Hugh Reviews Prometheus

Although it was impossible to completely avoid the dialogue surrounding the release of Prometheus, I attempted to seclude myself in a fortress of non-spoilery solitude as much as I was able. (If you’re trying to do the same thing, you don’t want to read this) Nothing, however, could prevent me from going into the cinema knowing that the film had thus far garnered a pretty mixed reaction, which seems to be a polite way of saying people didn’t like it. And, having now seen it, I can completely understand why. Which is not to say that I didn’t like it; simply that I can see why others didn’t.

The resurrection of ‘80s franchises in modern cinema has, over the last ten years, reached a point where it has transitioned from stupid fad into zeitgeist-defining trend into the kind of joke that wasn’t funny the first time and you can’t figure out if subsequent tellings are improving the matter or not. The only trend to match it in modern cinema is the rise in popularity of zombies. And it’s amusing that the entertainment industry has become obsessed with zombies at roughly the same time that its directors and producers are necromancing the corpses of old films into shambling semblances of life en masse. I have dealt with this apocalypse a lot better than many people, perhaps because my expectations have remained modest and perhaps because I’m a tragic fan boy and perhaps for some combination of these, and other, reasons. Regardless, I’ve generally been able to enjoy these films on their own terms. It was with this background that I went into Prometheus. Also, I’d recently seen some interview footage of Ridley Scott talking about ‘the big questions’ and thought he could probably do something interesting with it.

And it is an interesting film, if you dig into it. The rapidly evolving biological weapons lab idea had a lot of merit and developed a number of interesting offshoots, though in the process certain things were made a little too clear at the expense of others remaining completely murky. (It should be noticed that some things were demonstrated with the exact right amount of clarity). The film is also desperately corny and perhaps a little too derivate and self-referential for its own good. This is always going to be the case in one of these re-enfranchised works but it has to be handled well and I think the ball was fumbled a little.

The sequencing of the first third of the film is strong and lacks any pointless padding; every shot is either advancing the story in some way or a beautiful piece of landscape/space-porn. From the point of the first foray out of the ship onward the film progressively loses its way as it tries to make up its mind exactly what it’s going to be about. The idea of tackling the question of the origin of humanity in what is –regardless, really, of any amount of dancing around the fact- an Alien film, is certainly not ludicrous but the film really needed to commit to this idea in a way that it totally failed to do. Instead it wandered aimlessly through a bunch of stock entropic plot devices, forced character conflict, ‘in’ references, absolutely gorgeous sets, and seamless CGI. This lack of cohesions is what hurt the film the most.

The other big issue was the character interactions, which were completely hollow and unbelievable; most of the characters were cardboard cutouts and with one or two exceptions no time was invested in developing their motivations. Charlie’s discord with David never seemed at all real or in anyway justified; it appeared to exist simply because in an Alien film someone has to hate the android. The surly geologist similarly seemed, to me, to be utterly contrived and unbelievable. And Charlize Theron was suitably robotic though, frankly, awful as the pole-up-the-arse corporate bigwig. Which brings me, neatly, to one of the few things that was unshakably right about Prometheus: Michael Fassbender as David was stunning! He gets to be the most developed character in the film, and seeing him evolve the fledgling stubs of emotion and personal motivation was a joy. To be honest this film is probably worth the outing simply for his performance of this character.

Other things that really did it for me were the beautiful cinematography and the alien technology. The various control elements -particularly the incorporation of sound in the interface- really enhanced the non-humanness of The Engineers. Who were, sadly, perhaps the worst done thing about the film. We spend 2 hours wondering what they are, why they acted the way they did, and what they were doing developing bizarre biological weapons on a dustball in the middle of nowhere and then the one survivor turns out to be just, well, a thug. I said the film lost its way after the first third, but the last third really accelerated the process; all of its previous sins could certainly have been forgiven if it had ended in a better way.

But it didn’t, so, oh well…

It likely sounds, at this point, like I didn’t actually like the film after all, and perhaps that is true; I haven’t really made up my mind yet. I certainly don’t regret going, I had a good time, but I left disappointed. Certain ideas in the film have kept me thinking about it, and will probably do so for the next few days. And with any luck I’ll get a couple of interesting, intelligent conversations out of it. It was an experience but not, I think, the experience I was looking for. That’s alright, but if The Dark Knight Rises lets me down like Prometheus did I’m probably going to break something.

The Verdict: Worth the trip, but don’t expect too much. 3 emergency c-sections out of 5.


Hugh Reviews Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

There are things we know without really having experienced; they are part of the background on which our lives are painted. There are words we know, and perhaps use, but cannot strictly define. There are names we’ve heard without really having an appreciation for why they exist in the popular vocabulary. For a long time the name Ray Bradbury was one of these things in my life; I knew he was an author of science fiction (my poison of choice for many years) and that he was highly regarded. Last year I felt a desire to correct this situation at a time that happened to coincide with a heavy erosion of my ‘to read’ pile.

The thing that struck me most immediately about Fahrenheit 451 was the way in which the whole idea of the story seemed to spring from the simple word play of a fireman lighting fires instead of putting them out; every other aspect of the setting could very well have been simply an exploration of the question, “In what world does such a person exist?” This is a deliciously strong vector for a story to evolve along and it keeps good company; The Hobbit was similarly a story that evolved from a simple word play.

Next, I was struck, as I often am when reading older science fiction, by the colour of the technology; at once wonderously surreal and curiously outmoded. Like many works of its era the world of Fahrenheit 451 seems a world of the middle of last century and it reads, now, more like an alternate past than an alternate future.

And then the telling social commentary began to hit home. The insights of Clarisse into the inanities that occupy peoples’ thoughts and their conversation, the extreme emotional investment in passive media, and Montag’s raw frustration at a world that has lied to him until the lies become the only truth that is available all left me feeling exposed and vulnerable; so much of the society presented in this book is uncomfortably familiar. All the elements of modern society that are broken and malicious and soul-destroying are reflected straight back off the page. And the fact that the book is fifty years old and these same issues clearly existed then in more-or-less the same form adds a layer of squirm to the mix. This book affected me emotionally in ways that a lot of science fiction doesn’t.

Fahrenheit 451 is a cutting analysis of a society that has wilfully buggered itself inside out and become the antithesis of everything good that humanity is capable of. And what is most scathing is the focus on the role of the individual in the perpetration of this evil on a large scale. There are no faceless governments and corporations that can hide behind their façade of weasel-words and claim to be free of the responsibilities of morality; there are only the people that make up these organisations, all of whom make a conscious choice at some point in their lives to abandon their ethics and give themselves over wholesale to the collective impoverishment of humanity.

And shining like a lighthouse in the middle of this godawful misery is the story of the belated coming of age of a middle-aged man.  Guy Montag’s perspective is blown open by the simple act of human interaction and he is left gaping, confused, and scared in a world he suddenly doesn’t recognise. And just possibly, amidst the murder and rape of history and smuggling away in the night of the only good people left in the world, against all the odds and despite his most desperate fuck-ups, he may just emerge from this situation a better person.

RIP Ray Bradbury.