The Star Wars

I do not plan on seeing the latest Star Wars film that everyone is so excited about.

I was intensely devoted to the series as a youth--so much so that I have, to this day, most of the dialogue of the original three films memorized. The films completely dominated my childhood imagination and toy-collecting. Later, I read the novelizations, some of the comic books, and listened to the (surprisingly good) radio adaptation of the film.

This great well of enthusiasm for The Star Wars was steadily diminished, and then actually transmuted into an equally intense revulsion, through the strange alchemy of the Star Wars prequels.

I have no doubt that Disney and J. J. Abrams have succeeded in producing cinematic fare that is less infuriatingly awful than Episodes I to III of the Star Wars saga. However, what the latest film appears to have in common with the prequels (by all accounts) is the absence of any shred (howsoever slender) of authentic human interest or emotion. Instead, all of these films are skillfully but cynically created vehicles for Disney's Galactic Empire of merchandising and tie-ins.

It's true that the Star Wars films were intended as vehicles for merchandising from the beginning. However, the first three films (Episodes IV to VI) at least managed to combine their frenetic action, obsession with sound and visual effects, and barrage of space vehicles and other sci-fi hoo-ha with well-drawn (if simple) characters, genuinely interesting (if occasionally choppy) plot arcs, and dialogue that was at least not uniformly wooden and terrible.

The first Star Wars film (1977) was also genuinely innovative with respect to the wider world of cinema. To wit: the aforementioned sound and visual effects were at the time revolutionary and ushered in a cascade of technical innovations; the pacing and editing of the films set a new standard for action films; and George Lucas' deliriously bizarre but somehow deeply coherent mash-up of the space opera, samurai, Western, and war film genres was genuinely inspired.

So here is a fistful of links to solemnly mark this week's epoch-making cinematic event (ahem). Enjoy!

1. Original Star Wars concept art.

2. Cracked's David Wong on "5 Things 'Star Wars' Fans Don't Understand about 'Star Wars'."

3. George Lucas' Star Wars Rough Draft from 1974.

4. Prescient but spoiler-free review of "The Force Awakens."

5. Thoughts on the issue of race in "The Force Awakens."

"An Honest Liar" (2015)

Not only is this film a layered look at the role of truth and deception in The Amazing Randi's own life, it gives evidence of the stubbornness of people's will to believe in the paranormal and the supernatural, even in the face of decisive refutation. 

Uri Geller, who has been exposed as a fraud repeatedly over the years, both by Randi and by others, still makes a living doing his tricks--even though he stopped referring to himself as a psychic, and now denies that he has psychic powers. It's pretty frightening that even exposed, admitted frauds can still find people to support their flim-flam, and make millions of dollars in so doing. As the film points out, people WANT to believe, and they will, even when the person deceiving them no longer bothers to hide the deception. That's powerful stuff. 

Update Regarding Ed Burger's "One Mind"

Edward A. Burger's forthcoming documentary "One Mind" has finished filming and is now in post-production. The film examines life in a Chinese Chan (Zen) monastery. 

Mr. Burger's previous work includes the film "Amongst White Clouds," which provided an introduction to the Chinese Buddhist hermit tradition.

These film projects were inspired in large part by Bill Porter's book Road to Heaven: Encounters with Chinese Hermits, which chronicled Porter's travels searching for Buddhist and Daoist hermits in the Zhongnan Mountains. More recently, he wrote a book called Zen Baggage, which chronicled his pilgrimage to sites associated with the earliest Zen Patriarchs. Porter is most well-known as a translator of Chinese Buddhist texts under the nomme de plume Red Pine. 

"Destino" (1946/2003)

This short animated film was a collaboration between Salvador Dali and Disney animator John Hench. The short began production in 1945-1946, but was only completed in 2003, based on the original storyboards and one test animation (the turtle sequence).

The Huffington Post has a story about the friendship between Walt Disney and Salvador Dali.

Flash Gordon (1980)

On the one hand, I appreciate the film's retro-future look, inspired by the Golden Age of science fiction, together with its fantastic and gaudy design, seemingly inspired by 70s rock album covers. But the writing, direction, and production are terrible.

It turns out the director is Mike Hodges of "Get Carter" (1971) fame. This is a shocker, since "Get Carter" is one of the best British gangster films ever.

The Wikipedia entry for "Flash Gordon" does contain an exculpatory quote from Lorenzo Semple, Jr. (the writer of the picture): a lot of the film's problems were caused by the fact that both he and producer Dino de Laurentis dithered between whether they wanted to make a humorous, campy film or a more "serious" action film (it ended up doing neither well, of course).

Surprisingly, the film was profitable, making more than twice its budget.

Here is the hawkmen battle scene:

The infamous football fight scene:

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010)

I recently watched "Uncle Boonmee" for the first time. I have wanted to watch this film since its release, but never quite got around to watching it until now.

It has an art film sensibility, but is totally respectful towards its characters and audience. The film provides insight (or seems to) about Thai folk beliefs on reincarnation and the afterlife, and on the role of Buddhism in Thai popular culture.

The film's theme is (largely) the great matter of life and death, not just the afterlife per se.

Easy Rawlins TV Series?

I just learned that, a couple of years agom there was a project in the words for a TV series based on Walter Mosley's famous black private detective character Easy Rawlins, but that NBC ultimately decided to take a pass. This is unfortunate, and hopefully another similar project will see the light of day--preferably one produced by HBO, Netflix, or Amazon, rather than by NBC or another network, however.

To my mind, "Devil in a Blue Dress" (1995) was a fantastic film, and is a proof of concept of an Easy Rawlins TV series.

More on Patrick Stuart's Ships-Only Analysis of the Star Trek Feature Films

In an earlier links post, I noted that Patrick Stuart has given a systematic analysis of the first ten Star Trek feature films based solely on shots containing spaceships. (He covers the fifth through the tenth films in part two, here.)

On a certain social network which shall not be named, my dear childhood friend Mike Spasoff rankled at the following claim made by Stuart towards the beginning of his two-part analysis:

It was interesting to see the seismic effect that CGI had on the storytelling of the series. 

Short version - it fucked it up.

I agree with Mike that it is foolish to criticize all CGI as inferior to all practical effects (for such I take to be the substance of his cavil). However, there are three qualifications which Stuart makes to his claim about CGI, which considerably limit the scope of his claim, but which also make his claim more interesting thereby: (1) He says this is the "short version." :) (2) He is talking about the effect of CGI on "storytelling" specifically. (3) He is talking about the effect of CGI on storytelling "in this series" specifically.

On the other hand, after reading through the rest of Stuart's two-part review, it does seem that his main critique of the CGI versions of the space ships is that they simply don't look as real or convincing as the practical models (for example, he refers to the CGI renderings as having a "plastic" look to them). And he's right. But in his in-depth analysis, Stuart doesn't really explicitly clarify the effect that the shoddy CGI had on the storytelling. Still, I think he is on to something.

In general, I especially appreciated Stuart's discussion of (1) the difference between the scale of the space shots in "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" and the later films, and (2) the use of "azteking" (a kind of techno-patina) in the shots of the Enterprise in the later films. Regarding (1), his point is that the later films go for a less accurate and "lazier" medium scale, rather than for shots in which things are far away and small or close up and huge, which (he argues) is more representative of what things would actually be like given interstellar travel (ahem).

Solaris (1972)

I finally watched Andrei Tarkovsky's masterpiece "Solaris" in its entirety. When it was initially released, the film was widely compared to Stanley Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968). Tarkovsky's future echoes some of the modernist design which can be found in "2001," but overall the future is less sterile in Tarkovsky's film; there are many shots which linger on the earth's countryside and sundry natural vignettes (as is typical of Tarkovsky), which are later echoed by the more exotic natural scenes from the planet Solaris, and Tarkovsky's future contains more remnants from mankind's past, which reminds us that the future is not only the new, but also the accumulation of history and culture.

The shot of the library shown above represents the most deliberately archaic aspect of the film; the space station's library seems to represent the inheritance of the past and human culture which has been brought into space, and which humans use to try to make sense of the new and the unknown. The most audacious example of Tarkovsky's deliberate archaism is the candelabra with lit candles that makes several appearances in this scene:

Because of its links to the past and to nature, Tarkovsky's imagined future feels grounded and real, despite the primitive special effects employed. The effects are primitive even by the standards of the day; the film's production seems hearkens back to the golden age of cinema, which is probably a reflection of the limited budgets and technical skill of the Mosfilm studio. While at least partly unintended, this actually contributes to the film's timeless feel.

The entirety of the film is available on the internet for free, but I watched the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray edition. Here is a clip which shows the famous levitation scene in the library:

Under the Skin (2013)

A mysterious, stunning, haunting film. One of the best of 2013.

Sequel Madness

This post is pretty late to the party. I hope it is fashionably late, rather than rudely so. In any event, perhaps timeliness is the enemy of judiciousness; if so, the timing seems perfect.

To wit: I asked a former student of mine, who is a fan of the Star Wars saga, the following question about the upcoming sequels: While some people are discussing the possibility that there will be female stormtroopers in the films, why are there going to be stormtroopers of any kind, granted that the Galactic Empire was defeated at the end of Episode VI?

My student's guess, which had also occurred to me, is that the writers will postulate the continued existence of other, undefeated Imperial commanders and forces, who will then furnish suitably Imperial foes (stormtroopers included) for our still plucky (?) rebels to struggle with. This, of course, would follow the precedent set by some of the Expanded Universe material generated in the wake of Episodes IV-VI.

My underlying concern is that the new films are just going to have the protagonists re-fight the same fights as in Episodes I-VI in an unconvincing and ultimately uninteresting fashion. Why can't the new films explore something genuinely new in this interesting and rich universe? Does it always have to be about stormtroopers and Darth Vader?

Imagine, for instance, the new problems and conflicts that could emerge when the Rebels become the new establishment, and when they attempt to establish a New Republic with a new constitution, new laws, and new policies. Granted, given the mythology of the setting, one would suspect some role to be played by the Dark Side in whichever conflicts become salient, but this by no means entails continued struggle against the Empire and its minions.

(Sigh.)

Praising by faint condemnation

SF Gate review of the Coen brothers' latest film, "Inside Llewyn Davis."

Countdown to 2150 AD

60s and 70s Science Fiction Madness

To prove: If you pursue the absurd far enough, eventually you break through to the sublime.

1. "Barbarella" (1968).

2. John Carpeneter's freshman directorial effort, "Dark Star" (1974).

3. Buck Rogers in the 25th Century theatrical pilot opening: Buck dreams of space disco queen Erin Grey for 500 years while adrift in space.

4. Buck Rogers in the 25th Century: Twiki falls in love.

5. "Starcrash" (1979).

QED.

The Evolution of an SF Archetype

1. C. L. Moore's Northwest Smith;

2. George Lucas' Han Solo;

3. Joss Whedon's Malcolm Reynolds.

Links

1. Singapore's (racist?) strategy for increasing their birth rate.

2. Retire by 30?

3. 66 behind the scenes pics from the set of the The Empire Strikes Back. 

4. "Find what you love and let it kill you."

5. Fast food you can't eat in America.

6. Femivores (domestic-DIY feminists). 

David F***ing Lynch

"Eraserhead is my most spiritual movie. No one understands when I say that, but it is.

"Eraserhead was growing in a certain way, and I didn't know what it meant. I was looking for a key to unlock what these sequences were saying. Of course, I understood some of it; but I didn't know the thing that just pulled it all together. And it was a struggle. So I got out my Bible and started reading. And one day, I read a sentence. And I closed the Bible, because that was it; that was it. And then I saw the thing as a whole. And it fulfilled this vision for me, 100 percent.

"I don't think I'll ever say what that sentence was."

(David Lynch, Catching the Big Fish, p. 33.)

Passing Strange

One of the best films I saw last year was Passing Strange, Spike Lee's film of a Broadway musical's last performance at the Belasco Theatre. The musical is autobiographical, and is based on the life of its writer "Stew". Stew grew up in a middle-class black family in Los Angeles in the 1970s, but ended up passing as a ghetto black when he moved to Europe to develop his musical career. The film works on many levels, addressing issues of racial identity, prejudice both against blacks and within the black community itself, the difficulties faced by an artist attempting to find his "voice," good-old adolescent rebellion, family conflict, and more. Although he was not involved in the production of the musical itself, Spike Lee did an excellent job capturing the show's last performance on film. Highly recommended (and this from someone who ordinarily can't stand musicals of any kind).

The Examined Life Is Not Worth Watching

Last Sunday, some friends and I watched Astra Taylor's Examined Life, a film which consists of interviews with well-known contemporary philosophers such as Cornell West, Judith Butler, and Martha Nussbaum. Astra Taylor deserves credit for trying to bring philosophy to a broader audience, and for all of the thought and sheer hard work that clearly went into her film. Nevertheless, Examined Life suffers from a couple of problems. There is not enough time devoted to each philosopher, so the interviews are fairly superficial. The film would have been more focused if the philosophers had at least all been speaking on the same topic. Dialogues between two or more philosophers would probably also have been more stimulating than one-on-one interviews (in particular, an encounter between rivals Martha Nussbaum and Judith Butler would probably have been electrifying). Taylor's previous film, Zizek, was a superior effort, if only because focusing on one (albeit controversial) philosopher enabled his ideas to be explored more deeply.

On the other hand, it is gratifying to see any professionally made film about philosophers, so perhaps one should simply focus on encouraging Taylor to make more films, improving her craft in the process.