Nature & Machine Part III
Does “Terminator” mentality spread from individual to society or vice versa, or both? It is easy to blame the movies, but at the time of this post, my country’s representatives have just returned from a climate summit in Qatar in which, yet again, they failed to take vital steps to avert ecological disaster. What kind of outlook can such deliberate denial foster in a people when it imposes a death sentence upon their future? You can’t blame that on the movies.
Does the rest of the world comprehend now how random citizens go on killing sprees in my country? The malfunction of the American dream is not part of some twisted conspiracy, but an unfortunate side effect of toxins churned up by our misuse of machines.
In relation to most of the rest of our breeding, excreting kin on this earthly plane, my country’s an infant that needs its diaper changed. We won’t deal with our excrement so it piles to the ceiling. This lack of hygiene is bound to kill some and spoil things down stream. Toxins, like bad news, beget more of the same. Less than a week after Qatar comes Sandy Hook to heap shame upon shame. Why is it that suburban psychos targeting children and mothers confound us? Was it a wacko’s attempt to spare future refugees from the larger nightmare closing around us?
We overtook this country by force and we’ve been polluting it ever since we moved in. As far back as we are willing to look warnings about the consequence have been pouring in. Back when I first struck out on my own, we were being cautioned about a nasty dragon, somewhere upwind, wielding mechanical limbs beneath human skin. I saw him first on a giant screen at the drive-in. A cold-hearted robot, programmed for obsession, was stalking and slaying with automatic weapons. If you missed that particular sci-fi attraction, just imagine any suburban assassin from last year in action.
The film I was referring to is James Cameron’s “The Terminator”(1984), which features a mechanical hit man dispatched from the future to prevent the birth of a rebel redeemer. It has been said that Cameron took his story from Harlan Ellison, another insightful science fiction dreamer. But their bad guy was clearly nicked from the last book of the Bible in which a dragon threatens the mother of the savior. Both stories’ beasts personify our most toxic behavior.
So, if books of old also illuminate opposing sides of human nature, why blame popular songs, games and movies of the new and future? In the Bible, our internal opposites come to head in bloody war. When the Savior subdues the Beast, it settles the score. Cameron’s tightly plotted Armageddon of ’84 is an American factory assembly line noir, where a robot’s rampage ends with a hydraulic squish under the hand of a mother savior.
But first, the Beast, according to Cameron, arrives disguised as a man. From beside a dumpster, in a garbage truck’s beneficent shade, the monster embarks on its toxic crusade. Any one of the Terminators attempts on Sarah Connor’s life should easily have done her in, but John Connor, her future savior/son, sent to her a brave and horny warrior friend.
Though the Terminator appears to embody the human ideal, what moves him even alien fenders can’t conceal. Once he’s stripped down to the exo-skeletal core, he looks like some ruthless, rolled-Buick man-o-war. But it all comes down to a toxic program. So it is clear. We must extricate the program of the damned, unless we want to live in perpetual fear.
The Terminator’s is the ultimate killing machine. Brute force and hostility are calculated to win everything. It is not another warrior that finally does this Beast in. Mother Sarah pushes a button on a gizmo that caves him in. Let a constructive machine consume its destructive twin.
Part 4, the next in this series delves even deeper into the machinations of man and how they can either halt or hasten humanity’s stand. We’ll crack more clues to the mass executioner’s blues when we next begin. If you haven’t done so already and would like to, read the last book of the Bible, or watch “The Terminator” and “The Matrix,” then check back in.
This is the fourth post, in a series on Man and the Machine. Picking up where we left off last time, James Cameron’s “The Terminator” gives us as a vision of the apocalypse in which the Beast is a mechanical mercenary that glares ravenously at the mother/savior with eyes like hot embers. That is the same sinister shade we saw in the ubiquitous lens of mankind’s future worst friend, discussed in post number two, the mechanical brain HAL from “2001; A Space Odyssey,” and likewise those glowing sockets of the crustacean machine that creeps inside Neo’s gut in “The Matrix” (1999). All eyes blink the color of blood to expose the live operator behind each machine. Who is it? It stands for the corruption inside all human beings when our eyes are closed to the interconnection of all living things.
All four directors assign this color to the enemy’s eye. Why? Firstly, so we see the enemy. Secondly, because that color fills our own eyes when they are closed in strong light. Literally speaking, is this what is meant by the expression, “eyes wide shut”? The pupils are wide open but the lids are tightly closed. Thirdly, and most obvious; while all these mechanical eyes are programmed by humans. Fact is, they happen to belong to three kinds of surveillance outfit.
Surveillance turns out to be a subject so huge it can’t be thoroughly covered in dozens of great movies, therefore we’ll just have to leave it for now with only one of it’s distressing riddles unraveled. In this month’s post, featuring “The Matrix,” the machine has become so insidious as to assimilate human minds and bodies, en masse, recycling, replicating and using our life force for an energy source. This is an apt metaphor for the relationship of the consumer and the multinational brands of today. The hero Neo breaks free with quantum leap, in the end. This is what it takes to restore the machines purpose to the service all humankind.
Surveillance is everywhere in our world now. Toxins are too. We filter them 24/7. Any story of end times identifies the same universal pinch–the sign of the beast, if you will. If you are born in end times, you have to bare some downward pressure. The Beast of the Bible turns out in modern times to be a machine that is broke and malfunctioning. That includes, governments, corporations and motion pictures too, unfortunately. Yes, there is toxic programming out there reddening everyone’s eyes, feeding off problems. Most of us can filter it out, but one in a million it bedevils.
So, might there be some clue here in “The Matrix,” while we sort through our real life predicament? How many of us have bothered to apply the lesson of the hero to our own life–a potentially great story still in the making? I suppose the question remains, what is the lesson of “The Matrix”? My presumption is that Neo finds his highest potential in acting for the common good.
Another person may take away a different lesson from the same movie. For instance, it is through mortal combat that the enemy must be vanquished. This is an example of the garbage I’m talking about. One must filter it out while watching “The Matrix.” Such faulty assumptions characterize the deviants that bring pandemonium into today’s schools, offices and movie complexes.
There is such a thing as mental pollution and that is what our children must be protected from at an early age. Adults are able to filter those toxins but not children. I was kept away from violently gruesome films until after my mid-teens. Maybe that’s why I can keep my peace. Perhaps others can’t because they were exposed too early.
Whether the Wachowski siblings and James Cameron be deemed perpetrators or pacifiers, they are world-class storytellers and they all deliberately identify a strong presence of toxins and surveillance in the opening scenes of “The Terminator” and “The Matrix.” Here are just two examples of foreboding prophecies from the tail end of the last century; three great movie makers speculating, well in advance, on the roots of this weird, explosive variety of psychosis that has blasted itself into our headlines lately almost daily.
Their movies postulate out how toxins mutate humans into killing machines and also how a mind, constantly spied upon, can be driven to desperate means. Alternatives and options to our currently developing quagmire have been put forth by wise folk in our great stories for centuries. Why do we ignore them?
The machinations of movie making and digital entertainment are neither entirely sound or faulty, for the intent of the operator does matter. Filmmakers are hot-blooded operators steering lifeless machines through worlds both real and imagined. Are we making love or war here or what? What is the goal? The defeat of the beast in the apocalypse is a battle that wages in the heart of every human being on the planet, including filmmakers. It is up to each one of us to conquer what enslaves us, from within.
What a fine-tuned machine a camera and a screen can be for shedding light, both literally and figuratively on society. The same apparatus that confronts us with pointless killings in our streets also exposes us to countless examples of heroic feats. The number one challenge for movie makers is to be sure their works enlighten and don’t make us sicker.
Motion pictures on the Internet are our modern scripture–the word made light–the universal library of common sense and culture. All great traditions can be brought forward with this marriage of poetry and science. Let them be celebrated and partaken in by the entire globe.
I am an advocate of cinema’s potential to encourage openness, tolerance, cooperation and goodwill. The digital roads we travel belong to no one in particular. Whoever is on them at any given time could be our audience. We have no idea who we are sharing our story with, but we have to live with them, so why not make friends. If you want to connect with someone that you don’t know, what do you do? Smile, at least. Maybe even shake hands.
Here’s spot five in our series on Man and the Machine that commenced last November. This months post will highlight a motion picture released in 1985 by director Terry Gilliam. “Brazil” is a study of a man ensnared in the machine of bureaucracy.
Gilliam’s screenplay descends from last century storytellers, such as Franz Kafka, and George Orwell whose clairvoyant visions gave us today’s headlines fifty to a hundred years in advance. If we’d subscribe to the viewpoints of those scribes as passionately as we repeat the opinions of our political leaders today, we might still evade their frightening predictions.
The prototype attack drone of James Cameron’s “The Terminator,” which we looked at in post three was, for some reason, assigned the disreputable year 1984 to explode on the scene. This month’s title was released soon after “The Terminator” and features none other than Big Brother himself, from Orwell’s opus, or his next of kin at least, in any case a gargantuan government plays the devil in “Brazil.”
It’s a gnarly web to which Sam Lowry’s futuristic culture clings. Everything and everyone is connected by machine. A totalitarian eye eves drops on a first world countrymen much like my own. “Brazil” bureaucrats are able to obtain any material thing known if they have the money and connections. Those with neither must languish in a jammed socio-economic intersection.
The trappings are all familiar. Grotesquely cheap flats and mini-motorcars are an average carrot for the company man and for the elite there’s garish palaces and cosmetic surgery. However, progress along an orderly line is impossible for average folks in “Brazil.” Like the tubes and cables that twist through their living rooms, everything is overloaded, impounded or outdated. Any citizens’ life can take sudden turns and get spliced or derailed onto a random identity, torn from their homes and bound to the Ministry for rendition. In “Brazil,”lives are snuffed at the drop of a receipt. Thank God it’s only a movie.
The title refers to the song Sam Lowry sings to himself at the movie’s devastating end. An attribute of “Brazil” worth studying is how the movie maker embeds the musical score in the narrative, from the first impression of its title and melody, to the way it accentuates the irony of its disturbing finale. Title and the theme song are like magnets that lock together at the last possible moment of the movie after having drawn the audience between them.
“Brazil” is hailed universally for its hyper-imaginative portrayal of life in a gridlocked bureaucracy. It is also frequently dissed as one of the most bleak and cynical journeys in motion picture history. Even though this movie is futuristic, “Brazil” gazes back over its shoulder at a previous critique of totalitarianism, “The Conformist,” by Bernardo Bertolucci, another chapter from our past exposing how human beings can be chewed up in bureaucracy.
The design of the government buildings are closely related. Those clean, high contrast, echo prone interiors in either movie could share the same physical address. Not only that, notice how the sky and clouds on the wallpaper of the conformist’s bedroom, in the closing minutes of Bertolucci’s film, turn up as the virtual background for Sam Lowry’s eagle-like alter-ego in the opening scene of Gilliam’s tale. The major turning point in both films clicks when the protagonist chooses narcissism over heroism, trading freedom for slavery.
I’ll take this opportunity to point out how obviously “Brazil” furnished a model for the art design of “The Matrix,” too, that great sci-fi watershed from the very end of the last century mentioned in my last post. All three film’s designers owe a debt to Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis,”(1927) another controversial flick about man and the machine that has been repeatedly subjected to the scalpel, resulting in at least five different edited versions as well. I will comment on that film in greater length at a later date.
Concerning “Brazil,” let’s briefly delve in to Terry Gilliam’s choice of christening with the name Brazil the utopian destination in Sam Lowry’s imaginary escapes. Since there are so many tropical locales to choose from that evoke the exotic and the pristine, why did the filmmaker choose those hemispheres? Thinking of Gilliam’s orientation as a comic, I’d have to ask myself–with what conspicuous grotesqueness does the factual country of Brazil contrast with the unsettling, familiar looking dystopia where Sam and Harry exist?
Modern Brazil is an enormous land. Its not just driblets of paradise like Tahiti or Santorini. Brazil dominates its corner of the globe and is home to the Amazon, cradle of the most biologically diverse wilderness left on earth. Brazil literally gives us the air we breathe. From a prophetic standpoint, it stands to reason the region might become number one among humankind’s last hopes for survival.
So let’s just assume that where Sam lives in the future is the opposite of what Brazil represents now. The symbolism suggests we still have a place to retreat to, or someone does. What matters to you and me is the same thing it comes down to for Sam and Harry in their world. Bottom line, we all want to live in a place free of slavery and terrorism. Sam tries for it with his fantasies of Brazil. Meanwhile Harry Tuttle’s busy solving practical problems right where he is. No wonder “Brazil” ends in tragedy for Sam.
Continued to next month…
A continuation of last month’s post on Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil,” which is also part six of a continuing series on man and the machine. The fate of Harry Tuttle was left quite a bit more ambiguous than the protagonist Sam Lowry’s in “Brazil”.
In perhaps the most magical turning point in the story Harry Tuttle disappears in a whirlwind of red tape, receipts, vouchers and invoices that cling to his body, mummifying him, until the torrent of rubbish seems to swallow him. This all occurs within the protagonist’s nightmare. Sam struggles desperately to dig Harry out but the clutter blows away and takes with it any chance for glory, depositing Sam on the far side of madness at the end of the story.
It is significant that we never see anything bad happen to Harry Tuttle. He is never apprehended. Visually speaking it could be said Harry escapes unharmed. Most likely, as with another famous escapologist, Harry Houdini, Tuttle was named so to evoke such comparisons. I’d love to watch this film in a crowded stadium and lead a Q & A afterword to hear how many different opinions I could collect by asking “what happened to Harry Tuttle?”
I’ve finished watching this film now for the third time in six months and rewinding over selected parts a fourth and finally found a crack to get me out of everyman Sam Lowry’s dead end track. I should mention that there are five differently edited versions of Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil” out there in movie land. That’s how wildly people disagree over it, so if you enter the conversation, make sure you have watched the same one. I’ve been watching 142 minute edition released by The Criterion Collection in 2006.
Comedy or not, the idea that the only possible escape from slavery for Sam is psychosis is so distressing that I had to find an alternative solution for his predicament. Although this solution exposes a path Sam did not choose, it provides sanity to anyone who does. The fact that Sam did not choose this path is precisely why the movie had to end the way it did.
While Sam knew something was very wrong with the culture that supported him, but he never showed an interested in contributing to or improving it. He did his job and looked the other way. We sympathize with him. Everything in his life is a hassle. Sam simply takes the hassle of least resistance, but he does that instead of coming up with solutions like Harry does.
Sam was not interested in getting out of his situation except in dreams and even that was a selfish scheme. When the woman of his fantasies walks right out of them into real life and she turns out to be a free thinker, Sam never asks her why. He makes no connection when she asks, “Have you ever really seen a terrorist?”
The real hero of “Brazil,” Harry Tuttle demonstrates how helping fellow human beings is the only way out. In Sam’s final flip-out, Harry liberates Sam by helping him blow up the Ministry, but that all takes place in Sam’s head. This component of Sam’s fantasy serves to underscore Sam’s bureaucratic programming. The company man was never able to shake off the Ministry’s allegation that Harry was out for blood instead of good.
Other than Sam’s visually projected assumptions of Harry’s motives, all we know for sure from what we actually see is that Harry’s a multi-talented repairman on the run. Sure he’s packing a gun; he’s accused by the Ministry of terrorism, but we only ever witness Harry fixing folks’ utilities, which are constantly choked up and pinched in gridlocracy.
Whenever we see Harry, he’s engaging his gifts for the greater good. The unlikely superhero declares his intent loud and clear, “we’re all in this together.” Harry Tuttle is the only free man we see in “Brazil”. Anytime after Sam met Harry his fate could have been redeemed too, but freedom goes unclaimed. Gilliam’s lovable protagonist just wants to slip his chains in dreams. Instead, he is crucified while Harry avoids the scene.
This month’s film is the third out of the nine films discussed in this series that happens to have been released in exactly five different editions. You’ll recall, this was also true of last month’s movie “Brazil.” The other film that shares this distinction is the ancestor of them all, Fritz Lange’s “Metropolis” (1927).
Why so many versions? Did the previous cuts ring too false or too true? Is a motion picture as mutable as a melody on which infinite variations can be tried? Or is everything in the man made universe going to be treated like an App, from now on, subjected to continual revision? This question becomes a theme in Ridley Scott’s “Blade Runner” (1982).
One marvelous function of art is its ability to employ ambiguity to trigger controversy and stimulate vital discourse. The multiple editions of these movies represent an extravagant debate. Motion pictures take months to edit and finish. Likewise, they are extremely cumbersome, time consuming and expensive to pull apart and put back together. What’s at stake must be very important to go to all that trouble. For a movie to have been subjected to so much surgery means that it struck a cultural nerve. The filmmaker is to be applauded. Stories, and particularly science fiction stories are probes into our future. They lead us into deeper, more meaningful examinations of the consequences of our past actions and our role in shaping the future.
I have not read the novel by Philip K. Dick that was the starting point for the “Blade Runner” script. Thematically, it’s easy to take it for a premonition about class warfare. With dialog like, “if you aint cop your just little people,” this director is as keen on the subject as Terry Gilliam was in “Brazil,” where we watched the stuggle of a man against the bureaucratic machine. In “Blade Runner” the machines revolt against man. Can they really do that? Have they accomplished it already? This puzzle pops up consistently throughout all nine motion pictures reviewed in this series so far.
The way into that conundrum in “Blade Runner” is to depict the machine as man’s jealous twin. You can replace Deckard vs. Replicant with Democrat vs. Republican or Cain vs. Able. It’s all the same story. We’re talking about different sides of human nature that are polarized from the start, but from that schism springs the interracial love story in Mr. Scott’s riddle’s heart.
“West Side Story” was good with that subject too. Of equal interest to me is how this runner suggests that sooner or later our physical bodies will become technologically enhanced to the point we can live on indefinitely. It won’t be long and our original DNA will become something indistinguishable from manufactured robes and rods of miraculous stem-cell fiber grafted into our mainframe and programmed to prolong our feast here.
My grandmother, who died decades ago, wore the first generation of life extension technology under her skin. She would have probably been tossed in the bone heap in her thirties, like her own mom, were it not for all the fancy hardware she’d had hot-wired in. She had a mechanical fingers, wrist, hips and knees. Medical mechanics kept her mobile, in the 1960s and 70s, by replacing malformed bones and gristle, with plates, screws, hinges and pins. You could see the zippers all over her skin where they went in.
After a continuous string of more than thirty major operations, a sizable sum of her was man made. Count me as one who regarded that kind of technology as a godsend.
Consider all the scientific leaps that have taken place since then and take them to their logical conclusion. Somebody’s bound to aim for technologically assisted immortality. If such a thing’s possible, aren’t we bound to try and produce it artificially? How soon before we all essentially become Replicants and who will decide how long we live?
As we drop down to examine Blade Runner’s finely honed edge, the first thing we notice is the look of the future world Rick Deckard lives in. Almost every filmmaker in this series seems to have incorporated some of Fritz Lange’s visual design in “Metropolis” into their own futuristic landscape. If you haven’t already watched the documentary “Voyage to Metropolis” inside “The Complete Metropolis” edition from Kino International. There you will be treated to comparisons of sets in “Metropolis” and “Blade Runner” side-by-side for your convenience.
While we’re scanning the scenery in “Blade Runner,” notice what is still circulating in popular culture after thirty years. How accurate was “Blade Runner” in predicting our present? In a hyper-vertical city center, a geisha girl can be seen on a digital billboard popping a pill and smiling serenely. So, the target demographic is Asian, the population is on mood drugs, which are advertised in the mass media. Check. Mass communication is accomplished on massive screens, check. Petroleum is being refined big time, check. Budweiser and Cuisinart show up on signs, check. Hari Krishnas still chant their lines. Also Hilton and Bulova have traversed the times. Check, check. Not bad, but we did underachieve in a major line of innovation that this storyteller predicted. Transport on Deckard’s beat has lifted off the ground. In this reality, the information highway has made the hovercraft less of a priority. Deckard’s riding a highway in the sky but take away that and he looks like he’s stuck in Shanghai.
Now let us commence, as “Blade Runner” does, by discovering what a replicant is. According to the interrogator, across the desk from the first replicant we ever meet, a turtle and a tortoise are the “same thing”. “Blade Runner” unfolds by asking, what if the difference between machines and humans was no greater than that between turtle and tortoise? The tortoise is a perfect metaphor for a replicant, by the way, because a replicant is simply a shell inside of which resides human nature.
The interrogator scrutinizes the reaction of the replicant after telling him a tortoise is lying helpless on its back. The replicant in “Blade Runner” identifies with the helpless creature because he’s in a similar pinch. The manufacturers feared that the longer the replicants lived, the more attached to being alive they’d become, so replicants are programmed to shut down after four years.
If they live long enough, they develop emotions like hate, anger, fear and envy and then they can’t coexist peacefully with humans. This reasoning is presented as common sense to us the audience. Let’s zoom in on that assumption. The thing we are afraid of in “Blade Runner” is a machine that expresses hate, anger, fear and envy. What? You mean like guns? Nobody questions such a machine’s obsolescence when it’s called a replicant. Deckard is our hero. Everyone in the audience is cheering for him–even die-hard gun owners. Everyone in the audience knows that machines are very dangerous when they are used for hate, anger, fear, etc. Those machines he’s chasing down and eliminating are very scary and ought not to be allowed to run loose in our society. One could argue that Deckard needs a gun to do his job, but that’s not a pistol in his belt. Deckard’s weapon is for retiring dangerous machines.
As with automobiles, new editions of brand name replicant designs are constantly being rolled out and old ones need to be retired. Sean Young plays Rachel, the replicant calendar babe, a gleaming piece of R&D that would scoop any man’s fantasy for kink on the techie frontier. She’s convinced she’s human. Tycoon genius Eldon Tyrell says he’s giving Rachel memories that will expand her ability to handle emotions more comfortably.
The identity crisis of Rachel’s character after Deckard reveals her true nature to her would be hard to imagine in real life. It would be like any one of us being told at age 21 that we were fake. The predicament is not unlike the unfortunate Harry Buttle’s, in act one of “Brazil”, who has another person’s identity accidentally grafted on to his and his life slides downhill. There’s no way to imagine the shock when your memories suddenly supply zero context for your life, but they’re still there and they never go away. What would that feel like to find out your entire past is nothing but an App and not only that, so is your response to it? This is the twisty, mind-bendy spell of Ridley Scott’s epic cop flick.
