Run and hide! FANBOYS ATTACK!

Nerds are a hard bunch to please. With the hardcore fanboy and internet forum troll, nothing is either OK or satisfactory: it is either the greatest thing since Star Trek II, or else a childhood-destroying monster that haunts their dreams and caused the deaths of their grandparents.

As everyone knows, virtually every huge blockbuster being released at the moment has its origins in some kind of comic book. Gone are the days when being a 22 year old fanzine collector got you beaten up – even gangster wannabes now proudly sport Superman hats or Marvel hoodies, or Batman belt-buckles so heavy their jeans end up around their ankles. Just looking at the grosses for Spider-Man or The Dark Knight will tell you that nerd culture is now a huge business, and as such movies find themselves pandering to the kind of demographic who are willing to part with £1000 for a life-size stormtrooper outfit from Forbidden Planet.

From an objective point of view, it makes perfect business sense to do this. If you want your movie to make as much money as possible, release some screenshots of The Lizard in The Amazing Spider-Man or leak to AintItCool that Cumberbatch is playing Khan in the nest Star Trek film, and just sit back and watch the internet forums explode with “this is so leet/this is tre suxorz” bitch-slapping. It can only end up well for you: everyone will pay to see the film, just so they can then keep up with the forum comments on it – after all, no self-respecting nerd would be caught dead being behind on the current pop-culture talk.

Many, many people went to see Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon. Many of those many people will have been hugely disappointed by it, but of course that didn’t stop those people from paying to see it in the first place, thereby guaranteeing Michael Bay license to make another car-crash-in-your-head orgy of dull robot violence. And yet, those same people will no doubt do exactly the same again when Transformers 4 comes out, because no-one wants to be the person who hasn’t seen it yet and who can’t join in conversations about it.

Yet now, Dark of the Moon has found itself in the unlucky bracket of nerd-hated movies – the pit of oblivion from which no amount of critical praise or reappraisal can rescue it, following the equally-despised Revenge of the Fallen. When nerds decide they hate a film, no one is going to shout them down, whether they be right or not. Critical consensus or general audience reaction doesn’t matter to these people: what matters is that it wasn’t the film they had in their head, and as such deserved nothing but hatred and mockery. In a way, their loud ranting doesn’t matter: the Star Wars prequels have made a ton of money anyway, who cares if they were no good? But this is ignoring the influence of the nerd voice – its sheer power to eventually define the general opinion of a movie is staggering, and may end up killing your once money-grabbing franchise. I may try to defend Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull or Superman Returns in my ‘Underrated Classics’ posts, but I am under no illusions that I am going to change the fan consensus that these films were bad. Any good reaction or critical plaudits that may have been lent to the films have since disappeared under a mountain of bile and hatred (just look at the Rotten Tomatoes ‘certified fresh rating of 77% for Crystal Skull) which causes even people who liked the films to eventually do so secretly, for fear of being shouted down by loudmouth fanboys who seem unable to comprehend that a person’s reaction to a film may actually be a subjective experience. Numerous franchises have found themselves shackled with the weight of the fanboy reaction, blocking any further attempts at their continuation (Superman and Hulk spring to mind...).

This is a crowd that can never be fully appeased, and as such is not worth worrying about the reaction of. Whether they are determined to hate it or not, a new Superman film will make huge amounts of money simply because nerds love to vent their spleens. In attempting to pander to their wishes by putting Sandman, Venom AND Hobgoblin in one movie, you simply end up ruining a perfectly good franchise, whereas sticking to your guns and following the story-and-character route ends up in The Dark Knight being the third most successful film of all time... 

Underrated classics: INDIANA JONES & THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL!

A new Spielberg film is almost always met with a rapturous critical reception and a huge box-office gross – this is a man who has made one flop in his nearly 40 year career – and 2008’s Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was no exception. If it weren’t for the juggernaut of The Dark Knight it would have been the highest grossing movie of the year, and retains a 77% positive review score on Rotten Tomatoes. Yet ask most people what they thought of Indy 4 and their reaction is generally one of derision or scorn: ‘Indiana Jones shouldn’t have aliens’, ‘Harrison Ford is too old’, ‘ It had too many special effects’, ‘It wasn’t as good as the others’. People have begun to apply the kind of hatred to it that they do to the Star Wars prequels. I am therefore here to defend my hero and this enormously misunderstood film.

Indiana Jones has never been about anything more than entertainment. No films deliver more on that front than the original Indy trilogy, and no one can deny the enormous entertainment factor of Crystal Skull. The opening chase alone rivals Temple of Doom’s for thrills: Area 51, Indy forced to locate a mysterious crate in that warehouse, Irina Spalko’s icy menace and Mac’s treachery, a brilliant truck chase (all done with entirely practical effects, by the way), a rocket sled, AND a nuclear explosion. With Indiana Jones. Entertainment doesn’t get much better.

Yet what Spielberg attempted to do with this instalment was reach out beyond the boundaries of entertaining, to approach Indy as an expression of what concerns him currently, as any great filmmaker does with any great film. Initial concern over Harrison Ford’s ability to play the part at his age was quickly assuaged (he cracks the whip as well as he always did), but he is perhaps slightly more creaky that he once was. Indy isn’t as sharp, he’s more vulnerable, and he questions whether he in fact may be getting too old for this after all. Rather than ignoring Ford’s increased age, and pretending that he is as spry as he was in 1989, Spielberg wisely uses this as the bases for the film itself.

Indy is a ‘40s action hero. He fights Nazi’s and finds religious artefacts. Yet the world moves on, and as many older people including Lucas and Spielberg find, it can be hard to move with it. Indy is now out of his element, in his twilight years and yet still trying to cling to his heyday – witness the Doomtown sequence, the brilliant image of Indy lost and confused in a pristine plastic ‘50s world, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Similarly, the politics of the world move on too. The Nazi’s are no longer the bad guys in the 1950s, for the onset of the Cold War had brought new threats to Western shores: Communism, and the atomic bomb. Fear and irrationality prevailed for decades to come, with people terrified by the threat of invasion and destruction – the McCarthy hearings and the Cuban Missile Crisis were just around the corner. Yet these concerns are unfamiliar to Indy – he was comfortable with the black-and-white of the evil Nazis, and the greatest threat to him yet comes not from evil enemies, but from the twisted politics and suspicion of the Cold War. The scene in which Indy is interrogated by FBI agents following his escape from the bomb, and his subsequent suspension from his teaching job, is an interesting parallel to the explanatory scene from Raiders: “Frankly Dr. Jones we’re suspicious of Professor Ravenwood, being mentioned so prominently in a Nazi cable...” is in that scene quickly quashed by Brody’s simple “Oh Rubbish, Ravenwood’s no Nazi”, and the matter is quickly dismissed. Yet the politics of McCarthy era America cause even the word of an army General to not be enough to sate suspicions of Indy, and this air of suspicion and mystery pervades the entire film.

Even the powers of the Crystal Skull itself are relevant. No longer are Indy’s MacGuffins simply artefacts of great power that can be misused – the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant would be just as desirable to those wanting to misuse their power today – but the Skull’s psychic powers tap into the fears of 1950s society. With technological advances racing out of control, numerous films of the time tapped into this atmosphere: the fluoride and ‘bodily fluids’ of Dr Strangelove and the prevalence of the sci-fi B movie.

This I feel is where people’s dislike for the film largely comes. The style of the original trilogy is very much of the 1940s adventure serial genre, a homage to which Indy was originaly conceived as. Yet the ‘50s cinema was very different – lots of bright colours and shiny surfaces, and most importantly lots of aliens. The B-movie is what we now associate with ‘50s cinema, and by placing Crystal Skull’s plot in this era, the style must change to fit in too. That is exactly why aliens are relevant to Indy, just as relevant as any religious artefact he may rescue is.

The Indiana Jones movies are films about films, about embracing the thrills of the screen and paying dues to those that have come before. Given time, I feel that Crystal Skull shall begin to be accepted as the truly great film that it is, and especially as the truly great Indy film that it is, in much the same way that I feel the Star Wars prequels will be. Those of us who grew up with both the original and new trilogy adore them all, but those older and more jaded viewers refuse to accept any new addition to their cannon. This unwillingness to embrace everything about the new Indy rather than search for what is familiar and declare that the best part (everyone says the motorcycle chase was great, but the flying saucer the worst) is what keeps it a disappointment in many people’s minds. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull embraces its B-movieness, as well as its protagonist’s age and its new settings and themes, and remains much more entertaining than virtually every other film out there. Plus, what’s a good B-movie without a flying saucer?

Underrated classics: THE TERMINAL!

Steven Spielberg is not really a director many would class as underrated, and with good reason. The most successful filmmaker the world has ever known has made some of the greatest films in history, and garnered huge amounts of awards and critical acclaim. Yet his talents in one particular field remain wholly underappreciated: comedy.

This largely stems from the few weak links in Spielberg’s normally stellar back catalogue. His few unsuccessful films, both in terms of gross and acclaim, are undoubtedly 1941, Always, and Hook. Each of these is in some way most overtly comedic (with the possible exception of Always, which is just dull), and yet represent his few failings. Where 1941 excels is in madcap mayhem, the sheer amount of destruction and special effects simply used in silly ways is commendable at the least, but crucially lacks laughs. Similarly, Hook tends to only be funny if you’re the kind of age where paint food fights and repeated use of the word ‘barf’ are considered the height of hilarity.

Yet The Terminal remains one of Spielberg’s overlooked gems. One of his latest films, his development in his handling of comedy has clearly matured over time – this was his first film after the joyous romp of Catch Me If You Can for instance, and retains that sense of innocent humour in the central characters. The plot concerns Tom Hank’s Victor Navorski becoming stranded in New York’s JFK airport following a coup in his fictional Eastern Bloc country while he is in mid-air. Subsequently, he finds himself unable to leave the confines of the International Transit Lounge, and becomes a folk hero to many who pass through its doors while remaining a menace to the director of the airport (Stanley Tucci).

The film could pass as a brilliant piece simply on artistic intent alone. The terminal itself is a perfectly designed encapsulation of capitalism at work, a mass of Burger Kings and Borders and designer clothing stores residing alongside the airport chapel. Victor has to scrounge the money from the airport baggage carts just to be able to afford a burger, and otherwise makes do with a sandwich of complimentary crackers and condiments. He sleeps wherever he can, largely in the as yet unfinished part of the departure lounge, and represents a fantastic metaphor for the plight of immigrant workers in modern day America. Victor is a good man, a skilled worker and a loving individual who refuses to bow to the pressures of authority and beurocracy that trap him there, and ultimately wins over those around him.

Yet for once Spielberg doesn’t forget to have a laugh. Hanks pitches Navorski perfectly, a mix of sympathetic and foolish but always kind-hearted, and with a laughable yet passable accent. Virtually every line is as quotable as the best Spaced episodes, and have the added bonus of being done in a faux-Russian accent (“You want to get eat to bite?”). Similarly the supporting cast not only represent the average working class American or immigrant, as well as the problems that come with those, but remain both hilarious and touching. As Gupta the Indian janitor  spins plates and juggles at inappropriate times, we feel that he is not a comic relief character but rather a fully rounded individual. Indeed, one of the most touching moments of the film occurs when he stops a plane with his mop and declares defiantly “I am going home!” He also hates Tuesdays...

Admittedly the film is not without its weaker moments – it’s slightly too long, and the love story proves more distracting than anything, but even that adds the furthering of the theme of communication and connection in the modern world. The recent George Clooney/Jason Reitman film Up In The Air is essentially The Terminal without the laughs, sharing as it does the same themes and preoccupations but never quite reaching the joyous heights of Spielberg’s underrated masterpiece. Go and seek it out and you will thank me for introducing you to a wonderful comedy by a master of any genre he lays his finger on.

Underrated Classics: APOCALYPTO!

Not being Catholic or a woman, I’m not particularly a Mel Gibson fan. The Lethal Weapons always seemed slightly too dated to be considered amongst the likes of Die Hard, and Braveheart sucks, not to mention the fact that The Passion of the Christ raises far too many issues to cover here, very few of which are good.

It’s comes as something as a surprise then to find myself recommending Mel Gibson’s Apocalypto as an underrated classic. Many of you may not have seen it (I hadn’t until recently), and yet it fully deserves to be among the pantheon of the greatest films of the past few years.

What other recent huge-budget blockbuster has featured babies being thrown against trees, opens with a boar being horribly speared, has a woman giving birth in a pit, and is entirely in a Mayan dialect? This is what makes Apocalypto brilliant – its bravery.

Frankly, it’s a surprise that it got made at all, for it must have had some extremely confident backers and distributers. And thank goodness they were, because the individuality of the film is evident from the outset. The story concerns the last days of the Mayan civilization, an eminently violent and spectacular society whose leaders feel that their decline can be halted by human sacrifice. Jaguar Paw, a young man captured for sacrifices, must escape his fate and rescue his pregnant wife and child before the rains come. Gibson’s artistry is beyond doubt – the richness of the gold-plated Mayan temples and the chaos of the slave marketplace juxtaposed with the simple life of hunting and spirituality of village life. We see simple folk doing simple things – passing on relics to family members, playing jokes on each other, settling down to a quiet night in the huts – which adds a depth of character that films like Gladiator miss. There is a real sense that this is a real world in which people lived, a real society about to come to an end, and one that is brought to life in as authentic a way as possible.

This being a Mel Gibson film, there are huge amounts of uncomfortable violence. The human sacrifices in particular, with live victims having their hearts torn out and their heads chopped off, are for once in a Gibson film completely necessary – this was a violent an primitive society, based around superstition and completion, and such brutality only adds to the sense of wonder in what at times feels almost like a very, very old documentary.

Yet what Gibson manages to achieve so successfully is a real sense of pace and tension lacking from his earlier efforts. The jungle through which Jaguar Paw is hunted is both his home and his worst enemy, switching wildly between the two. Subsequently, we never quite know whether he is in mortal danger or whether it is his pursuers that need to watch out. The film opens at a breakneck pace with a boar hunt through the jungle, a definite signal of things to come. Apocalypto could even be seen as a Mayan version of The Fugitive – excellently cranked tension, complete with waterfall scene, eventually released in satisfyingly brutal fashion. As the Mayan civilization’s doom looms large over the final scene, there is a real sense of tragedy, of a time and a people long forgotten to history, crushed under the weight of Western invading forces, reduced to barely a memory and some crumbling relics.

What Apocalypto achieves so breathtakingly is to remind us of where we came from, of how diverse the human condition has been over the millennia. Within the ancient cultures that we read about there were real human stories of tragedy, love and family, all lost to the mists of time, and yet so akin to ourselves. That this is all achieved in so hugely entertaining and spectacular a fashion by the man who won an Oscar for the film in which he spend most his time with his face painted and flashing his arse is nothing short of mind-blowing.

Foreign Marketing!

Most of you out there in the general reading public will have seen Transformers 3. Most of you would have been horribly disappointed with it, probably knew you would be before you went to see it, and then said “well, it was alright” when talking about it after. This is a common occurrence every summer, when the big tent-pole pictures arrive at the multiplexes, but please don’t misunderstand me – I am most definitely not one of those “Hollywood blockbusters are brainless, worthless nonsense” critics. In fact, I’m proud to call myself something of a Hollywood whore – I would much rather watch Pirates of the Caribbean  than The Seventh Seal, and in future posts I’m sure I will explain just why I feel it holds as much if not more artistic merit than Bergman’s best.

During the same summer blockbuster period, an excellent Danish thriller by the name of Flame & Citroen was around too, but you probably didn’t see it. Not that I blame you – I probably wouldn’t have seen it either if it weren’t for a special screening that I was invited too. I’m not even annoyed that most cinemas don’t show foreign films – they have to make their money somehow.

Yet a lot of you will have seen Pan’s Labyrinth, and possibly other popular foreign film of the past few years, like Let The Right One In or The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It’s not that these films are better than the other foreign cinema output around, it’s just that they were better marketed. How? That’s the issue.

The British general public dislikes foreigners. This may appear to be a crass generalisation, and to be sure there are millions who do not buy into such a profile, but the majority of the British public see anything foreign - be it the EU, the Euro, different customs, languages or cultures - to be, if not something to be wary of, then certainly something they would prefer to avoid. It is a mountain that any internationally released film not in the English language will always have to climb, and is one very rarely conquered. In recent years for example, the most successful foreign films in Britain have been those that attempt to disguise their foreignness: the trailers for Pan’s Labyrinth, The Orphanage or House of Flying Daggers do not contain anyone speaking at all, thereby removing the deterrent of subtitles (another ignorant predisposition of a large proportion of the British public that has to be overcome if a film wants to be seen). The buzz around Let The Right One In for example gave a high British gross for the film, partially due to the critical acclaim it received at festivals, but also because was not marketed as a foreign film, thereby resulting in more casual filmgoers attending.

It works both ways too. A British film that a large percentage of British people would go to see would almost certainly struggle in an international market if it did not sell itself as something far more wide-ranging – just look at how the States responded to The Full Monty or Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Wererabbit. Distributors need to realise this if they want to emulate the success of certain films, and they of course need to tap into the nerd market – get good word of mouth going around a film and thanks to this internet world we live in, it’s guaranteed to at least have a few people seeing it. Which is far more than a subtitled black-and-white film about Slovakian pensioners would have got if it were simply advertised as that.