PLASMA RIFLE ENVY

Humanity Covets Alien Firepower in Neill Blomkamp's District 9

As the faux-documentary footage near the beginning of District 9 reveals, years ago a race of large, insect-like aliens visited earth only to be quarantined -- after a failed stint a living amongst humans -- in a Johannesburg shantytown. Unable to return to their mothership, which ominously hovers over the decrepit slum, the “prawns,” as they’re known, are eventually placed under the jurisdiction of a large weapons conglomerate known as MNU. The plot details the moral reawakening of corporate wonk Wikus Van De Merwe (Sharlto Copley, oddly resembling filmmaker Spike Jonze), who is nepotistically placed in charge of relocating the troublesome shantytown residents to a tent-city concentration camp further removed from human civilization.

Following this set up is a messy social allegory in which Van De Merwe is accidentally infected by a serum that slowly transforms him into a prawn. Forced thereafter to live amongst The Other, he conspires with a scientist prawn (the only intelligent member of the race that the film offers us) to steal back the confiscated serum, which also, most conveniently, is capable of powering the aliens’ mother ship back to their home planet – where that is exactly, or what it might have been like, the film doesn’t say. And gradually, after so promising a start, we arrive at the standard paradigm for the racially-charged action picture: abusive white man is forced to live among The Other, realizes his host's humanity, and through his own heroism manages to facilitate his former foil’s emancipation. It’s a tired formula, more than a little offensive, and the innovations to it that this film offers only underscore the cliché’s insensitivity and lack of historical perspective.

The film’s most obnoxious problems rest in its dramatic treatment of the alien race: the film argues that our inhumane treatment of the aliens has led to their barbarism, yet also holds that same barbarism up for laughs, as the poverty-stricken prawns are viewed with derision, save for the aforementioned scientist, more or less the archetypal noble savage. So, which came first: human atrocity or the aliens’ own coarse nature? Neglecting the history of the prawns – or, more precisely, communicating it entirely through munitions – leaves the question frustratingly stunted.

Most problematically, the filmmakers (this is Neill Blomkamp's first feature) and MNU's nefarious corporate suits have a parallel interest in the subjugated aliens, namely their superior weaponry, which, through complex biotechnology, can only be operated by prawns themselves. Thus, within the story, there are black and gray markets for prawn flesh, which criminal gangs seek to ingest and MNU hopes to synthesize with human DNA, both with the goal of facilitating the use of the alien weaponry by human hands. Similarly, the filmmakers covet the extraordinary (and extraordinarily stylish) firepower of the prawns; as Wikus’ left hand becomes entirely prawn, he’s able to gun down corporate mercenaries and warlords with extreme prejudice. The candy-colored laser guns and pulsating explosives in the prawn arsenal clearly resemble the imaginative cavalcade featured in first-person-shooter video games, which boasts increasingly sadistic means of eliminating enemies (1). Human bodies (those of the evil bad guys) are shredded, exploded and lacerated with this firepower, dwarfing the effects of the shotguns and sniper rifles sported by the human baddies. The quest for brutal alien technology would easily make for great science fiction, but the filmmakers’ helpless indulgence in fetishized weaponry deflates any higher thematic ambition, leaving the film with a blown opportunity at its core. Even Tarantino’s most recent self-professed death-trip Inglourious Bastards can’t claim but half of District 9’s body count.

Both the faux-documentary approach (persistent, yet violated as narrative convenience dictates) and the shaky, hand-held camerawork strike against the film, the former amounting to lazy exposition, the latter, ostensibly reinforcing verisimilitude, achieving a confused mis-en-scene. Still, there are occasional bits of well-choreographed, adrenaline-pumping action, but they are rare in the film and scarcely compensate for the objectionable narrative development.

Lastly, the highlight of the film must be the digital rendering of the prawns themselves, which appear as lifelike and textured as any computer-generated creature has ever looked. The seamless situation of these finely wrought beings within a grainy documentary image makes the achievement of Peter Jackson’s Weta workshop all the more impressive. But while Weta held up their end up the bargain in creating a wholly realistic (light years beyond the computer constructs populating Jackson’s Lord of the Rings series) alien race, Blomkamp has ultimately failed in injecting these creations with a commensurate humanity, not realizing that his would-be allegory depends on it.

District 9 / USA, New Zealand / 2009 / Color / 112 min. / Directed by Neill Blomkamp / Written by Mr. Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell / Starring: Sharlto Copley, Jason Cope and Sylvaine Strike

Notes:

1 - It’s worth noting that there is a tracking shot late in the film which resembles the camera angle of FPS games – gun perched firmly in the bottom of the screen, as the background skirts by wildly – a shot not entirely uncommon in contemporary action pictures, a truly depressing cliché that shows no sign of fading away. Fitting, though, that it would show up in this picture considering Blomkamp was Producer Peter Jackson’s pick to helm the abandoned big screen adaptation of the uber-popular FPS Halo.

CH-CH-CH-CHANGES (TURN AND FACE THE STRAIN)

Body Modification as Spiritual/Aesthetic Renewal in Jason Gary and Greg Jacobson’s documentary, Modify

Modify is a compelling, if one-sided, expose on the increasingly extreme nature of body augmentation and the lifestyles that have sprung up around the practice. Unfortunately for those seeking a worthy narrative (though fortunately for those accustomed to the Youtube Shuffle), it’s more interesting as a gallery of harrowing surgical procedures, liberated self-hood, performance footage and archival curios than as a coherent history of the movement or libertarian argument against those who’d police or disparage it. Interview subjects include a man transforming himself (as far as current technological ingenuity allows) into a tiger via an artificial cleft lip and metal studs in place of whiskers, as well as a handful of industry pioneers who’ve innovated techniques for implants (horns, studs, and various geometric shapes submerged underneath the skin in various locations around the body) and genital piercings. Segments explaining these complex (often ingenious) procedures are of greatest interest: the image of a man splayed across an examination chair, inserting tiny metal balls into his own shaft is not easily forgotten. While it’s nice for those normally offered as colorful extras in film and television to be given a platform for public self-definition, there isn’t much in the way of balance; the filmmakers continually swat at an oppressive status quo that registers as far too distant to create genuine tension. It’s the film’s glaring weakness that its earnest philosophical and aesthetic claims lack polemical depth.

Modify / USA / 2005 / Color / 85 min. / Directed by Jason Gary and Greg Jacobson/ Interview Subjects: Dr. Gary Alter, Allen Falkner, Dr. Julio Garcia, Steve Haworth, Masuimi Max, Fakir Musafar and Erik ‘The Lizard Man’ Sprague

RECLAIMING THE HAMBURGER

Eric Schlosser and Michael Pollan mine the catacombs of American Agriculture in Food, Inc.

This documentary detailing the coup by which Big Business overtook the American diet does an admirable job in presenting an easily digestible history of agro-business, following characters both tragic (the grieving mother-turned-food-advocate whose son was killed by tainted hamburger) and comic (an organic, free-range farmer fond of non sequiturs) as it attempts to persuade audiences to re-commandeer their eating habits and restore a healthier, more ethical method of sustenance in the national culture.

Executive produced by Eric Schlosser, author of the classic Fast Food Nation, and with Michael Pollan (of Omnivore’s Dilemma and In Defense of Food fame) acting as special consultant (both appear extensively as interview subjects and narrators), the film has a substantial pedigree, prominently featuring two of the most visible crusaders for the betterment of the American digestive system. And the natural/healthy foods movements could not have better spokespersons: both men are cool-headed and impassionate in their presentation, as well as exhaustive researchers and unequivocal, plain speakers. That Schlosser is seen devouring a hamburger (“Still my favorite meal,” he says) in the first half hour of the film goes a long way toward dispelling notions of elitism on the part of the filmmakers and their subjects. If anything, the work of Pollan, Schlosser and director Robert Kenner is one of outraged populism, and, unlike the work of Michael Moore, just may be effective in changing minds. Their persistence is never offensively articulated, their confidence is always unwavering and their scholarly insights unimpeachable. With a bit of luck, the other columns of the green movement will unearth similarly engaging and effective figureheads instead of relying on automakers and oil companies to bring a diluted version of their message to the public. They may be short on answers, but at this point the asking of their questions is a worthy enough achievement.

However brilliant its two guides, the film itself suffers from hyperextension, as it fails in truly ruminating on each of its proposed topics. Divided into upsettingly brief chapters, the film surveys a riveting amount of material, but merely skims the surface in most of its presentations. Covering everything from immigrants’ rights to federal oversight and the history of McDonalds, the through line of the film is the rise of multinational corporations and the increasingly nefarious tactics they’ve employed to keep us hooked on the shit they serve while keeping us out of the kitchen. Lawsuits, lobbying and loopholes in immigration policy all contribute to the maintenance of the stronghold that multinational food manufactures hold on the chain of food from the field to the table. That this is the subject of a (semi-)major American motion picture is nothing short of heroic, even if the digital effects employed throughout (an unflattering byproduct of Moore Syndrome) are annoying, the basic decency of the work is unquestionable. If mildly clever digital cartoons (including businessmen on a conveyor belt being ratcheted ominously toward Ma and Pa’s farm) make the difference between Joe Six Pack seeing the movie or staying home, then it would be foolish to say they detract from the film itself. They may annoy, but they do not undermine the message.

Those familiar with the written work (or video lectures and interviews) of Schlosser and Pollan may not find much new here, but Food, Inc. functions well as a square-one document, providing enough information and gung-ho spirit for audiences to leave the theater equipped and primed for action. Fittingly, as the film closes, a series of titles implore audiences to act by shopping at farmer’s markets, eating foods in season and contacting their legislators. This section embodies both the virtue and the flaw of the entire enterprise: the zippy graphics swirl, drop, fade and disappear text across the screen like an eager PowerPoint presentation yet convey useful, pressing information. Could be worse, considering the precedent set by Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock in the past decade, in which the documentary feature has been the most popular and lucrative that it’s ever been. The braying of their contemporaries only underscores how valuable the practiced oratory of Schlosser and Pollan is to the effectiveness of the film.

As with most recent agitprop documentaries, the best Food, Inc. can do is inspire audiences to pursue a more thorough familiarity with the subject via literature or political involvement and consequently become activists in their own right. A documentary like this pleads for its own irrelevance, and rightfully so.

Food, Inc. / USA / 2008 / Color / 94 min. / Directed by Robert Kenner