A bunch of stray thoughts about the Alien movies, because I feel like it:
So, I’ve been showing the Alien movies to my brother. I hadn’t seen most of them in a while (probably 9th or 10th grade), and I’m happy to say the first three hold up very well.
My favorite interpretation (can’t remember where I first heard this, but it’s cool) of the Alien trilogy (we’ll get to that “fourth” film later) imagines the series as a metaphor for terminal illness. Basically, in Alien, you’re diagnosed with cancer. Aliens, you’ve fought it off for a while and you begin to feel confident. Finally, in Alien 3, the cancer suddenly takes a turn for the worse and you’re fucked.
Most people’s big problem with Alien 3 is the fact that they killed off Newt and Hicks in the first ten minutes of the movie. I’ll admit this has always bothered me (simply a waste of a couple cool characters), but it’s the main thing that makes the cancer metaphor work. Just when you think you’ve beaten one form of cancer, it might of spread somewhere else. And just when Ripley thought she had escaped from the queen and saved the lives of her new surrogate daughter and possible future love interest, their ship crashes on a prison planet, killing them both.
The Alien franchise is certainly the bleakest mainstream sci-fi series I can think of. Alien 3 strips Ripley of everything—and she had already lost a lot in the first two films. Her sacrifice at the end of that film is fucking powerful.
I’m pretty tired of defending Alien 3. If you really dismiss that movie just because Newt and Hicks died, I don’t know what to tell you. There’s a ton of great, inventive filmmaking in that film—the opening credits, Newt and Hicks’s memorial, the attempted rape, the first person crawlspace—I could keep going. It still has a lot of my favorite sequences David Fincher has ever done (Alien 3>Panic Room and Ben Button, easily; I probably like it more than Fight Club these days, too). Stop comparing it to Aliens, and I think you’ll be surprised.
Alien Resurrection, on the other hand, is probably the worst movie in any otherwise good franchise (its closest competition is Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Battle for the Planet of the Apes, but really, both of those movies are lightyears ahead of this one). The first three Alien films tell a complete story of Ripley’s struggles against the aliens and her eventual sacrifice. Even the idea of a Ripley clone is fucking insulting, but Alien Resurrection makes it even worse by shoehorning her into a movie which is closer to a New Horizons Aliens rip-off from 1993 than any actual Alien movie.
Most of you probably know I love Joss Whedon, but his script for this movie is fucking atrocious. In a 2005 interview, he attempted to dodge blame for this steaming pile with this weak-ass spin-
It wasn’t a question of doing everything differently, although they changed the ending; it was mostly a matter of doing everything wrong. They said the lines…mostly…but they said them all wrong. And they cast it wrong. And they designed it wrong. And they scored it wrong. They did everything wrong that they could possibly do. There’s actually a fascinating lesson in filmmaking, because everything that they did reflects back to the script or looks like something from the script, and people assume that, if I hated it, then they’d changed the script…but it wasn’t so much that they’d changed the script; it’s that they just executed it in such a ghastly fashion as to render it almost unwatchable.
Weak, Whedon. Most of Resurrection’s problems can be tied straight back to the ideas present in his original treatment. Though there was no Ripley (a big plus), it was still a bland retread of the first film, much moreso than Alien 3, which often gets pegged with that criticism for some reason. All the lame “futuristic” technology in Resurrection is embarrassing, like the stupid whiskey cube and the imbecilic plot device of having people use their fucking breath for entry to whatever restricted areas there are on the ship.
The script isn’t the only fatal flaw, though. How about the typically shallow and visually hideous direction from French douche Jean-Pierre Jeunet? Or all the stupid “funny” faces the actors are making constantly? Or Winona Ryder’s delivery of the line “—Since you were born without balls!”? Or the cheap-as-fuck opening credits? Or the stupid dude in the wheelchair? Or the embarrassing basketball scene? The list goes on. What a piece of shit.
I’ll get around to rewatching Alien Vs. Predator eventually, probably before Ridley Scott’s Prometheus comes out (trailer looks dope!), but I am not looking forward to it (or its sequel, which I never saw).
The Alien movies are the only series aside from Indiana Jones which I rank in perfect descending order, though the first three are pretty close and the fourth one is pretty far down in the bowels of Hades.
Check out some more organized thoughts from my boy Dabeedo here.
Wanderlust (David Wain; 2012)
With a premise cribbed from Albert Brooks’s Lost in America and a cast ranging from the expected (The State/Stella alumni) to the happily unexpected (Alan fucking Alda), Wanderlust is pretty handily David Wain’s best movie since Wet Hot American Summer.
It follows a young couple (Paul Rudd and Jennifer Aniston) who are financially forced to leave New York City and decide to stay at a hippie commune called Elysium for a few weeks. Though it has a more coherent narrative throughline than WHAS, Wanderlust retains a lot more of the, for lack of a better term, “zaniness” of that film which was mostly absent from Wain’s previous effort, the entertaining, but kind of Apatow-lite Role Models. Paul Rudd gives his funniest, least smug performance in a while, culminating in a hilarious scene in which he psychs himself up for a tryst by describing all the places he’s going to put his cock in a ridiculous southern accent.
I expected the film’s premise to be a bit of a downside, but it turns out neo-hippies and aging hippies are still hilarious. Though Wanderlust makes a lot of jokes at their expense, it never really comes down for or against the idea of a commune, so it never feels particularly mean spirited. A jovial, occasionally poignant comedy.
![Kari-gurashi no Arietti [The Secret World of Arrietty] (Hiromasa Yonebayashi; 2010)
If you’re one of those people who avoid Studio Ghibli films not directed by their famous co-founder, Hayao Miyazaki, you’ve missed out on some of their best films (Grave of the Fireflies, Whisper of the Heart, Only Yesterday). Their 2010 effort, finally reaching North American theaters this past weekend, is The Secret World of Arrietty, scripted by Miyazaki and directed by veteran Ghibli animator Hiromasa Yonebayashi.
Like Miyazaki’s mid-period masterpieces My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service, Arrietty, based on Mary Norton’s classic children’s novel The Borrowers, is a slow paced film with little traditional conflict. Arrietty is a “borrower,” basically a miniature person who lives under the floorboards of a human family’s house and “borrows” small amounts of things they need (sugar, tissues, etc.). She lives with her parents below the floor of an older woman’s house. This woman’s ailing nephew Shaun is staying with her in the weeks leading up to an important surgery. He spots Arrietty on his first day there, which eventually forces her father to move the family out of the house. He’s seen what’s happened to other Borrowers when they’ve befriended humans, and it now seems like they’re the last of their kind.
Shaun turns out differently, though. He’s a solemn kid who has accepted his (seemingly) impending death, and he just wants to have a friend. Though there are some run-ins with a crazy housekeeper, Arrietty is mostly about this unlikely relationship and its shared silence and hope in the face of the inevitable end (in Shaun’s case, of his own life, and in Arrietty’s, her entire race).
The animation, as expected, is gorgeous. Yonebayashi provides many quietly inventive set-ups, most notably a beautiful shot of Arrietty being lifted to the top of an end table. He succeeds in creating a huge world in a film which never leaves the house or its immediate surroundings.
When Disney imports Ghibli’s films, they almost always provide a solid dub which even pleases a dub-averse viewer like myself. Aside from a somewhat lame Natasha Benningfield-esque song at the end of the credits, Disney’s version of Arrietty is respectful and never distracting. Even if you hate Disney’s dubs, the joy of seeing Ghibli films in the theater is rare.
People often talk about Pixar’s “perfect track record” (or at least they did until last year’s Cars 2—hey-oh!), but Ghibli is a more reliable source of genuine cinematic excellence. They have no fear of slowness and they have no need to please. They always leave the viewer in a simple state of awe.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lzmzjb1SJg1qzk34oo1_1280.jpg)
Kari-gurashi no Arietti [The Secret World of Arrietty] (Hiromasa Yonebayashi; 2010)
If you’re one of those people who avoid Studio Ghibli films not directed by their famous co-founder, Hayao Miyazaki, you’ve missed out on some of their best films (Grave of the Fireflies, Whisper of the Heart, Only Yesterday). Their 2010 effort, finally reaching North American theaters this past weekend, is The Secret World of Arrietty, scripted by Miyazaki and directed by veteran Ghibli animator Hiromasa Yonebayashi.
Like Miyazaki’s mid-period masterpieces My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service, Arrietty, based on Mary Norton’s classic children’s novel The Borrowers, is a slow paced film with little traditional conflict. Arrietty is a “borrower,” basically a miniature person who lives under the floorboards of a human family’s house and “borrows” small amounts of things they need (sugar, tissues, etc.). She lives with her parents below the floor of an older woman’s house. This woman’s ailing nephew Shaun is staying with her in the weeks leading up to an important surgery. He spots Arrietty on his first day there, which eventually forces her father to move the family out of the house. He’s seen what’s happened to other Borrowers when they’ve befriended humans, and it now seems like they’re the last of their kind.
Shaun turns out differently, though. He’s a solemn kid who has accepted his (seemingly) impending death, and he just wants to have a friend. Though there are some run-ins with a crazy housekeeper, Arrietty is mostly about this unlikely relationship and its shared silence and hope in the face of the inevitable end (in Shaun’s case, of his own life, and in Arrietty’s, her entire race).
The animation, as expected, is gorgeous. Yonebayashi provides many quietly inventive set-ups, most notably a beautiful shot of Arrietty being lifted to the top of an end table. He succeeds in creating a huge world in a film which never leaves the house or its immediate surroundings.
When Disney imports Ghibli’s films, they almost always provide a solid dub which even pleases a dub-averse viewer like myself. Aside from a somewhat lame Natasha Benningfield-esque song at the end of the credits, Disney’s version of Arrietty is respectful and never distracting. Even if you hate Disney’s dubs, the joy of seeing Ghibli films in the theater is rare.
People often talk about Pixar’s “perfect track record” (or at least they did until last year’s Cars 2—hey-oh!), but Ghibli is a more reliable source of genuine cinematic excellence. They have no fear of slowness and they have no need to please. They always leave the viewer in a simple state of awe.
2011 in review
2011 was a year in which I consumed a lot less film, comics, television, and music than I have in years past. I made no real attempt to “catch up” in the last few weeks, so as a result, the following lists may have an incomplete feeling. Regardless, these were my favorites.
note: I only read one 2011 book in 2011 (Supergods by Grant Morrison—it’s good), so that explains the lack of a book section.
FILM
1. Hugo (dir. Martin Scorsese)
2. Midnight in Paris (dir. Woody Allen)
3. Tabloid (dir. Errol Morris)
4. Drive (dir. Nicholas Winding Refn)
5. Rise of the Planet of the Apes (dir. Rupert Wyatt)
Honorable Mentions- The Adventures of Tintin, Super 8, Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, The Captains, The Muppets, Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
Worst movie of the year- Larry Crowne (dir. Tom Hanks)
COMICS
1. The Unwritten by Mike Carey and Peter Gross
2. Batman, Inc. by Grant Morrison, Chris Burnham, et al.
3. Hellblazer by Peter Milligan, Giuseppe Camuncoli, et al.
4. Echo/Rachel Rising by Terry Moore
5. Daredevil by Mark Waid, Paolo Rivera, and Marcos Martin
Honorable Mentions- Action Comics, Spaceman, iZombie, Morning Glories, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Wolverine and the X-Men, Usagi Yojimbo, RASL, Justice League Dark, X-Men: Schism, FF, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel and Faith, Planet of the Apes
Worst Comic of the Year- Fear Itself by Matt Fraction and Stuart Immonen (feel my disdain in three different posts!)
TELEVISION
1. Community
4. Beavis and Butt-head
5. Curb Your Enthusiasm
Honorable mentions- 30 Rock, The Simpsons (These are the only seven shows I watched with any regularity, though I’d heartily recommend this past season of all of them.)
MUSIC
1. Watch the Throne by Jay-Z and Kanye West
2. Alone III: The Pinkerton Years by Rivers Cuomo
3. Belong by The Pains of Being Pure At Heart
4. EP/Camp by Childish Gambino
5. The King is Dead by The Decemberists
Honorable mentions- Milk by The Lunatic, Hey, There’s Tommy! Hey, Tommy… Where’s Mom and Dad? by Humming Bird, Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds (self-titled), Castor, The Twin by Dessa, Take Care by Drake, Suck it and See by Arctic Monkeys, Submarine by Alex Turner
Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of a Tribe Called Quest (Michael Rapaport; 2011)
As a historical document of A Tribe Called Quest, Beats, Rhymes & Life does a great job telling the story of the first three albums (People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, The Low End Theory, and Midnight Marauders) and of giving a solid overview of the Native Tongues movement. The group’s last two albums (Beats, Rhymes & Life and The Love Movement) are glossed over in order to give more time over their contentious 2008 reunion tour. I would have liked a little more coverage of the break up, as well as more details on those final albums (their collaboration with J. Dilla on Beats, especially), but Q-Tip and Phife’s on again off again friendship certainly makes for compelling viewing, even if all of their disputes come off as rather childish on both ends. The film ends on a hopeful note with Tribe reuniting again in the summer of 2010, seemingly a lot happier to be spending time with each other than they were in ‘08. If you like A Tribe Called Quest, there’s much to learn and be entertained by here, and if you don’t like A Tribe Called Quest, what’s wrong with you?
Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson; 1945)
Boris Karloff plays a Greek general who gets trapped with a group of civilians on an island infected with a plague. As Karloff attempts to keep everyone safe and healthy, he slowly goes mad due to the influence of some crazy old woman who believes the young woman Thea to be a demon known as a vorvolaka. Isle of the Dead deals with a (perhaps made up and exploitative) conflict of faith within the Greek people, whose ancient mythology is so easily disproven. A fascinating, very literary, horror film about the suggestion of the supernatural.
“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I’ve watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.”
I rewatched Blade Runner for the first time in many years, and I have no idea why I never got that insane briefcase set or even checked out the “Final Cut.” It’s still easily one of my favorite movies. It also made me want to rewatch Alien, which I also haven’t seen in ages, and got me even more pumped for Ridley Scott’s potential return to form with Prometheus.
The Leopard Man (Jacques Tourneur; 1943)
This was apparently an uncharacteristically low budget Val Lewton production, but the first slaying in The Leopard Man is as slick and frightening as the famous bus sequence in Cat People, perhaps his most popular work. In a mostly silent chase, a young girl is on the run from a savage leopard. She reaches the door of her house, but she can’t convince her mother she’s telling the truth until it’s too late. It never quite rises to the level of that first death, at least in terms of suspense or horror, but The Leopard Man is a very good thriller, with a lot of great sustained moments in which characters simply sit and talk about life. It somehow finds room in its 66 minute run time for these types of scenes without forsaking its pace.
