The State of the Summer Blockbuster: Transforming Live Free to Die Hard

In the last week, thanks to the heat, the holiday, or the rain, I have watched not one but TWO summer blockbusters tailormade to open on July 4th. Films designed to catch the box-office dollar of the long weekend and to capitalize on the surge of patriotism that pretending to blow up our own cities (i.e. fireworks) seems to inspire. Both films follow the same template in many ways, which made me wonder about the structure of the summer blockbuster in the terrorism-focused, post-Iraq-War world. In a simpler time, I remember watching Independence Day and cheering in the air-conditioned theatre without fearing the global warming outside or the propaganda unleashed on the screen. Now I worry as I step outside that summer will never end and that films like The Marine are just recruitment material dressed up as a video game dressed up as a teenage boy empowerment fantasy dressed up as a "movie." How do Live Free or Die Hard and Transfomers compare? Simply put: I'm not sure. The building blocks of this year's summer blockbusters seem to be:

1. Global Hacking of the Communication Infrastructure
2. Disruption of the Transportation Grid
3. Love For and Fear of the Mechanics of Government

(not-so)optional: Heterosexual Young Adult Love. [note: there are spoilers below, if a summer movie is actually capable of being spoiled.] In both films, the enemy (decepticons, an ill-defined french/asian/american coalition of hackers) undermines our communication network and uses that access to attack our heroes (autobots/charmingly dorky teen, bruce willis/charmingly dorky young adult) and deny them communication. In both cases our heroes use a lower tech solution (Morse code, "old military satellite network") to reestablish connections. Die Hard takes this scenario a little farther with the villains using the internet as their method of attack. In both cases we lose our ability to speak without being monitored and our ability to trust what we hear, which seems to reflect the state of communications under the Bush Administration and the Patriot Act. Secondly, both films have scenes involving the destruction of freeways by fighter pilots, as our heroes (both tractor trailers, oddly, although Optimus Prime *is* the tractor trailer while John McClane is merely driving one). Hacked lights and giant robot attacks create massive gridlock. We can no longer count on getting from one place to another as military jets destroy the homeland's infrastructure. It isn't much of a stretch to view this as a comment on how a protracted war abroad is destroying the basics of life here. However, both films have a strong yet conflicted element of patriotism that makes such a facile conclusion difficult. In Transformers, all of the evil Decepticons take the form of military and industrial vehicles and yet the only competent heroes are the marines in Qatar who discover the only way to kill the invading robots with our current technology. In Die Hard, I started to sympathize with the cyber-criminals who are trying to make a point about our nation's technological vulnerabilities and the corruption of our current regime. However, the mastermind is then revealed to actually just be after money, and begins to kill his underlings and innocents left and right. It's perfectly summed up in an exchange between Justin Long (Willis' computer-hacking sidekick) and Willis himself. Justin (paraphrased): I used to think a fire-sale [wholesale takedown of all infrastructure] would be an amazing way to take down the system. Willis: This isn't a system, it's a country, and we need to protect it. I believe the filmmakers were just as conflicted as I am. Maybe it's just the July 4th summer blockbusters talking, but I love this country. We have freedoms other countries ignore. We are a leader in technological development. We have integrated diverse people in a way few other nations have or will. But we also have a corrupt government, a military-industrial complex run amok, and a hegemonic media machine attempting to subvert the whole world to our selfish way of life. The situation is complicated and I believe these films attempted to show that as much as they could without sacrificing box office attendance or risking being called un-American. And if having integrity up until the point it would you hurt fiscally or politically isn't American, than I don't know what is. [MD: I also think there's a lot to say about the absence of other nations' involvement in both films, and the idea of the enemy within vis a vis immigration but those are essays for another time. And don't get me started on the inevitability of the hetero dyad.]

Reviewing the Previews: Scion's Little Deviants

I am often unable to truly enjoy movies because something offends me during the previews and I get distracted writing angry screeds in my head, and before I know it I've almost missed the opening credits (usually the best part of any film). So when HT and I decided to get to Live Free or Die Hard early so we can get a good seat, I know we're in for trouble. HT, meanwhile, is excited to catch "The Twenty." I don't have the heart to tell her that's only in Loews and we're in a Regal. [MD: Research has just proven me wrong, it is in fact only shown in Regals with digital projectors. Also, its proper name is "The 2wenty."] After watching a little animated Lego man run around Mars, we're treated to a commercial featuring animated grey "Sheeple" walking around a depressing urban landscape... suddenly, down from windows, up from the sewers, and out of the alleyways spill these tiny monstrous trolls, "the little deviants." At first, I assume it's an outgrowth of SanDisk's (largely unsuccessful) iSheep campaign, but I realize I'm wrong as a Scion pulls up and the Little Deviants start to tear the Sheeple limb from limb -- one wears a sheeperson as a skinsuit, and another throws a decapitated head on the bright-red Scion AS A HOOD ORNAMENT. Just watch below. I was so horrified and confused I was in a haze until the movie started which, all things considered, was probably for the best. To try your hand at killing Sheeple, please visit The Book of the Deviants from Scion. A car company who cares.

We Trash It Before We Try It: Summer 2007 Edition

This was supposed to be a team post about how we were deeply unenthusiastic about the new Transformers movie: based on the trailers, it looks visually messy (it's a Michael Bay film after all) and more importantly, for a film that's supposed to hearken back to this great animated series and those action figures from our childhood -- there's absolutely nothing iconic about these reimagined Transformers. Nothing. I can't even get excited about new It boy (and the film's 'human' lead) Shia LaBeouf, and he's supposed to be the friggin shiznit. But then we realized that there are so many things we enjoy dissing without even deigning to try the goods beforehand. And that seemed like an infinitely more entertaining post to write. So for you, now -- an ongoing list of that which we cannot be bothered to bother with. * Transformers 2007 * Leggings * Any of the films for which trailers were shown before the July 4th screening of Live Free or Die Hard, minus the one for the full-length Simpsons movie. Also, that Stardust movie (with DeNiro?!!) looks terrible. * the iPhone (md: i can't have it, therefore i refuse to believe it could be good) * Amy Winehouse (ht: you can't make me like her! md: she grows on you!) * The resurgence of 70s hair and 80s fashion (md: tie-dye? seriously, tie-dye?) * Fette Sau * Pinkberry (ht: I'm just bitching about the lines, really. I hate lines. And people. God, I bet Miranda July goes there. It's called Pinkberry.) * Anything going on at the McCarren Pool this summer (cf. Pinkberry. md: except the renegade craft fair, which we arguably did try. ht: and look how well that turned out.) * Men with handkerchiefs around their necks * Feist (md: you can't make me like her! ht: she and i have mutual friends! my loyalties are divided!) * Pirate Master (ht: huh?? people actually auditioned for this?) * artificial scarcity (ht, to md: wait. haven't you tried it? weren't you victim of it recently? md: oh. these are things we HAVEN'T tried. i forgot!) [image via transformers wiki page.]

Tuesday Evening Rhapsodic: Ratatouille

Over dinner the other night I mentioned my desire to see Ratatouille, the new animated film from Pixar and Brad Bird, the genius behind Iron Giant and The Incredibles. I pointed out that A.O Scott had nothing but raves, including the most-likely-oft-quoted "a nearly flawless piece of popular art." My dinner companions bristled at this, noting that: "The last time A.O. Scott waxed rhapsodic we ended up watching Miami Vice. We won't make the same mistake." I ended up seeing Ratatouille anyway, at the Ziegfeld no less!, and I have to say: OH MY WORD. It's a great film, full of hilarious physical comedy and foodie-ready good times. (After I saw the rat-protagonist make an omelet, I nearly fainted -- it was that realistic and gut-growl-inducing.) That's all I have to say. You all should go see it soon. Or invite me to see it with you. Whichever. You''ll love it.

It's Like I'm Getting Taunted by the Quirk

I've recently discovered a whole set of breathing exercises to help me work through varying levels of, and reasons for, anxiety. My coping methods whilst writing the most recent post on quirkiness involved slowing my breathing down considerably, and to just start to feel my heartbeat decelerate accordingly. It was a very calming experience, being able to write about that which I dislike so much while not getting too worked up, physiologically, about it. Sadly, such experiences don't work when one is caught off-guard, as I just was. While getting ready to leave the office, I noticed a NY Times review of some new film entitled Eagle vs Shark. Curious, I clicked on the link to the review. And then the rapid-fire breathing and heartbeats returned like I had never learned a thing. The headline of the review: Quirky Boy Meets Quirky Girl: It's Animal Attraction. You can read the rest of the review yourself. The moment that killed me: "[t]he story ... is a small, intermittently charming, sometimes tiresome celebration of quirkiness, complete with cute animated sequences featuring apples and ants." Jesus. I look forward to all of this imploding very, very soon. My heart can't take this anymore.

The Road to Hell: Waitress

Today PK and I went to Cobble Hill Cinemas to see The Waitress, actor/director Adrienne Shelley's last film before her untimely death at the hands of an irate construction worker. About an hour into the film the dialog is replaced with a repetetive clicking/thumping sound, almost like a heartbeat; as this scene takes place during a sonogram I assume it's an odd but acceptable choice for an odd yet acceptable film. After a few minutes we realize the film is actually broken and then we're refunded our ticket prices and told the movie will not be shown again for the rest of the day. As we leave, PK says to me "That film was oddly reflective of Adrienne Shelley's life." All the things I can think are somewhat unkind: "Cute and precious but not reaching its full potential?" "Unintentionally breaking the fourth wall and playing to the camera?" "Only notable due to the unfortunate nature of her death?" "Why?" I ask. "It was prematurely cut short."

Love Bites!

Yesterday, mercifully, was a half-day at work, which meant that I had a weekday afternoon free to do all the things that one wishes one could do, but can only do on the weekend, when everyone else has the same idea and consequently museums and Coney Island and restaurants all become impossible, crowded places. I had planned to meet up with RL, and had the nice idea of going down to the Storefront for Art and Architecture to see an exhibit of late Soviet-era architecture, as seen through images, films, and so on. I mean, how could you go wrong seeing an exhibit featuring this wondrous monstrosity? I actually wouldn't know how you could go wrong seeing an exhibit featuring that wondrous montrosity, because by the time I got to Union Square, it was nearly 90 degrees, and all RL wanted to do was be indoors, in air-conditioned bliss. So we traipsed from cineplex to cineplex until we decided that Bug would be a really good idea. And so ... yeah. We saw Bug. And you know what? It was pretty friggin' glorious. I haven't laughed that hard while watching a 'psychological' 'thriller' since maybe Anaconda, back in the 90s, with MH and a bottle of Lagavulin. The dialogue in Bug was amazing. RL and I were trying to figure out afterwards how much the writers were in on the joke (if there was indeed a joke to be had), and decided that there's little way one can write or deliver lines like, "You don't know a thing about aphids!" or (my favorite) "I am the super mother bug!" without some pretty potent drugs and a fairly solid understanding of camp. I highly recommend you all check this out, inbetween barbecues, this weekend or any weekend this summer. God, yes. RL pointed out that we were now batting 2-for-2 with the otherwise dreary Village East Cinemas, the saddest excuse for a first-run theatre in the city. Several weeks ago we had wandered in there to see 28 Weeks Later, which also proved to be pretty spectacular -- possibly even better than the original, but that's another post entirely -- and which also seemed to be setting a trope-ic trend: love bites. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone here, but suffice it to say that in both 28 Weeks Later and Bug, the exchange of fluids makes people crazy. Literally crazy. And I'm not talking crazy in love here. These films are making pretty compelling arguments for why we need to stop loving, and also then to stop using sex as the means through which we show that love. Because you screw, you lose. Hell, in 28 Weeks Later, you don't even need to screw. You love, you lose your mind. Completely. I don't want to wax very philosophical, moral, or personal about this, except to say that I recently had brunch at a place not too far from my apartment, Zucco Le French Diner, which despite its huh? sort of name, was a lovely, lovely spot that really delivered the goods. And by goods I mean a great steak and eggs and mashed potatoes dish, as well as a wonderful fois gras, toast, and apple compote starter that maybe kind of blew my post-wine-addled mind. I'm not going to say it was better than sex, but I'd take that over potential insanity any day. Because everyone wins when they're eating fois gras. For brunch. I'll probably head over to the late-Soviet architecture exhibit today, accidental celibacy in tow. Oh, but don't cry for me, relationshipped ones! I'm rather enjoying the return of my sanity.