Face-Huggers, Chest-Bursters, and High Expectations

Movies: Alien, Aliens, Prometheus

Ok, I'm finally getting around to reviewing what might the most controversial geek-friendly film of the year, Ridley Scott's long-awaited Prometheus, as well as two of the films that begat Prometheus: Alien and Aliens.

Up until a month ago, I was a total Alien newb. I had never seen the original film or the sequels that followed. I also didn't know anything about Prometheus and why it was filling the fever dreams of fanboys and fangirls everywhere, until my boyfriend started salivating over the previews back in January and February. After getting the lowdown (about how Prometheus *seemed* to be a prequel to Alien, but Scott and the other filmmakers were being coy about it) and watching the preview myself, I started to get psyched about the movie.


To prepare, I watched Alien and Aliens with the BF and a couple other friends and learned about the whole Alien universe and lore: face-huggers, Weyland-Yutani, "Get away from her you bitch!"...the whole nine yards. Then, finally, I stayed up past midnight to see Prometheus.

A couple things that struck me: I would rate all three movies about the same. They are all entertaining and good in different ways, as well as imperfect in differing ways. I would say that Prometheus is the most imperfect, but I also enjoyed it the most. Where it fails spectacularly, it makes up for it in other ways.

If I could assign one word to each film, I'd say that Alien is claustrophobic; Aliens is funny (thanks Bill Paxton!); and Prometheus is stylish.

The strength of Alien lies in its claustrophobia. The set is dark, dank, and crude. The workers on the ship, Nostromo, are blue-collar and thus work in blue-collar conditions. They are also expendable. And when Ellen Ripley discovers that her employers at Weyland-Yutani don't care if the passengers on Nostromo live or die, you can imagine how lonely and desperate she must feel--an emotional claustrophobia.

Ellen Ripley is the other strength of Alien and Aliens. A true feminist heroine (and "last girl", so common in horror movies), Ripley decidedly kicks ass. She is kind of the perfect woman: strong, smart, self-sufficient, and yet nurturing (taking Newt under her wing in Aliens), with a strong moral compass. But despite her seeming infallibility, Ripley never seems fake or one-dimensional. She's a phenomenal character and really carries the series on her shoulders.

By the time Aliens came out, the series (and James Cameron, who directed the film) seemed comfortable being such a well-known (and oft-quoted) part of pop culture. Aliens is funnier and feels more modern and blockbuster-y than Alien. I especially liked Bill Paxton's over the top goofy performance and outbursts, such as "Game over! Game over, man!"

So, what I'm getting at is that Alien and Aliens are both really good, but really different movies.

This brings us to Prometheus. After the film opened, the outrage began. Critics and fans alike had issues with the movie that can be distilled down to two main problems: 1) it didn't relate directly enough to the previous Alien movies, but related *just enough* to be a tease and 2) the pacing was wacky and there were too many stories crammed into one film.


The first problem is one I wasn't bothered by. Ridley Scott said that Prometheus wasn't a prequel to Alien and...he was telling the truth. It isn't. It takes place in the same universe as Alien and kind of shows a sort of origin story that runs parallel to the world of Alien, but it's not a direct prequel. This didn't bother me, but I can understand why it frustrated many diehard fans of Alien. Scott reneged on an unspoken promise he made to fans.

What did bother me was the pacing. The last 30 minutes of Prometheus is nuts. The film begins very slowly and lingers on pretty scenes and pretty actors. It effectively builds up tension and excitement--you can see how things are going to reach a tipping a point and go terribly awry. But when the shit finally hits the fan, it's so much shit that it...uh...muddies your vision. All of a sudden, twists and turns (some good, some pointless) come out of nowhere. Some of those twists are immediately and prematurely resolved to make room for new events and twists. There was one particular plot line I found terrifying and fascinating (SPOILER: it involves a late-term abortion that had my jaw on the floor), but this plot line emerged and was resolved in about fifteen minutes. It could have easily been the biggest and most important event of the movie, but it was one of about 5 major plot lines thrown at the audience in the last third of the movie. Too much.

However, despite its major problems, Prometheus was highly entertaining. It was effectively gory and horrific in a satisfying (as opposed to simply gross) way. For the most part, the acting was excellent--particularly Michael Fassbender as the amoral android David, and Noomi Rapace as Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, the most Ripley-esque of the bunch.

Prometheus also brought up many good questions. In the film, Dr. Shaw is searching for the extraterrestrial beings she believe created humans. She is a woman of faith, and her faith informs her search. But at what price? Are we intended to question and confront our Maker(s)? Shaw finds out who made the human race, but it turns out they are not the benevolent gods she thought they were. The theology of the film is interesting, if flawed, and it brings up questions about our various theologies and their relationship with science and progress.

I could go on about other themes Prometheus delves into, but this post is long enough as it is. One thing is for sure: Prometheus is a very ambitious movie. In fact, its ambition may have been its downfall. If Scott had been a little more focused, Prometheus would have been a much better movie.

Alien: 4 out of 5 stars
Aliens: 3.5 out of 5 stars
Prometheus: 3.75 out of 5 stars

Motherload

Books: Are You My Mother?

What makes a mother? The answer seems deceptively obvious: a mother is a woman who gives birth to a child. But what if your mother gave birth to you, but never fully connected to you, or you to her? What if your mother encouraged your intellectual pursuits, but refused to kiss you goodnight after you turned 7 years old? What if your mother shunned intimacy and couldn't face it when you came out as a lesbian in college?

These are some of the questions cartoonist Alison Bechdel contemplates in her graphic memoir, Are You My Mother? In her previous and intensely personal memoir, Fun Home, Bechdel focused on her father: a closeted gay man who may or may not have committed suicide (he was hit by a truck and it was never determined if it was truly an accident or not) when Bechdel was in college. Fun Home has two stories: the story of Bechdel's father, and Bechdel's own coming out story.


In Are You My Mother?, Bechdel now turns her eye to her mother, a woman who comes off as cold and detached, but garners empathy nonetheless. After all, Helen Bechdel was in a loveless marriage for years. As Bechdel remembers her, Helen was a smart, educated woman with dreams of becoming an actress. She acted in local productions her whole life, but balanced out her passions with her home life, which included raising three children. Helen acts oddly aloof about her oldest daughter and instead seems to prefer her two younger boys. It's later revealed that when Helen was a child, her own mother strongly preferred sons to daughters--a preference that Helen hated, yet inherited and passed on to her children all the same.

As in Fun Home, Are You My Mother? also has a second, parallel story: that of Bechdel's experiences in psychoanalysis. She writes about her years in therapy, discussing her dreams and buried emotions with two different therapists. She also discusses her interest in psychoanalyst and pediatrician Donald Winnicott and her research on child development and psychology.

Although at times the narrative is hard to follow because Bechdel jumps backwards and forwards in time so much, Are You My Mother? is an intellectually and emotionally satisfying graphic memoir. Bechdel's tangents on Winnicott's research, the novels of Virginia Woolf, and her own childhood come together in a beautiful way that reveals the interconnectedness of life. Her illustrations are detailed enough to show the emotions of the characters, but not so detailed that they distract from the story.

Although I consider Fun Home to be Bechdel's masterpiece, Are You My Mother? proves that she has a seemingly bottomless talent and an ability to honestly--even ruthlessly--assess her own personal experiences, while not becoming cynical or alienated.

4 out of 5 stars

Good Vibrations

Movies: Hysteria

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Hysteria, a film that is hardly a realistic portrayal of 1880's London, is based on true events and true beliefs about women's psyches and anatomy that are laughably outrageous today, but were taken as gospel not much more than a century ago.

The term "hysteria" refers to a medical diagnosis that dates back to ancient Greece, but was incredibly common in the late 1800's. Women were far more commonly diagnosed with hysteria than men, and the symptoms ranged from a high libido, to frigidity, to muscle spasms, to intense emotions. Symptoms of hysteria were like astrological horoscopes: vague and all-encompassing enough to be found in anyone.

Nowadays, it's generally accepted that "hysteria" was a way of diagnosing most women as "crazy", "irrational", or "unsatisfied". Anyone who was a challenge to the male-dominated society of the time could easily be filed away as just another "hysterical woman". And although we've come a long way since the days of forced institutionalization, hysterectomies, and clitoridectomies as "treatments" for hysteria, it's not uncommon to see women's emotions and sexual appetites classified as irrational, neurotic, and somehow wrong or less-than compared to men's emotions and sexual appetites. 

Speaking of prescriptive beliefs about women's sexuality and bodies, Hysteria might just be the perfect movie for 2012. While we're in the middle of a weird cultural discussion about whether birth control--let alone abortion--should be considered basic health care (it should), Hysteria, in a light-hearted fashion, reminds us that women's basic dignity and autonomy over their bodies, education, and finances are fundamental to a modern,  humane society. How many other mainstream romantic comedies have a character defending socialism and providing not just donations of money, but donations of time, energy, and man hours to the poor? How many other movies today take women's sexual pleasure seriously--and with a smile and a laugh--and not something to be punished for? 

It's hard to be a feminist in a society where people see feminism as irrelevant ("didn't all that stuff happen in the '70's?"), stereotyped ("Does that mean you hate men?"), or dismissed ("Yeah, yeah...but what about men's rights?"). Especially since, hey, it's totally not irrelevant at all! I mean, legislation is being passed to severely limit women's health care and bodily autonomy. Even if you're pro-life, it sets a scary and dangerous precedent. Hysteria is a film that is set in the Victorian Age, but infused with the values of our time. For some moviegoers, that is an understandable annoyance. But I feel like we need this movie in 2012, if only as a reminder that not too long ago, a woman who acted rebellious or difficult could be put away in a mental institution for life, against her will, and subject to unneeded and unwanted surgery--hysterectomy, clitoridectomy, even lobotomy. And that was wrong and inhumane.

Progressiveness happens in cycles. The pendulum sways; and this is a good thing. Too much liberalism can cause confusion. Too much conservatism can lead to stagnancy. But no matter what "phase" society is in, human dignity is non-negotiable. And, in our society, that goes double for women's dignity and rights--not because they're more important than men's rights, but because they are more tenuous. Misogyny is a bigger, more widespread problem than misandry, just as racism towards minorities is more of a problem than "reverse racism" towards whites/majorities. Don't believe me? Just turn on the news.

Hysteria is a fun and important reminder that women deserve freedom and pleasure, and that life is better when we think of those less fortunate than ourselves--and help them selflessly. Rebecca West said, "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people". You'd be surprised about how many people--men AND women--forget this! When we treat other people with dignity, it gives us dignity and separates us from other animals. No matter what your politics, if you don't see women as equal to men, racial and ethnic minorities as equal to majorities, and poor people as equal to the rich and middle class, you need to rethink your belief system. It really is non-negotiable.

4 out of 5 stars

PS: Hysteria is about the invention of the vibrator as a treatment for hysteria. Forgot to mention that!

 

<--- This was also a "treatment".

The Folly of Love

Movies: The Princess of Montpensier

Bertrand Tavernier's lush film The Princess of Montpensier felt like a cinematic romance novel: set in 16th century France at the height of the Catholic/Protestant wars, the film follows Princess Marie de Montpensier and the men who lust/love/jealously obsess over her. At the start of the film, Marie is engaged to Mayenne de Guise, but is in love with Mayenne's brother, Henri. Everyone, including Mayenne, knows this and seems pretty OK with it. There is some medieval notion of chivalrous love behind Marie and Henri's affections: one can easily be married to one man, and in love with another (provided the lovers never consummate get caught consummating their lust).

But Marie's fortunes change when the Duc de Montpensier convinces her father to marry her off to his son, the Prince of Montpensier, in order to make a lucrative alliance. At first, Marie will have none of it, but her mother finally convinces Marie to submit to the will of her father and marry the Prince. After all, if Marie had married Mayenne de Guise, it would only be a matter of time before she and Mayenne's brother gave in to temptation...which wouldn't have been good for anyone.

The Prince de Montpensier is no grotesque monster: he is a young, handsome man who is invested in Marie's education and seemingly wants Marie to fall in love with him. But Marie is like the Bella Swan of this movie, and every man within a 10 foot radius of the woman seems to fall in love with her, causing immature (if understandable) jealousy from the Prince.

Marie stays at the Prince's remote castle and is tutored in poetry and astronomy by the Comte de Chabannes, an older gentleman and mentor of the Prince who abandoned warfare after killing a pregnant woman in battle. The Prince goes off to fight--alongside Marie's beloved Henri, no less. During the course of the film, Marie, the Prince, Henri, and other lovestruck gentleman are continually thrown into social situations which test Marie's faithfulness and the Prince's ability to control his jealous outbursts.

I was reminded of Romeo and Juliet while watching The Princess of Montpensier. When I was in high school, everyone thought Shakespeare's most famous work was about love. Love so strong, it transcended death. When I got older, I realized that Romeo and Juliet is not about love at all, but teenagers afflicted with infatuation. Likewise, The Princess of Montpensier is about a bunch of young adults who are forced by their era, culture, and class into serious situations such as war and marriage, while still saddled with the passionate, unreasonable emotions that afflict people their age.

By my description, the film might sound trite, silly, or tedious--but it's actually quite engrossing. It helps that the costumes and cinematography are breathtakingly beautiful. And despite the pettiness of Marie and Henri's puppy love and the Prince's anger and insecurity, there is a sense of desperation and, ultimately, resignation, in the characters that makes the film interesting. By today's standards, many of these characters have little to no personal choice*. They are pawns by those (their parents, the Church) more powerful than they are, and their precious little "feelings" mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.

One character I really liked was the Comte de Chabannes He is a man whose personal beliefs, and not religion, law, or customs dictate his actions. He cannot stand the indignities of war, and so he leaves. He has feelings for Marie, and so he tells her, but respectfully backs away when she rebuffs him. He is a man who stands above the fray simply because he stands for something other than money, power, or lust.

4 out of 5 stars

* I realize that my understanding of the concept of "personal choice" and what makes a "good" life is inextricably bound up in my own culture and era. Director Bertrand Tavernier deserves acknowledgement for not turning this film into a reflection of 21st values set in the 16th century. He portrays the characters doing and believing what they are brought up to do and believe--just as we do and believe what we are brought up to do and believe today--without judgement.

Paterfamilias

Movies: The Descendants

Major plot points are given away in this review, fyi.

For all the hype and praise I heard about the Oscar-nominated film The Descendants, I wasn't super-impressed by it. That's not to say it was bad; it just didn't live up to the hype. And I kinda blame this on the casting of George Clooney as the lead.

Written and directed by one of the kings of uncomfortable comedy, Alexander Payne (who also wrote and directed two of my favorite films, Sideways and Election), I expected The Descendants to be much darker and funnier than it was. The film concerns Matt King (Clooney), who is going through some tough times, to say the least. He is the heir to some major acreage on Kauai, a Hawaiian island, and is under pressure by his extended family to sell the land so they can all make some big bucks. Matt is also the father of two precocious and rebellious daughters, whom he loves, but has difficulty relating to.


Finally, Matt has a wife, Elizabeth, who is in a coma from a boating accident. If that wasn't bad enough, Matt discovers that Elizabeth was cheating on him. Elizabeth's friends know and his oldest daughter know, but Matt had no idea. And now he may never be able to get answers or an apology from his comatose wife. Just imagine what it would be like to find out someone you loved betrayed you...and never having the opportunity to get an explanation from them or to let them know you forgive--or don't forgive--them.

Talk about some bad luck. But despite the difficult and devastating situations Matt is in, The Descendants felt very gentle to me. It's a film about dealing with the death of a loved one, learning how to be a good parent, and figuring out how to forgive. It's not preachy, but it's also not nihilistic or bitter. The Descendants succeeds in its humanity and "shit happens, but that doesn't mean life can't be joyous" attitude.

Where The Descendants failed is in it's selection of a compelling leading man. Don't get me wrong, George Clooney is a great actor. And he can *do* sadness--provided it's a certain kind of sadness. He was excellent in his role as Ryan Bingham, the detached, ambivalent-about-relationships protagonist of Up in the Air. But I had trouble buying his take as the grieving cuckold with the weight of the world on his shoulders in The Descendants. Clooney is too slick, too handsome, too capable. Clooney plays Matt King like he played Ryan Bingham: a man who belongs in the sky, always moving, never settling. But the problem is that Matt King belongs on the earth. He's a man who has set down roots and thought he knew where his life was going. King is a man comfortable in a family, with a monogamous marriage and a daily routine. But Clooney is not an earthy actor.

With all of the shit that comes Matt's way, the filmmakers should have chosen an actor who isn't afraid to wallow in it a bit; to get emotionally dirty. Clooney lets nearly everything roll right off his back: He is relatively calm in the face of his wife's injury and impending death; he ignores his daughters' sass; he provides emotional support to his family and friends during the very time he needs support; he confronts his wife's lover, only to forgive and let go. I just didn't buy it. I guess it can't all be blamed on Clooney--after all, I suppose Alexander Payne wrote Matt King to be that kind of calm man. And, sure, calm men exist in real life. But I can't help but side eye a man who is calm throughout the adultery and death of a spouse, all while in the midst of a tense situation with his extended family (over the land).

The Descendants reminded me of Crazy, Stupid, Love--another film I couldn't quite get a handle on. I liked a lot of things about Crazy, Stupid, Love but I also felt that it had this glossy sheen over it, which kept it from being a truly *great* film. It wanted to be real, but not ugly. The Descendants is the same way--afraid to get too ugly. And, you know, that's fine. Not all movies have to be ugly and uber-realistic. But I thought The Descendants stood to gain a lot by being a little less airy and a little more down to earth.

3.5 out of 5 stars