Code 46 (2004, UK, Michael Winterbottom) Big Brother’s Brave New World
Complex and cold, intelligent and aloof, fascinating and off-putting: Code 46 is one of the year’s most interesting films, with images and ideas that will stick with you for days, even if the movie lacks the sort of emotional resonance we might hope for in our masterpieces. Code 46 offers us such a grim glimpse of the future that any sentient audience member will exit shouting: Go Back!
Director Michael Winterbottom, whose 24 Hour Party People was such a blast, steps lightly in the footsteps of great dystopians like Orwell and Huxley, and gives us his vision of the future, which he shows us to be insulated, pasteurized and rigidly-controlled. Global economy creates islands of "haves" who live in artificial, grey-lit plenty, while those on the outside lead a colour-saturated but much more materially-meagre existence. Not unlike the current state of things. While various languages have been fluidly absorbed into the lingua franca of daily life, restrictions on travel and access between people and places is strictly enforced, with a monolithic enforcement agency ensuring people do not slip between the cracks. The great paranoia of those within the safe confines on the inside appears to be the infection of the body politic by those on the outside. Further, due to the proliferation of in vitro fertilization, law—those of the film’s title--have been enacted to prevent people with similar genetic codes from breeding, and punishing with expulsion from said body politic those who knowingly disobey them.
In a move that computer geeks and fans of their annual flu shot will appreciate, people in this world can be infected with viruses in order to strengthen areas of weakness. Want to sing with perfect pitch? Speak Mandarin? Read people’s thoughts? This place has the virus for you. As the movie opens, an inspector searches for a document-forger who is illegally greasing the wheels of travel for her fellow citizens, William (Tim Robbins) has been injected with an empathy virus, which allows him to intuitively clue into people’s most personal information. This, needless to say, makes him a valuable commodity for his employers, The Sphinx Organization, a ubiquitous mega-corp that appears to control most of this world’s industry. However, while William is able to quickly identify Maria (Samantha Morton, who is predictably marvellous) as the guilty party, he finds himself drawn to her (is the empathy virus to blame?) and in an act of complicity that appears to pose a threat to his entire way of life (which includes a wife and son), lies to protect her. When his employers discover William has fingered the wrong person, he is forced to return to the scene of the crime and get it right. This is, as the saying goes, when the games really begin, as William discovers that Maria has disappeared, having transgressed against Code 46, and thus been forced to have an abortion as well as the requisite memory-wipe that accompanies it, leaving her unable to remember her previous relationship with him.
While the memory-wiping aspect of the story may lead you to expect Code 46 to be the cinematic cousin to Gondry and Kauffman’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, those similarities are only surface deep. Rather than an absurdist commentary on the vagaries of memory and the inevitability of pain as the cost of risking love, Code 46’s angst-ridden tone and overall sense of alienation, not to mention its new-wave sense of audio-visual style, is much more reminiscent of Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation. The karaoke scene in the Asian bar doesn’t hurt the comparisons any either, as The Clash’s Mick Jones has an amusing cameo in a singing Should I Stay or Should I Go? This classic bit of stunt casting actually works, and not just cuz Jones is a quirky-looking dude in an exotic locale, but also cuz the song’s lyrics mirror the us vs. them-ness conflicts inherent in the plot. And so it appears that like Ms. Coppola, Winterbottom’s talents at matching swirling imagery and hypnotic sounds suggest that he’s also fallen under the spell of Hong Kong’s Wong Kar-Wai, particularly his 1990s efforts like Chunking Express and Fallen Angels, yet more evidence that Wong remains a seminal force for art house directors.
Code 46 is a cool film, in every sense of the word. It’s message is timely and politically hip, but it is also at times emotionally distancing, particularly given the sometimes-stilted performance of Tim Robbins. Despite this, the film has a clear and profound application to our contemporary world, divided so cleanly between us that has and them that hasn’t. In the end, Code 46 is about the forces that attempt to keep people apart, despite the innate desires that draw us together. We may have absorbed a few words from a handful of languages, but we haven’t absorbed the people who originally spoke them, leaving them on the outside, begging to be let in. It is hardly an accident that the well-to-do upper class white male is able to indulge his desires and emerge from the experience entirely unscathed, while the Hispanic woman is tossed out of the community and left only with her brittle memories of these brief moments of happiness.
Score: 78/100
Wherein bon vivant Ben Livant and I (Dan Jardine) speak our minds about movies, mostly.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Shaun of the Dead (2004, UK, Edgar Winter) AKA Harold and Kumar go to the Winchester Pub
In 1978 I saw THE zombie movie. For me, that viewing experience of George A. Romero’s brilliantly bloody Dawn of the Dead did such a stellar job of combining bitingly incisive and hilarious social satire with imagery of near-unrivaled gruesomeness that this film raised the bar for zombie flicks so high that most filmmakers in that genre have been content to limbo beneath it ever since. Rather than attempt to scale these lofty heights, however, Shaun of the Dead chooses to exploit the genre’s conventions to induce a few thrills, while simultaneously and more importantly (in the tradition of the Scream series) parodying them mercilessly, for considerably more guffaws than groans.
Like all good self-respecting zombie flicks, Shaun of the Dead deals in sly, if not exactly subtle, social commentary, as promising young filmmaker Edgar Winter and his writing partner Simon Pegg (who also stars as the titular lead) take the opportunity to satirize the workaday elements of contemporary British culture. The film leads us to conjecture, among other things, whether there really is all that much difference between these club-footed flesh eaters wandering dazedly through the streets of North London and the dullards trudging to work on public transit and drifting near-comatose through their daily lives. The film is an endless mocking of its unmotivated and aimless near 30 year-old British slacker leads, Ed, the human orangutan (Nick Frost, who looks something like Timothy Spall’s bastard child) and Shaun (Pegg) and the pub culture that they are immersed in. These two gents are a pair of unambitious slovenly underachievers whose inertia make Harold and Kumar look like Lewis & Clark. Kate Ashfield, who played Lucy in Tim Roth’s unforgettable War Zone, is terrific as Liz, Shaun’s resolute soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, who tries vainly to rouse Shaun out of his rut and into a life with more meaning. Her inclusion allows the film to target quite ambitiously and with deadly accuracy the conventions of genres as disparate as zombie flicks and romantic comedies. This broadness of scope allows the film to reach for deeper moments of emotional resonance in its third act that are only partially attained, but give the film credit for even thinking of trying to go there. This is, after all, a gross out comedy at heart; it’s merely dressed up as a horror film.
The film is rife with delicious set pieces, from the scene where Ed and Shaun are trying to decide which of Shaun’s albums to frisbee at the zombies, to the jukebox scene where they lay a syncopated beating on the pub owner, Winter certainly knows how to deliver his slapstick efficiently. It’s also fun to listen to Shaun get upset with people when they call the undead zombies, cuz, like so many other setups in this film, it is delivered so beautifully when they wind up holed up in the Winchester pub, though to explain how would be to risk serious spoilerage.
Shaun of the Dead is particularly entertaining in the way that Wright and Pegg deliver so nicely on a number of set ups. Further, Shaun of the Dead is relentless in its willingness to attack the flaws of its central characters and their banal British pub culture, while at the same time and somewhat perversely, providing something of a loving tribute to them (and it) as well. Indeed, what will ultimately stick with me when I think back on the film years from now is its creation of the two hapless dudes Shaun and Ed, who have taken their place alongside Harold and Kumar in my affection.
Unfortunately, the film sometimes operates in fits and starts, as Wright abandons his satire for chunks of time, and backs away from it entirely during the film’s climactic showdown just when he could have really driven his stakes into the heart of the whole zombified military culture. Instead, he employs them in that most tedious of narrative tricks, the deus ex machina; hence, Shaun comes up a bit short when compared to Romero’s mother of all zombie flicks.
Still and all, director Edgar Wright has certainly made a capable and entertaining feature film debut, and announced himself as a most promising voice in the field of zombie parodies. Admittedly, it’s a narrow field, so here’s hoping Wright finds a way to worm his way out so he can direct his subversive aim at other worthy genre blenders. I’d like to suggest striking up an ad hoc committee to feed him some ideas for future parodies, such as the fantasy-western, or the sci-fi musical. What d’ya say Edgar? Are you game, boyo?
Score: 76/100
In 1978 I saw THE zombie movie. For me, that viewing experience of George A. Romero’s brilliantly bloody Dawn of the Dead did such a stellar job of combining bitingly incisive and hilarious social satire with imagery of near-unrivaled gruesomeness that this film raised the bar for zombie flicks so high that most filmmakers in that genre have been content to limbo beneath it ever since. Rather than attempt to scale these lofty heights, however, Shaun of the Dead chooses to exploit the genre’s conventions to induce a few thrills, while simultaneously and more importantly (in the tradition of the Scream series) parodying them mercilessly, for considerably more guffaws than groans.
Like all good self-respecting zombie flicks, Shaun of the Dead deals in sly, if not exactly subtle, social commentary, as promising young filmmaker Edgar Winter and his writing partner Simon Pegg (who also stars as the titular lead) take the opportunity to satirize the workaday elements of contemporary British culture. The film leads us to conjecture, among other things, whether there really is all that much difference between these club-footed flesh eaters wandering dazedly through the streets of North London and the dullards trudging to work on public transit and drifting near-comatose through their daily lives. The film is an endless mocking of its unmotivated and aimless near 30 year-old British slacker leads, Ed, the human orangutan (Nick Frost, who looks something like Timothy Spall’s bastard child) and Shaun (Pegg) and the pub culture that they are immersed in. These two gents are a pair of unambitious slovenly underachievers whose inertia make Harold and Kumar look like Lewis & Clark. Kate Ashfield, who played Lucy in Tim Roth’s unforgettable War Zone, is terrific as Liz, Shaun’s resolute soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, who tries vainly to rouse Shaun out of his rut and into a life with more meaning. Her inclusion allows the film to target quite ambitiously and with deadly accuracy the conventions of genres as disparate as zombie flicks and romantic comedies. This broadness of scope allows the film to reach for deeper moments of emotional resonance in its third act that are only partially attained, but give the film credit for even thinking of trying to go there. This is, after all, a gross out comedy at heart; it’s merely dressed up as a horror film.
The film is rife with delicious set pieces, from the scene where Ed and Shaun are trying to decide which of Shaun’s albums to frisbee at the zombies, to the jukebox scene where they lay a syncopated beating on the pub owner, Winter certainly knows how to deliver his slapstick efficiently. It’s also fun to listen to Shaun get upset with people when they call the undead zombies, cuz, like so many other setups in this film, it is delivered so beautifully when they wind up holed up in the Winchester pub, though to explain how would be to risk serious spoilerage.
Shaun of the Dead is particularly entertaining in the way that Wright and Pegg deliver so nicely on a number of set ups. Further, Shaun of the Dead is relentless in its willingness to attack the flaws of its central characters and their banal British pub culture, while at the same time and somewhat perversely, providing something of a loving tribute to them (and it) as well. Indeed, what will ultimately stick with me when I think back on the film years from now is its creation of the two hapless dudes Shaun and Ed, who have taken their place alongside Harold and Kumar in my affection.
Unfortunately, the film sometimes operates in fits and starts, as Wright abandons his satire for chunks of time, and backs away from it entirely during the film’s climactic showdown just when he could have really driven his stakes into the heart of the whole zombified military culture. Instead, he employs them in that most tedious of narrative tricks, the deus ex machina; hence, Shaun comes up a bit short when compared to Romero’s mother of all zombie flicks.
Still and all, director Edgar Wright has certainly made a capable and entertaining feature film debut, and announced himself as a most promising voice in the field of zombie parodies. Admittedly, it’s a narrow field, so here’s hoping Wright finds a way to worm his way out so he can direct his subversive aim at other worthy genre blenders. I’d like to suggest striking up an ad hoc committee to feed him some ideas for future parodies, such as the fantasy-western, or the sci-fi musical. What d’ya say Edgar? Are you game, boyo?
Score: 76/100
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004, USA, Kerry Conlan) AKA Retro Chick
The audience’s response to Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow is going to serve as a litmus test of sorts. The kind of people who complain about how many of the Coen Bros. films are defined by their stultifying movie artifice, set in a hermetically-sealed world with stereotypes in place of characters, are going to be the same folks who will be sure to hate Sky Captain. On the other hand, those who dig the in-jokes and self-referentiality of the Coen’s films will find this one fun on at least that level, while those who love computer generated imagery are probably wet-dreaming as I speak. Me, I fall into the surprisingly impressed yet ultimately underwhelmed camp.
Sky Captain is the story of Joe (Jude Law), a dashing young man at the head of a rag-tag band of mercenaries doing their best to protect the world from a massive menace of roving robots who have taken to striking large urban areas and harvesting their energy supplies. It is also the story of Polly (Gwyneth Paltrow), the ambitious and spunky reporter who is determined to cover this story, regardless of her spotty history with our titular hero and the great danger it will surely entail.
Set in the late 1930s, the film looks like no other in that it has chosen a particularly cinematically-retro look, which was accomplished through immaculate art design and some very powerful computer programs. Sky Captain is the directorial debut of Kerry Conran, who designed and shot this film almost entirely with the aid of computer-generated technology. Filmed on a soundstage in front of a blue screen, a la George Lucas and the last pair of Star Wars pictures, very little outside of the generally gorgeous actors exists in a reality outside of a computer program. However, unlike Lucas, Conran at least manages to coax some interesting performances out of his cast, while also designing a world that is both plausible and visually interesting. The art design throughout is immaculate, and Conran’s decision to film in grainy sepia-tones the correct one, as it immediately establishes the approriate atmosphere. The film’s expressionistic sets, lighting and cinematography work wonders to create a film that certainly knows how to walk the walk..
Unfortunately, it is when the movie tries to talk the talk that we are introduced to its one glaring weakness, packed as it is with both faceless dialogue and fuzzy narrative logic. While Polly and Joe are meant to remind us of the sexual duels of yesteryear, and both Paltrow and Law certainly cut attractively retro figures, neither will be mistaken for the clever Hank Fonda and Babs Stanwyk or the bickering Roz Russell and Cary Grant, because instead of lacing us wickedly with a similarly witty banter they slap us sloppily with a series of forgettable wet noodles. While Conran’s script does manage to squeeze out the occasional cute quip, they prove to be the proverbial few and much too far between.
Some of the film’s set pieces are drop-dead gorgeous, but many are copped shamelessly from the films that have inspired it. This is a second generation homage, inspired by the films that were themselves inspired by earlier films. So the typical impression is that we’re being given hints of Star Wars via Buck Rodgers and Flash Gordon, or Raiders of the Lost Ark via King Solomon’s Mines, and the effect is to contribute to the sort of temporal displacement that is, to put it politely, counterproductive to the film’s intentions.
Sky Captain is a visual treat that will appeal to lovers of old movies and those who can appreciate a well-mounted production. Still, the stock dialogue undermines Conran’s attempt to recreate a corny 40s movie world, as does his simultaneous attempt to appear slick and beautiful and hip. A little more raggedness around the edges of the production, and particularly in the performances of the nearly too-perfect looking Law and Paltrow might have helped. Still, the film does manage to elicit some laughter and I do have to admit to respecting the filmmaker’s aim here, even if he proves to be a little of the mark.
Score: 68/100
The audience’s response to Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow is going to serve as a litmus test of sorts. The kind of people who complain about how many of the Coen Bros. films are defined by their stultifying movie artifice, set in a hermetically-sealed world with stereotypes in place of characters, are going to be the same folks who will be sure to hate Sky Captain. On the other hand, those who dig the in-jokes and self-referentiality of the Coen’s films will find this one fun on at least that level, while those who love computer generated imagery are probably wet-dreaming as I speak. Me, I fall into the surprisingly impressed yet ultimately underwhelmed camp.
Sky Captain is the story of Joe (Jude Law), a dashing young man at the head of a rag-tag band of mercenaries doing their best to protect the world from a massive menace of roving robots who have taken to striking large urban areas and harvesting their energy supplies. It is also the story of Polly (Gwyneth Paltrow), the ambitious and spunky reporter who is determined to cover this story, regardless of her spotty history with our titular hero and the great danger it will surely entail.
Set in the late 1930s, the film looks like no other in that it has chosen a particularly cinematically-retro look, which was accomplished through immaculate art design and some very powerful computer programs. Sky Captain is the directorial debut of Kerry Conran, who designed and shot this film almost entirely with the aid of computer-generated technology. Filmed on a soundstage in front of a blue screen, a la George Lucas and the last pair of Star Wars pictures, very little outside of the generally gorgeous actors exists in a reality outside of a computer program. However, unlike Lucas, Conran at least manages to coax some interesting performances out of his cast, while also designing a world that is both plausible and visually interesting. The art design throughout is immaculate, and Conran’s decision to film in grainy sepia-tones the correct one, as it immediately establishes the approriate atmosphere. The film’s expressionistic sets, lighting and cinematography work wonders to create a film that certainly knows how to walk the walk..
Unfortunately, it is when the movie tries to talk the talk that we are introduced to its one glaring weakness, packed as it is with both faceless dialogue and fuzzy narrative logic. While Polly and Joe are meant to remind us of the sexual duels of yesteryear, and both Paltrow and Law certainly cut attractively retro figures, neither will be mistaken for the clever Hank Fonda and Babs Stanwyk or the bickering Roz Russell and Cary Grant, because instead of lacing us wickedly with a similarly witty banter they slap us sloppily with a series of forgettable wet noodles. While Conran’s script does manage to squeeze out the occasional cute quip, they prove to be the proverbial few and much too far between.
Some of the film’s set pieces are drop-dead gorgeous, but many are copped shamelessly from the films that have inspired it. This is a second generation homage, inspired by the films that were themselves inspired by earlier films. So the typical impression is that we’re being given hints of Star Wars via Buck Rodgers and Flash Gordon, or Raiders of the Lost Ark via King Solomon’s Mines, and the effect is to contribute to the sort of temporal displacement that is, to put it politely, counterproductive to the film’s intentions.
Sky Captain is a visual treat that will appeal to lovers of old movies and those who can appreciate a well-mounted production. Still, the stock dialogue undermines Conran’s attempt to recreate a corny 40s movie world, as does his simultaneous attempt to appear slick and beautiful and hip. A little more raggedness around the edges of the production, and particularly in the performances of the nearly too-perfect looking Law and Paltrow might have helped. Still, the film does manage to elicit some laughter and I do have to admit to respecting the filmmaker’s aim here, even if he proves to be a little of the mark.
Score: 68/100
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