “the guy’s a loser”. You know what…he’s right! It’s even worse than that. Daniel Hillard quits his job over a pointless dispute, throws an obnoxious house party that he now can’t afford, and then dresses up as a nanny so he can invade his ex-wife’s home because shared custody isn’t enough. The guy shouldn’t be in marriage court, he should be in jail! Take a hint, son! Life can only be enjoyed when it’s lived responsibly. If you want to stay a part of the family, how about you show them that you’re worth the effort.
And this is where I fell in love with Ant-Man! It’s completely different! At the end of the movie there’s a moment that should make everyone’s antennae prick up. Scott Lang turns to the “stepfather”, played by Bobby Cannavale, and says 8 criminally under-fused words:
“Thank you…for everything you do for Cassie.”
I can’t tell you how happy I was to be watching a movie that finally thanked the responsible father figure. Better late than never, Hollywood! Sure, they may have the personality of a Fisher Price man and the goofy humour of a geriatric, but this is an important acknowledgement. I’m not just making a mountain out of an anthill! It’s a family film standard that needs to shrink! I hope to see a colony of stories like this in the future.
In fact, the ending bumps up my score a little. I really hope you go and see Ant-Man for this moment alone, but the rest of it is also rather good fun too.
– Rant Over!
Unstoppable Beast
So here it goes: A review 14 years in the making.
Three weeks ago I stood at the box office of my local cinema chain with a “1-free admission” ticket voucher in my hand. It was a Christmas present given to me by a Secret Santa at work and I’d held on to it until now so that, no matter what financial situation I found myself in, on June of 2015 I would have a guaranteed ticket to see Jurassic World on the big screen.
Do you see how seriously I take this shit?
So there I was, standing in line behind a group of teenage oafs who were poking and yelling “pussy” at each other, when a moment of divine intervention took place. First the yobbos asked for four tickets to “Mad Max: Fury Road” and I was relieved. Then the woman at the candy bar asked if they wished to see it in “Gold Class”. They declined, but the words danced on my eardrums and wouldn’t go away. “Gold Class?” I said out loud, and then suddenly realised that I was saying it to her. What happened? I didn’t even register that I was in the middle of ordering a ticket. The whole thing was an out-of-body experience. She charged me some enormous amount of money, but all I could think about was how little control I now had over my destiny. She gave me change for a $50 bill, but I don’t know who’s it was because I couldn’t remember handing it to her.
Now, bewildered, I’m in the Gold Class lounge and a waitress comes over to take my order. Order? Yes, order! In Gold Class they take your gourmet food order and bring it to you during the movie. I ordered a burger and a Lemon, Lime and Bitters…I think (that’s what I received later on, so it’s all I can deduce). I tried to cover up my “Why couldn’t I be rich instead of good looking?” T-shirt, so people wouldn’t think I was out of place. I’d never felt this much like Jack Dawson in the First Class of the Titanic. Back came the waitress with a smile; “You may go in now, Sir”.
To be honest, it does make sense. This is the movie I’ve been anticipating “for like forever like totally”! It’s the biggie, so why not make it a fully enriching experience?
It turns out that Gold Class is set up for couples, so the seats are placed two-by-two. They sat me down next to a pretty girl who was beaming with excitement about the movie. She was alone in a “couples” movie theatre, so how could she possibly have a boyfriend? I was alone, and I know I don’t have anyone significant in my life. Could this be the beginning of a Rom-Com romance? Maybe after the movie I’ll ask for her name and enquire about why she likes Jurassic Park. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be an ultra-fan and we’ll walk along the shore exchanging stories about how much it means to us. My imagination is getting ahead of me, you say? Sure, but that’s what they said about putting a man on the moon and this could only be slightly less achievable, right?
The lights began to dim and the waitress arrived with my food. Sorry, not my food, it’s our food. It turns out that my future bride-to-be ordered a Lemon, Lime and Bitters as well. It was with her chicken burger, so not a beef burger like mine. Different, perhaps, but also complimentary. You might even say that “she completes me”. This could be a great moment for me, and a life changing day, but then…
The Gold Class, the burgers, the drinks, the beautiful woman beside me; none of it mattered after ten minutes of Jurassic World. There’s no way it could ever work out between us now, honey, because I will forever associate you with this film; a cold, cheap, rotten experience.
Where to start?
How about starting where it starts; with a terrible opening shot. Let’s play a game of “spot-the-difference”.
What’s different about these two images?
Answer: Everything!
The creature on the left appears as a tangible, fragile, newly moulded animal. The one on the right is false, slimy, and monstrous. That’s not what Jurassic Park is, or ever was, about. The moment this image faded up on the screen I knew that something was very wrong.
Unfortunately, I was expecting a film of quality with some effort and thought put behind it, like the original was. What I should have foreseen was a low-cost, quickly assembled, fashionable money-maker.
Jurassic World is a “Trendysaurus”. Instead of bringing us back to the glorious film franchise of the past, it shoehorns its most familiar elements into a new one and shamelessly capitalises off of them. It’s not just bad, it’s worse; corrupt!
Sorry, I’m ranting without specifics. I have to go through this bit-by-bit.
Is Jurassic World a bad film? No, not totally. As a random piece of Saturday-afternoon escapism, it’s just barely decent. Big monsters chasing screaming people, if that’s what you want then that’s what you’ll get. What you won’t get is any emotional attachment to those people.
Chris Pratt plays Owen Grady, a Velociraptor trainer who doesn’t want to do anything with his Velociraptors. Seriously, he trains raptors for apparently no purpose other than how cool it looks. When the military comes to him and demands that he put them to use, he winces and cries…but what the fuck was he training them to be…pets? Never explained! Ugh!
Bryce Dallas Howard plays Claire Dearing, Jurassic World‘s operations manager. She has the impossible job of running a resurrected park that, two decades ago, failed disastrously and cost the lives of four people (not to mention the second attempt in the heart of San Diego that unleashed a T-Rex into the city). If I was her I’d take another job, but she instead doubles down and decides to mutate the dinosaurs into “more dangerous creatures”, thereby making another Dino-breakout a near certainty. How inspired!
This time we have two new children, both boys. I never got a handle on these kids. The little one cries a lot because his parents are getting divorced. The older one has a girlfriend who loves him, but can’t seem to stop staring at girls. I think he’s some kind of pervert, but of course the film never properly addressed this. We’re supposed to sense a broken relationship between them that heals throughout the film, but after 30 minutes of mutual disdain I just wanted to see them both inside the jaws of a large predator.
They were both really bland actors, too. Nothing interesting or distinct about either one. What a shame.
Jurassic Park had lovely characters that were each memorable in their own way. Sure, Lex sometimes became a bit unbearable with her screaming and crying, but she saved the other characters on more than one occasion with quick wit and mad computer skills.
Tim was a bit of a punching bag, and spent most of his time suffering bumps, bruises, and electric shocks. However, he did have a rather funny discord with Alan Grant and Lex. Both found themselves annoyed by his nagging antics, but (for better or worse) he was portrayed as a believable 8-year-old boy and you never hated him.
Alan Grant is, to all intents and purposes, the main character of an admittedly ensemble-esque film. The plot affects everyone but the story belongs to him. He is a man who struggles to tackle the responsibilities of parenthood. He sees no reward in fathering a child, much less raising one, and it is only by witnessing Lex and Tim in danger that he discovers the true depths of his paternal instincts. By the end of the movie he is not only protecting the children, but caring for them as well.
Ellie Sattler may just be the most underrated feminist character in all of genre cinema. To me she’s even more fascinating than Ellen Ripley, and I’ll tell you why. As the Alien series went on, Ripley was depicted as increasingly masculine. While she protected her loved ones and eviscerated the enemies who tried to destroy her, as any good heroine should, the filmmakers decided that the best way to represent this visually was to crank her testosterone level into overdrive. She cut her hair and rolled up her sleeves as a visual cue of empowerment and courage. That’s the low hanging fruit, if you ask me. The real trick is to give your female characters agency and resilience while still maintaining their femininity. We’ve been sold on the idea that strength of character necessitates a butch physique, and it’s the often unrecognised subtle misogyny that still persists in modern action-adventure literature. Ellie Sattler, however, was different. She never picked up a gun or even had to punch anybody, but instead held her own in heavy intellectual debates and willingly confronted danger when it was necessary. Did she scream and cry and times? Sure, like a friggin’ damsel tied to a train track, but remember that courage is not the absence of fear but rather action in spite of it. She was never sexualised or shamed, but could still tease and flirt with the men around her when she felt like it.
I certainly cannot say the same for Claire. She spends the whole of Jurassic World running around in high heels and then, when shit really hits the fan, strips down to a tank top. Upon reflection, the entire downfall of the park is because of her dumb behaviour, so you never gain any sympathy for her either.
Chris Pratt’s Owen feels like he’s been transplanted from a 1930’s serial movie. I struggled to find a single flaw in his genetic code. He’s strong, smart, conscientious, and somehow always correct about everything. Ian Malcolm may have been proven “right all the time”, but at least he was an arrogant asshole. It’s so boring to see a character with no pitfalls, and to make matters worse…he isn’t even any fun to be around. Pratt is given almost no funny lines or enjoyable moments. He just gives us his “blue steel” look every time something serious happens.
I could go on for hours about this, and I haven’t even brought up the lack of interesting supporting characters like John Hammond, Ian Malcolm, and Robert Muldoon.
I’m happy with the idea of finally realising Hammond’s original vision of a fully functional dinosaur theme park. It’s about time that we saw it come to life instead of just wallowing amongst the ruins from the first film. It also fulfilled my first request:
We’re back home on Isla Nublar for the first time in over 20 years and it feels great! The park is gloriously detailed, lives up to all my expectations, and even included a great many homages to the original. There’s a statue of Hammond, a fossil digging area, night vision goggles, jeeps, Dr. Henry Wu returns and Mr. DNA even showed up!
We were only given a fleeting glimpse at him, but he was there.
Yet, something is a little off. The whole park feels like it was designed by Apple. It’s a lot more futuristic than the original, which seemed more like an entrenched safari experience. This is clearly the new direction the filmmakers wanted to go in, bringing the entire concept into the 21st century.
So why did the original feel more authentic to me? It was simpler in construction and instead made use of the space that the island provided. The whole park could be operated by a tiny control room, and only two operators (though this was also a major factor in the park’s demise). The dinosaur paddocks were few, but gigantic. Constantly, the dinosaurs were a no-show. This not only gave it the relatable experience of touring a zoo, but also provided a slow and steady build up to the Tyrannosaur breakout.
Within 30 seconds of being in Jurassic World, we’re surrounded by dinosaurs. At times, the level of co-existence tips over into absurdity.
Am I really expected to believe that this falls within the constraints of Health and Safety? Look at this! What happens if someone paddles too close and tries to pat one of the Stegosaurs? Give me a single modern zoo that will let you riverboat with the Hippos!
While we’re on the subject, what the hell was this?
Is that seriously a crowd of children waiting to watch a T-Rex eat a living goat? How on earth is that not a massive controversy waiting to happen? Kids aren’t allowed into R-rated movies, but public mammalian execution is ok? “You must be THIS tall to watch the limbs come off”?.
Keep in mind that the “goat luring” in the original was merely a temporary attempt to present the endorsers with a definitive glimpse at the park’s most notorious creation. It was never meant to be implemented in the final design.
It’s not a major complaint, but this park didn’t feel like the original pitch. It’s been renamed Jurassic World, so i suppose that gives it a bit of room for fantastical deviation. Fair is fair, I just wish it had restrained itself a little.
The story revolves around the creation of the Indominus Rex, a genetically engineered hybrid. I wasn’t entirely sure what to think when I heard about this. On the one hand it is in keeping with Jurassic Park’s theme about “the arrogance of man”, but on the other hand it smacks of B-Movie horror.
Pretty soon, though, it became clear that regardless of the validity of the concept…the execution was going to derail the entire thing.
Colin Trevorrow has proved himself to be a good director with his charming first feature Safety Not Guaranteed. It’s a great little indy film that plays with the audiences belief and trust in different characters. Funny, believable, and emotionally captivating, Trevorrow’s merging of mumble core and science fiction ridiculousness made for a critically acclaimed debut…
…but he ain’t no Spielberg!
When Steven Spielberg made Jurassic Park, he already had Duel, Jaws, and all three Indiana Jones films on his CV. The man had action adventure and horror in his bloodstream.
At no point in Jurassic World did I feel any tension. There was no desire to hide anything from the audience. The Indominus Rex was plainly displayed in full sunlight mere minutes into the film. Boring!
Here’s a riddle for you: What’s the most influential moment in Jurassic Park? Here’s the answer:
It’s been spoofed a thousand times for a good reason; it works! It’s called foreshadowing, and is a way to intimidate the audience prior to the full reveal. The lack of this in Jurassic World tells you everything you need to know.
Spielberg wasn’t just the man who directed Jurassic Park, he was Jurassic Park. Without him the whole idea falls apart and becomes just another boring monster movie. Trevorrow has given us a modern dinosaur blockbuster, and that’s not a compliment.
Dinosaurs are chasing people in a Jurassic Park movie and I don’t even care about it! If you had told me that when I was eight years old, I would have branded you a liar. What a depressing thought.
More people are killed in Jurassic World than in Jurassic Park, and yet it feels like a less violent movie. There are only 5 human deaths in the original, but you can recall each one. Remember that poor schmuck whose job it was to open the Raptor enclosure? How about that darkly funny moment when the T-Rex smiles at a terrified Donald Genaro before lifting him off his toilet seat and shaking him to pieces? Will you ever be able to forget Muldoon thinking he got the upper hand on the Raptors, only to find himself face to face with his “clever girl”. The comedic irony and anticipation that went into these sequences meant that you really felt the “crunch” of that person finally being eaten.
The victims in Jurassic World are just chickenfeed.
I sat through the whole movie waiting for a single decent stunt. Hopefully someone was going to dangle over a cliff or climb up a tree before the credits rolled.
….nnnnnnope!
Instead we got a fiery helicopter crash and a massive Pterosaur attack. Apparently the scene is an homage to Hitchcock’s The Birds. Well, I do love The Birds. The problem is that it has no place in a Jurassic Park film.
It feels like something out of Dawn of the Dead or Battleship Potemkin. Crowd massacre sequences are hardly ever tense, they’re usually silly and a little fun. Because of that, they work beautifully for Piranha 3D…but again, not for Jurassic Park! What Jurassic World needed was a couple of nail biting sequences without dinosaurs filling the frame.
That being said, I was impressed by the slight nod toward Disney’s 1940’s musical cartoon Fantasia.
What about music, though? Was John Williams’ score still there? Yes, it was. In fact, my mother even said she enjoyed the film “because it still had the same music”, which goes to show you how powerful and iconic the original themes were.
I’m not that easily impressed. The majority of the score was completely altered into a generic action movie reinvention. The most recognisable musical moments were just injected, in their entirety, from the original trilogy. More importantly, Williams’ more subtle jungle themes were completely lost. People seem to forget that the original Jurassic Park was enriched with tribal drums and flutes. The Jurassic World score managed to keep the grand orchestral cues intact, but lost all the tropical underpinnings.
It’s a tough decision, but I’m ultimately disappointed with Michiael Giacchino’s unfulfilling soundtrack.
Enough about how it sounds, though, what about how shitty it looks?
I work with CGI, and even I’m starting to hate it now. Every creative problem is solved by throwing Visual Effects at it these days. Nothing looks real anymore, and Jurassic World stands as another example of why audiences need to be reminded that less is more.
Let’s play another game. One of these two original Raptors is CGI, and the other is an animatronic puppet. Can you tell which one was made in a computer?
Maybe you can or maybe you can’t (it’s the one on the left, by the way), but there isn’t really a glaring difference, is there?
Perhaps the blending of CGI and animatronics wasn’t entirely seamless, but it worked surprisingly well. It was more impressive, back in the 90’s, to see a gigantic Rex punching her way through the roof of a car because so much of it was actually real.
I grew increasingly annoyed while watching Jurassic World, because everything on the screen just looked like a bunch of ones and zeros. There’s no reason why Colin Trevorrow couldn’t have hired a production team to resurrect the animatronic T-Rex. He either didn’t want to or was advised not to. Regardless, it’s a wasted opportunity. Every one of the original fans would have thanked him for it and I’m sure younger audiences would been happy as Larry to see something different from what they typically get in an Avengers movie.
It’s not just about the over-saturation of CGI, though. The CGI itself isn’t even that impressive.
The amount of care that went into creating the world’s first photorealistic computer animation, back in 1992, was staggering. A handful of young entrepreneurs, experimenting with new technology, managed to convince Spielberg that CGI dinosaurs were within the scope of the picture. He signed off on the approach, but demanded that they deliver an impeccable product and wouldn’t take “new” for an answer.
All these years later and we end up with animated dinosaurs that not only don’t look better than the original…they actually look a little worse.
And the reason is laziness. CGI is like McDonalds food these days, cheap and quick. Hordes of computer slaves are locked into a room and pressured into spitting out a large bouncy finished product that’ll keep the money flowing. The result is a cartoony Tyrannosaurus Rex which completely undermines the intended impact of the final scene.
Speaking of the final scene…
In the last moment of the film, a Tyrannosaurus Rex is released from captivity and used to fight the Indominus. The whole thing turns into a dinosaur pile-on as every large carnivore joins in and finally defeats the villain.
Ok, now I’m pissed! Why on earth is this the 3rd act of the film? The first Jurassic Park ended in a tiny battle between the Rex and the Raptors, but it was more of a short capper to a final scene rather than the scene itself. Jurassic Park is not Pacific Rim! If you want to make a movie about monsters fighting then make it on your own time. Keep your ugly Michael Bay hands off my favourite franchise! Not everything has to be a Transformers movie! They’re dinosaurs, for Christ’s sake, not Godzilla and Mothra!
Jurassic Park is about the de-extinction of majestic animals from a lost time. It’s about the exploration of that moment when you get to see what you’ve studied on paper your entire life standing before you in the flesh. Beyond that it’s concerned with the ultimate repercussions of it.
Jurassic World made no mistake by switching the focus to hybridisation. The fault lies in not exploring that idea properly. I want to see some discussion and development of it. How and why did this process occur? What are some of the details? What kind of parallels can be drawn to real life? None of these questions are even considered. The entire concept just exists as an excuse for more jagged chomping teeth.
In fact, if the movie has a theme at all, then it seems to be “the original is way better”. Ergo, it becomes a metaphor for its own existence. Why on earth bother making a derivative of a product that you yourself admit cannot be improved upon? It’s like making a new Playstation console and naming it the “Not Quite Playstation”.
I recently heard rumours that the script was written in two weeks. I don’t know if it’s true, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Spielberg seems to have let Trevorrow do his own thing, and that’s fair enough. I’ll tell you this much, though; I’m keeping my Jurassic Park Trilogy BluRay set as it is! There’s no way that Jurassic World is sneaking in there and turning it into a “ménage à quatre”. This thing lives or dies on its own.
A friend of mine text messaged me, after seeing the film, with a single line: “it has no heart”. Never was a truer word spoken. Jurassic World truly has no heart. It is a soulless entity. I don’t even feel like Trevorrow cared after a while. He’s already spoken about his refusal to direct the next one, so he must have finished this one with a gun pointed to his head.
The moment Bryce Dallas Howard showed up and spoke the words “Welcome to Jurassic World“ with that same clinical tone that a doctor uses when they diagnose your cancer…I knew. I knew that somewhere in time Jurassic Park‘s bones had withered away and been replaced by cold hard rock. De-extinction, is it possible? Evidently not.
Of course, this is just my opinion. Apparently I’m in the minority. Jurassic World has grossed well over a billion dollars worldwide and has already smashed the record for the biggest opening weekend ever. Telling people that it “has no heart” is proving to be futile.
I don’t believe for a second that it’ll be remembered fondly by anyone twenty years down the track, like the original has been, but a lot of people have paid through the nose to see it (including myself). I’m glad that the franchise still has a lot of juice, even in this age of superhero movies. I just wish it still had its character.
– Rant Over!
Cinema Rant 