What I Would Do with Terminator 5 (or part of it)

by Joe

I'm going to start this by saying that I haven't put a ton of thought into this, so opposed to a fully formed narrative for the entirety of Terminator 5, this is my opinion how to better utilize Arnold Schwarzenegger and why rebooting the franchise is a poor choice.

Why is a reboot a bad idea?

Mostly because they have Schwarzenegger signed on. It doesn't make a lot of sense to redo something if you have your main character from the first three movies. It'd be like rebooting Indiana Jones and asking the audience to forget that Harrison Ford already did this once (or four times). On top of having Schwarzenegger, we can all agree that he isn't in the peak physical form that he was when he immortalized the character of the T-800 in 1984.

Now he is just kind of flabby. 

It's not as bad as Jack Nicholson. 

But it's pretty bad, and I'm getting sick of watching movies where the special effects teams have started using CGI to add muscles and clean up aging skin. 

Though, before I get into how I would use Arnie, let me explain the core difference in what I would do, opposed to a reboot.

So far, we've seen the human's playing defense throughout four movies. The machines are always unstoppable and the humans have to cower, run, hide, and only fight back when it is absolutely necessary. This formula works, especially when it comes to killer robots. Humans do not match up on a physical level so we're forced into using our surroundings and quick strategies to defeat the machines. Unfortunately, after four movies this starts to get tiresome. I think the fifth movie, or the second installment in the second trilogy (starring Christian Bale, of course. I think he doesn't get the credit he deserves for being John Connor, but I will also admit he was a little too shouty in Salvation), should start shifting the shape of the conflict from defense to offense. We get a little bit of the offense in Salvation, but not nearly enough. Overall, the fight scenes are heavily outweighed with defense. But this also is the perfect setup for the gradual shift the second movie would take, taking into account the final siege of Salvation took place with the humans attacking.

They could even call this one something like Terminator: Onslaught, or Terminator: Firefight (those are both terrible, I know, but you get what I'm saying). The whole idea of the movie is to stop trying to fly under the radar and actually pursue Skynet wholeheartedly. The main objective in the movie would be to break into the bigger Skynet HQ, looking for a more plausible weakness. 

Thus, the whole movie is built on planning the break in to Skynet. We won't see machines for the most part, especially not any humanoid ones. In it's essence, it would be a heist movie. Imagine a gritty, action oriented Ocean's movie. Shit, go ahead and hire Soderbergh to direct the thing. 

How cool would that be?

The whole movie builds towards this attack on Skynet. Once they manage to get into the HQ they move through the base and find an elevator shaft that travels deep into the ground. They have a feeling that what they're looking for will be buried on one of the low floors. They get off on the lowest floor the shaft will take them and then find stairs. They go even further down and that's when they start smelling the stench. They follow the smell and come onto a long string of prison cells. There are starving humans along with the corpses that have started to turn rotten. John Connor's team will start knocking down doors to release the prisoners, but that's when they see a heavy steel door at the end of the corridor. They move towards it, and in this moment time seems to slow to a crawl. The door is locked, but they know it isn't for their safety, but rather the machines. They try shooting through, but the door is reinforced. 

They have to resort to plastic explosives. After much effort, they get the door to drop, and when they get in the small solitary cell Connor's blood chills. Curled in the corner, on the verge of death, is Schwarzenegger. He is a shell of a man and any form of contact with any sort of intelligence puts him far on edge. He cowers away, but with some gentle coaxing they get him into the larger corridor. This is when we find out that the machines had used Schwarzenegger as the model for their T-800. They abducted him when he was in his peak physical shape. They probed and studied him to learn not only what would be the perfect disguise and adversary for humans, but also the major weaknesses of humans in tip-top shape. 

This would be another human element to the Terminator character, but also show us the terrifying reality that lays in the A.I. for Skynet. With this, you get a Terminator sequel that will continue the story, you get Schwarzenegger not embarrassing himself (like in T3: Rise of the Machines), and you add layers to the Terminator mythology. We're firing on all wins. 

I'm kind of behind on this one, but my phone's always on.

What do you guys think?

'Frozen' Holds Women Back

NOTE: I liked Frozen. I lost a bet with Ethan and had to write this essay because I'm making him write one that proves the opposite. (Also: Maureen might have helped a little.)

Classic Disney stories are told from the perspective of weak women in need of freedom. The only way for these women to obtain their desired freedom usually comes from the love and power of a man. We can see this in Cinderella and her futile attempts at getting away from her step-mother. The prince is needed in taking her out of her poverty and pain. The Little Mermaid wants so much to be a human, just so she can live a life with a mortal man. And Sleeping Beauty! The crème de la crème of the Disney princesses, a woman in a sleeping trance in need of a man's kiss to wake her up. Opposed to running contrary to this trope—like some supporters tend to spout—Frozen buys into the formula and we're stuck with another installment in a string of movies that fight against the strong and independent woman, thus furthering the unwanted oppression.

Take, for example, how these women consistently fall in love immediately. Sleeping Beauty meets cute with her prince over a date-rapey dance number, for crying out loud. Their “love” is all based on physical appearances. Cinderella is basically helpless until she is rescued, but is she pursued for what she can offer on an intellectual or emotional level? Of course not. She's hot, and therefore worthy of man's salvation. Ariel sacrifices her body, family, voice, and independence in order to conform to a stranger's (but she loves him!) assumed physical ideal.

At its outset, Frozen appears to be bucking the cripplingly patriarchal ideals classic Disney touted. When the sheltered Anna wants to marry the first man she sees and it is based completely on the outward appearance, she gets called out on it, first by her sister Elsa and then by Kristoff. The prince is handsome and charming, therefore he belongs with a beautiful princess. (And make no mistake, though Anna hits all the classic dorky-girl movie moments: bed head! Burp jokes! Clumsiness! she is in every way clearly a man's representation of female physical perfection.) This action plants Anna directly into the original princesses' mindsets.

Both Elsa and Kristoff call bullshit on the whole sentiment. “You can't marry a man you just met,” Elsa cautions, and she has a point. And when Hans' laughably overwrought treachery is finally revealed, it validates her point. However, it should be noted that Anna only comes to this realization after a long and arduous journey through the snow-bound tundra to find her sister. A journey she embarks on wearing...a ballgown. A journey that would have almost certainly ended in death by exposure had she not been rescued by...a man. (By the way, for a movie ostensibly about the validation of independent women, it sure doesn't feature a lot of them. Two female characters, Disney. Solid.) And this man, who semi-for-the-sake-of-the-narrative-begrudgingly befriends her, ends up being the real romantic interest. So ladies, get it straight: marrying the first man you meet? Silly! Tromping off into the unfamiliar wilderness alone with the second? Perfectly fine, provided you're cute and he has an anthropomorphic reindeer.

You could also say that this situation shouldn't count against the movie considering the relationship forged with Kristoff wasn't based on physicality, but rather an emotional bond they built throughout those two days, but to that I say you will always have a strong connection to someone who helps you through an emotionally strenuous situation. That's not love, that's Stockholm Syndrome. (Looking at you, Belle.) However, there is a much bigger issue the movie took in all this love business.

Essentially, Disney is trying to use Prince Hans as a way to call attention to the outdated trope, and then prove how clever and self-aware they are by side-stepping it. The problem is they still side-step into the very trope they attempt to avoid by bringing a romantic relationship into the movie at the end. Sure, it wasn't the kiss that broke the spell, but all that moment of sisterly love did was reveal that they still loved one another even after years of solitude. Which, honestly, isn't a super healthy attitude to begin with. There is as much potential emotional damage to be done by leaping into a relationship with an estranged family member as there is with a romantic partner. And ultimately, it is made clear that the Anna's future happiness is going to stem from her relationship with Kristoff. It's a cop-out on Disney's part: they made a statement about independence, self-actualization, and the cathartic power of fixing a fractured relationship, and then slapped a sparkly question mark at the end of it. Frozen had to end with Anna and Kristoff, because at the end of the day, a single princess just weirds everyone the fuck out, and Disney couldn't risk it.

In addition, by bringing the trope to the viewer's forefront with making such a big deal out of how clever and witty the writers were, it is breaking the fourth wall. When you break the fourth wall you wan to rely heavily on a social commentary (usually, though not necessarily, about how the populace ingests entertainment). Frozen does not have this commentary, so in breaking the fourth wall they are merely self-congratulating themselves from something they never actually accomplished. This makes the masturbatory exercise even more embarrassing from an outside perspective.

Don't try to be clever because that boat has sailed. Pixar has already elevated the quality of storytelling at Disney, so make a good movie instead of taking huge steps backwards in trying to salvage an outdated formula. 

Robocop from the Past, or RoboCop of our Future?

Very quickly: on our podcast, Extremist Movie Debate (you can also find us on iTunes and Stitcher Radio), Ethan and I have started doing side bets. I lost this last week (we bet on the number of character's Aronofsky was going to track from behind; Ethan said two, I said four--there were three [though it occurred four times]) and my punishment was to write a three page persuasive essay on why the new RoboCop is better than the original, even though it was rated PG-13. 

by Joe

What makes a man? This is the central question in both versions of RoboCop (1987, dir. Paul Verhoeven; 2014, dir. Jose Padilha). Both movies feature the leading character of Murphy, an honest cop who after nearly being killed has his head—and thus consciousness—transferred into a robotic body, preserving his mind. The '87 version shows us a man turned machine, satirizing the violence that was prevalent in the news. The '14 film takes a more sincere standpoint, showing us the downfalls of drone warfare and the loss of morality when the human element is taken out of our protection. While the former uses violence within the confines of the technique it chose to examine, the latter is exploring a different side of the “What is Man” question, and the themes do not necessitate the ultra-violence needed for the Verhoeven film.

In December of 1984, Bernhard Goetz felt threatened on a New York subway so he fired his pistol five times, seriously wounding four men. The late—and great—Roger Ebert points out that the original Robocop had a “pointed social satire, too, as the robocop takes on some of the attributes and some of the popular following of a Bernhard Goetz.” Since a key element of satire is exaggeration Verhoeven needed to exacerbate the violence to match, or even supersede the violence that took place in the subway. He is ultimately asking the viewer to contemplate whether there is a line that can be crossed when it comes to anti-crime. Where does the law end, and a different form of crime start? The ultra-violence he proceeds to exhibit through the course of the motion picture shows us that there is a line that can be crossed, especially in the cases of fear. If we live in a fear culture, the chances of unneeded violence raises. According to OxfordJournals.org, “Those persons with guns in the home were at greater risk than those without guns in the home of dying from a homicide in the home.” The thesis of the movie shows us what could potentially happen if we let men like Goetz get away with the violence he perpetuated upon four young men because he let fear rule his life (he was found not guilty by a jury of his peers. The one charge he was convicted of was carrying an unlicensed firearm). If we reduce ourselves to fear defense—making it as easy as pulling a trigger—we lower our senses to a primitive and robotic viewpoint. In effect, we lose the humanistic quality of empathy and choice in the tough situations. Verhoeven, through the 1987 version of Robocop, asks us if that still makes a man.

Officer Lewis is the detective who has slowly realized the new robocop is actually her old partner. She then spends her time trying to uncover what actually happened to Murphy. 

This is important because it illustrates Murphy's own inability to uncover his past consciousness. He is so far out of touch—too far into the fear culture resulting from a pointed threat on his life—that he has lost sight of who he was as a man. All he knows at that point is the violence he feels necessary to obtain and stabilize safety. An outside viewer is needed, showing the importance of the group mentality, opposed to an individual taking the law into his own hands.

The 2014 update trades the human-numbing fear for the absence of man within drone fighters. This film moves away from satire and uses the basic Robocop story to juxtapose drones and humans by combining the two in one cop. Murphy is aware of his past and who he is as soon as he wakes up as the robocop. There is no mystery about what happened to him. The question of the film is instead how much can we drug someone before they lose all aspects of being a human. How numb can we make Murphy before we lose sight of who he was to begin with. When it comes to people's lives there should be quizzical human nature to think through the situations. We can see this when it takes the entirety of the movie, and possible murder, for everyone to realize just how evil Raymond Sellers really is. We need to question so we can reinforce, opposed to simply taking orders. By dropping his dopamine levels, they're essentially building a human drone. While the original film had a bleak outlook on humanity, the updated version shows the lengths the human mind is capable of going to right a wrong, shown to us when Murphy fixes his own dopamine levels and solves his own murder case. The film wants us to believe that hope, desire, and determination do matter, and have real power.

Then, we have Dr. Norton, a man with an internal struggle regarding what he had previously thought as a black and white subject matter: is there any room for profit in the scope of altruism? In the beginning he used his selfless skills building robotic limbs for wounded soldiers. At the end, he has reverted to using his knowledge to build the super-soldier, robocop. The movie answers the altruism question in the negative, based on how someone along the line used the benevolent intentions for selfish gain. Though, the fact that the movie was able to raise the stakes enough for Dr. Norton to second-guess his convictions.

The themes present in the '14 version rely heavily on the psychology of man, opposed to the actions of man, and because we are more focused on the inner workings of the mind the degree of violence that is seen in the original film would feel out of place in the new version. Opposed to adding to the elements of satire being presented, it would be violence for violence's sake, and that gratuitous and unnecessary amount of gore would take away from the multi-layered story we are instead presented with.

The main reason the updated version is a superior film is because it takes a wider look at the world around us. It is not just focused on American politics when it comes to crime, like the first film, but rather it is taking the consciousness on why humanistic qualities are needed in warfare situations and blows it up to a global level. While the premise may be a little silly, it is giving its situations the weight they deserve. The absence of violence is a breath of fresh air because now the film is accessible to a wider array of people. Young people are impressionable and if we can get in there and show them the true traits of a man, and how mercy, consideration, and empathy matter in our world then we're doing everyone a service. The '87 film was concerned about revealing the past, while the '14 version is more concerned about building up a better future.

Ebert, Roger. “Robocop.” RogerEbert.com. July 7 1987. Web. Mar. 31 2014. 

2014 Top Ten

10) American Hustle

It's well written, well acted, and darkly hilarious. David O. Russell just keeps getting better and better, and American Hustle proves it. He started out great, and continues putting out solid movies. While I'm not sure if this will still be on anyone's mind in a year, I think it was definitely one of the highlights of this year.

9) Elysium 

Matt Damon has badass tattoos and nothing to lose? Boom, done, I'm in. This movie is another sci-fi romp from Neill Blomkamp (District 9). it has similar themes to his first movie (haves vs have-nots; alienation), but I felt like Elysium was more streamlined and accessible. It did have its problems (Jodie Foster's weird Battlefield Earth accent; the final fight scene with too many dutch angles), but it was a great commentary dressed up as a summer blockbuster.

8) Upstream Color

From the man that brought us Primer comes an even more confusing movie. Primer was hard to follow, but at least you were able to buckle down and follow the story from point A to B to C. Upstream Color, on the other hand, takes hours of silence and undivided focus to dissect it, coming to a mere theory on what the fucking thing was about. But it's fun! When a movie occupies my mind for days, all in an attempt to unlock the secrets (because I know Shane Carruth could tell me exactly what it's about), I will put that on my top ten.

7) 12 Years a Slave

This was the most important movie of the year. It takes a horrifying moment in American history and hangs it on the wall for all of us to take a look. While this movie is visually stunning and beautiful, Steve McQueen did not make 12 Years a Slave for entertainment. He wanted us all to know how terrible slavery was (and it was so so so much worse that what we could ever see on a screen), and take some of that education with us going forward in life. Movies can be an active way to build empathy, and this movie is a good example. 

6) Before Midnight

It's taken nearly twenty years, but Richard Linklater, Ethan Hawke, and Julie Delpy have completed their “Before” trilogy. I rewatched Before Sunrise and Before Sunset before I went to Before Midnight, and on the surface you could say these two movies are dated. Rather than this being a negative, I look at it as the movies fully encapsulating the time they were made. They are little nuggets that represent the period they were made. This makes me so curious and excited to come back to Before Midnight in twenty years. On top of that, these movies are built on philosophical conversations. Each movie embodies this aspect, but they are coming from the differing perspectives of age. In the first movie they were in their twenties, then thirties in the second, and now forties in the final chapter. We're able to now weigh each discussion against another, seeing how much people will change throughout the course of their lives. I can confidently say that this is the perfect trilogy.

5) Drinking Buddies

When I first finished Joe Swanberg's movie I didn't foresee myself including it on my list. But it stuck with me for a couple of days. The movie is built on infidelity from the perspective of physical cheating (as small as a kiss) to the emotional cheating. The movie and its situations are all so downplayed and matter-of-fact that it made the whole thing ring so true. I loved the relationships and the reactions the characters had with one another because they had such an authenticity to them. In a cinematic atmosphere where every movie feels like it needs to make everything so BIG, it is refreshing to get a small movie that will make me reexamine my perspective on life.

4) About Time

Richard Curtis is the master of the romantic comedy. I would like to say though, About Time isn't just a boy meets girl story. I think the deeper (and more interesting) story is a father-son relationship. My love for this movie might have something to do with the fact that I just recently had a son, thus making me look into the relationship I have with my own father. In the end, this movie had me on the verge of tears numerous times. Was this an effect of my life, or the movie? I don't know, but it was enough for me to add this touching, sweet, and often funny movie to my top ten.

3) The World's End

Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, and Nick Frost bring their Cornetto trilogy to an end. In the same fashion as Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz they've created a comedy that gets funnier with each viewing. This time its a homage to science fiction with a body snatcher based plot. They have a star team with the help from Paddy Considine, Martin Freeman, and Eddie Marsan alongside Pegg and Frost. Enjoy this booze-filled comedy with a heart.

2) Her

I get excited every time Spike Jonze makes a movie, but this was the first time he took sole writing credit. I was curious, and a little skeptical, but I can now confidently say this is Jonze's finest work. The way he is able to weave everyday talk with philosophical musings, all within the premise of a man falling in love with his OS is enviable. Joaquin Phoenix deserves the Oscar above the other amazing performances this year. I came close to crying so many times I lost count. In the end my heart hurt so good. So, so good. 

1) The Place Beyond the Pines

Derek Cianfrance has create a depressing masterpiece. This movie stuck with me for days, whether I was ruminating on character relations, or just thinking of an interaction, it was stuck in my brain. I liked that he didn't intersect the three stories, but rather each section as a short film. Ryan Gosling struggles with what it means to be a father for forty minutes, and then we see Bradley Cooper wrestle with the same conflicts and interests. At the end of the movie we're left to find the parallels and connections ourselves, instead of the movie doing it for us. They've put all the ingredients into a slow cooker and let it seep outward into our minds. The more you think about this flick the more you'll love and appreciate what they've done with it.

You can read my full review here.

What's your top ten? 

Writing Documentaries

Is it just me that thinks it's weird when a documentary has writing credits? They're stories built on interviews and facts. What is a screenwriter going to be doing here? Flesh the story out? If that was the case then the documentary at its core would be diluted and lose credibility (considering people were to find out. Here's looking to you James Frey!).

Now, at this point I have to look at nonfiction as a literary category. Look at journalism, for example. The majority of articles written for a paper are built in the same way that a filmmaker would make a documentary. They conduct interviews to get closer to the truth through different perspectives. They take the time to think about how all the pieces fit together and at the end the reader is given a fully formed story. And under the title we'll see "written by." Somebody took the time to compile of the documentation and molded into a ingestable story. They deserve the credit for sifting and writing the story.

If a journalist deserves the credit then why wouldn't a documentary deserve a writer? The director of the film would be the issue. If a documentary has a writer, then where does the director fit in? The man behind the camera is the one spending the time sifting through the information to make a solid story. The writer makes me think there is an amount of deceit involved in the film when I see that credit.

I'm not a documentary filmmaker, so I would like to know if I'm completely off on this? Is there a bigger job that I'm not seeing here? Let me know!

Does James Franco Hate Me?

Does James Franco hate me? Like, has he come to this blog and read of the entries? Did he get so offended by my fake article about him curing AIDS that he decided the only way to get all the aggression out was to make a Bukowski movie? I mean, we already have a great documentary exploring Bukowski's life, so what's the point, really? Did he read my bit about he should keep his ignorant, grubby hands off As I Lay Dying and realize he'd be really good at adapting Cormac McCarthy's Child of God? Was "Don't make this movie," translated to, "Hey, make this this other movie because you're SSSOOOOO GGRREEEEAAATTT!" I mean, I think it's pretty clear why I hate him. 

But why does he hate me so much?

On top of that, I thought he was pretty good in This is the End. Why can't he throw me a bone, and maybe, you know, stick to what he's good at and not fuck up the books I like. Why can't he just enjoy books for being books and movies for being movies. 

He acts like he's this high minded literary scholar, but then decides to take these pieces of writing that are--for the most part--unfilmable and tries to film them. Franco thinks so highly of himself that he believes he's doing the whole world a favor. 

I'd also like to point our that Franco went to school for Creative Writing (in one of the problems he's been through). So why doesn't he try to create something, opposed to shitting all over Faulkner and Bukowski? Just a thought.

Does he know who I am? And, again, why does he hate me so much?

Best Death Scenes

A well executed death scene can pack the final emotional punch for a movie. It can legitimize an ending and bring the audience to tears. It can bring a cheer from the crowd when the we see the antagonist finally gets their long-awaited end. Or it can open the window for a lot of ridicule and embarrassment due to poor direction, writing, or acting. While it may not ruin the movie as a whole, it will stick out as a negative dip in an otherwise good movie. 

Here are my favorites. 

WARNING: SPOILERS COMING AT YOU

It would be easy to pick Obi-Wan Kenobi. His death in Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope has a lot going for it. It is sacrificial, for one. He looks over at Luke, and knows that for Skywalker to start the journey to being a Jedi he needs to die. And since it happens in the first movie when the audience doesn't have a lot of information, the death is shrouded in mystery. Why did Kenobi deactivate his saber and let Vader strike him down? And why did he disappear? The enigmatic elements behind the death is also the downfall for why I didn't pick this as my favorite death. While we know Ben Kenobi is a benevolent character, we don't really get to grow attached to him. He's there as a mentor, and then he's gone. He had a high stature, and because of that the death means something, but we're not emotionally attached enough to know how much it means. 

When I said Saving Private Ryan Emily countered with, "That whole movie is a death scene." I can't really disagree, but the scene I have in mind involves the medic, Wade. They are moving across an open field to take down a few Germans. We run through the smoke--a close third perspective from Upham--ducking down because of the gunfire. The German soldiers are overtaken, but that's when we hear people calling for a medic. We run to the cries, seeing our medic, Wade, laying flat on his back trying to direct his fellow soldiers in helping him with his wounds. They tear his shirt open and there are numerous bullet holes, all seeping dark crimson. The men pour water on his torso and wipe the blood away, but the holes keep producing more and more blood. They just won't stop. There is even a moment when all the men put their hands on the gaping wounds, trying to stop the bleeding with pressure, but it's not enough. They guide his hand to one bullet hole and when he feels his liver he knows there is no hope. This scene shows how underrated Giovanni Ribisi is. When he asks for more morphine--enough to overdose on, we can be happy as an audience because he's not going to be in pain anymore, but he was the moral character. In many respects Wade was their compass. But now, they're on their own. This death is handled so well, but it is not my #1 pick. Partly because every death in Saving Private Ryan is packed full of emotional turmoil and Wade's is one of the first. The story doesn't hinge on him, so while it lets the audience connect with the movie on a deeper level, it doesn't let us have that overlying epiphany I'm looking for. 

My pick for the best death scene is Stephen Bloom from The Brothers Bloom. Stephen spends the entire movie claiming he's trying to help his younger brother obtain the life he wants. It's all for Bloom, but we continually suspect Stephen only uses his brother because Bloom holds the skill sets that are needed to complete the cons. He never seems selfless; instead every action Stephen takes is for his own personal gain, even if he is saying otherwise. There is a scene early in the movie when they talk about the fake blood staying the vibrant red even after it has dried on their clothes. At the end of the movie the brothers are involved in a shootout with their arch nemesis Diamond Dog's henchmen. Bloom scares the men away and runs up to his brother. There is a vivid red seeping into his white dress shirt. Stephen laughs, and tells Bloom that it's all part of the con. He tell his young brother to grab the girl and get going, he'd catch up. Bloom asks about the blood and we hear the echo of fake blood. He hugs his brother like he's never hugged him before. The reign of the brothers bloom was going to continue on. We cut to Bloom waking up in the car, his cuff hanging in front of his face. The blood has dried to an ugly brown. The car is pulled over and Bloom stumbles into a field, tears streaming down his face. The movie cuts back to Stephen sitting down on a chair, looking up at the spotlights, allowing life to leave his body. All Bloom wanted was to live an unscripted life, and with Stephen's death the wish is granted. It was the first time we were able to see Stephen act in a selfless manner for his brother. 

And I cry every time. 

So there are mine. What are yours?