America’s Sweethearts
by Don Jaucian
The Avengers (2012)
D: Joss Whedon
S: Robert Downey Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, Scarlett Johansson, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Jeremy Renner, Tom Hiddleston
Thematically, The Avengers offers nothing new. Its plot is the basic hero assembly: the world is in peril and a ragtag bunch of “remarkable people” (or, to borrow from another superhero movie, “an island of misfit toys”) is called in to save or avenge what’s left of it. Factor in the American Savior complex, represented by its trademark ideations of freedom and power through Captain America (Chris Evans), Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) and Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), and The Avengers swirls into a perfect recipe for blockbuster success, one that subscribes to kumbaya hand-holding as images go by, resembling tragedies and events that have ignited a stronger nationalist spirit.
Americana, of course, has always been hardwired into comic book lore. Superheroes are thick with the atmosphere of war: soldiers and ordinary citizens gifted with every power imaginable, crushing foes that are ingrained with Soviet and Nazi propaganda even though they are from the outer reaches of space. These citizens are symbols of patriotism that kids and adults can look up to, even serving as recruitment strategies that could wield generations of men and women aspiring for greatness. It’s this stuff of comic book legacy that propels The Avengers into soaring heights (pun not intended).
Nitpick all you want, but the Avengers is a distinctly American creation that has largely assimilated into the world’s cultural pantheon. The hard swinging personalities of Tony Stark (Downey), Steve Rogers (Evans), Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo), and Thor (Chris Hemsworth), arguably the film’s main superheroes, have been familiar with audiences since their creation, and there is only so much you can do with their respective character developments. Director Joss Whedon fleshes out their strengths and gnawing flaws. He creates a pool rife with internal conflicts that doesn’t necessarily overly humanize these characters. After all, their main appeal is their superhuman abilities.
Whedon pokes fun at their old-age brands (like Captain America’s costume or Hulk’s “Smash”) while enjoying the self-referential jokes and one-liners. Whedon knows how to pay tribute to these characters without being too overbearing or catapulting them up into shinier pedestals. He even throws in easter eggs (“This feels just like Budapest all over again”) that should please his fellow fanboys.
What he mines, though, is how a blockbuster flick should work. Getting this ensemble on screen is no mean feat. It is a road riddled with holes and land mines but, as a long stretch in the movie illustrated, this is all about setting aside egos and inching ways out of a hysterically chaotic muddle. A band of outsiders like the Avengers looks good on the battlefield, but assembling a coherent storyline out of some of the comic book canon’s most recognizable characters can go a bit awry. The film takes time in spotlighting each of them, pitting them against each other as if the pre-climax sequence is one long training seminar and anger management class.
With all these massive egos running around, it’s surprising that it’s Loki (Tom Hiddleston) who takes center stage. Hiddleston swaggers with glorious villainy, even if his intention to rule the human race seems as puny and childish as it did in Thor. He gets the best lines, tossing out complex sentences and jabbering at every weak link that he could find just to get what he wants. He is a brat after all.
S.H.I.E.L.D’s floating fortress may look a bit too much like the Enterprise (complete with the slick blue uniforms, swirling seats, and Sun Oracle computers), and the climactic battle sequence may share the same destruction values like Transformers: Dark of the Moon and Battle: Los Angeles. But The Avengers is smart enough to stay out of the Michael Bay School of Filmmaking. There are no signs of military might here, no protruding boners for tanks and other phallic weapons. There are the occasional strays, but Whedon knows that the firepower of this spectacle relies on the heroes themselves. And for fun, he dunks in the Chiatauri skeletal force that could have been the cousins of H. R. Giger’s aliens.
The Avengers doesn’t feel 143 minutes long. It whizzes so fast it’s tempting to watch it three times more. It’s a blockbuster that’s poised for longevity, something that successfully fuses reverential humor and supersized entertainment into a skillfully crafted freak show. Whedon’s foray into a big-budget playground is a lavish and carefully thought out production that is respective of both its niche without alienating greater audiences. It’s one thing to create a cult classic like Fireflyˆ but it’s another thing to create something like The Avengers,which should set the tone and treatment of every superhero film to come, whether standalone or ensemble.
Run RiRi Run
by Jansen Musico
Battleship (2012)
D: Peter Berg
S: Taylor Kitsch, Brooklyn Decker, Rihanna, Liam Neeson
Peter Berg’s Battleship, based on the Hasbro game of the same name, is nothing worthy of admiration. But this is a given, since all Hasbro-based films of late (G.I. Joe, Transformers) have been programmed to administer gross amounts of spectacle minus the substance. People who go to see Hasbro films are there to be entertained and not educated. It is for the same reason I’m judging Battleship solely on its entertainment value.
The story isn’t exactly new. It begins with a laborious introduction to brothers Alex and Stone Hopper (Taylor Kitsch and Alexander Skarsgard). Alex is a sleazy bum with untapped tactical warfare genius, while Stone is a respected navy officer moonlighting as his nanny. After a dizzying turn of events involving a scantily clad girl at a bar and a microwaveable chicken burrito, Alex finds himself serving at sea with his brother. During one of their military exercises, five alien ships land on Earth with the sole purpose of world domination.
If you’ve ever played a game of Battleship, you’d know that there’s nothing more to it than attempting to sink all of your opponent’s five ships. So how does one fill in two hours of screen time using that without boring the audience? The answer: Rihanna.
We all know she’s no pushover. That’s what being Chris Brown’s ex-punching bag does to your reputation. But as Raikes, the officer in charge of the ship’s big guns, she gets to show off a bit of her tenacity. How often do we get to hear RiRi say “Mahalo, motherfucker!” with so much swagger? Despite her menial acting skills, every moment with her on screen is precious. In one scene, she’s subtly sampling one of her songs; in another, she’s blowing stuff up while leaving us profound one-liners like “Boom!” The girl also flaunts her physique, with a good portion of the film devoted to her running… and running… and running. RiRi does a lot of it while squinting, launching missiles, and dodging aliens along the way.
Taylor Kitsch also does his fair share of action. Although he makes up for his dismal acting in John Carter, he still gets handed the short end of the stick in Battleship. Sadly, the writers didn’t give him a character with a solid back story to work with. There isn’t much depth and growth in Alex to make people latch on to him. Thankfully, we have RiRi and other colorful supporting characters to cover that.
Although Battleship is no different from its Hasbro-inspired brothers in plot depth, it does provide a few very amusing surprises that set it apart. To reveal them here would rob the film of its amusing saving graces. Of course, there’s also its visual effects, alien crafts, and character designs that make Battleship a watchable popcorn flick.
The Hunger Games and the Politics of the Popular
Artwork by Rob Cham
Essay by Jansen Musico
Stephenie Meyer, a mother of three, became a bestselling author in a span of less than two years. She had Twilight to thank, a romance novel set in a world of vampires and werewolves. To several literary critics and bloggers, the books were perplexing. Despite the poor writing and the worn-out tropes it employed, the four-piece novel went on to skyrocket into the homes of millions of teenagers all over the world. Its success spawned a five-part blockbuster that rallied fans onto the streets, forcing them to queue for midnight screenings. For years, people have been baffled by Meyer’s impressive feat. She definitely did not have the depth of a Tolkien or the imagination of a Rowling. What she had, though, were the odds, and they were very much in her favor.
The key to making it big in the world of young adult fiction is no secret at all. Among all demographics, the youth is the most malleable and also one of the most powerful in terms of purchasing power. Attractive marketing ploys tickling the youth’s likes and fancies are enough to start a bandwagon effect continuously fueled by flashy ads, word of mouth, and peer pressure. Once that group is held captive, it won’t matter whether the story is actually good. What matters is how opportunists are going to cash in on the fad.
Enter Suzanne Collins’s The Hunger Games trilogy, a series of young adult novels that polarized its readers once its three titles started catching fire. Some had panned it for being a ripoff of Koushun Takami’s Battle Royale, but that certainly didn’t stop Lionsgate from purchasing the rights to bring the novels to the big screen. Given the series’ popularity among its teenage demographic, it’s not surprising that it has become the third highest grossing Hollywood film on its opening weekend, just a bit shy of Harry Potter’s final installment and The Dark Knight. What’s unforeseen was how well the adaptation turned out.
The Plot
For the uninitiated, The Hunger Games is the first film in the four-part series. The movie’s plot is summarized by my Pelikula colleague Carina:
The story occurs in Panem, the post-apocalyptic incarnation of America. After the rebellion of the 13 Districts of Panem against their government, the Capitol has decreed a “treaty of peace,” ordering the remaining 12 Districts to offer up Tributes, a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18, to fight to the death in the middle of an arena. These games are televised, much like today’s reality shows, and are played up. People are horrifyingly eating it all up, placing bets on the Tributes, picking the strongest contenders to sponsor. The Games are intended to be a reminder of the Capitol’s power over its people, but is paraded as a display of honor, courage, and sacrifice.
Reading this, avid supporters of Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale adaptation shook their heads in disbelief. Some even went to the extent of calling Collins’s work as the Twilight version of the Japanese cult classic. Truthfully, I was one of them, but seeing the film had changed my mind. Though the similarities are undeniable, I would not rule out the slim possibility that Collins had never seen or heard of the Battle Royale franchise while she was in the process of writing her manuscript. Collins explains the roots of the novel in her interview with her publisher.
I was flipping through images of reality television, where there were these young people competing for a million dollars, and I was seeing footage from the Iraq war, and these two things began to fuse together in a very unsettling way.
This inspiration of hers is justified in the film when parallels of war and the fictional games begin to surface. Aside from the obvious—kids being sent out into bloodbath as if military troops deployed for combat—the beauty of The Hunger Games lies in the subtle yet biting commentary it has about the means to justify war. In the movie, President Snow poses a question to the Hunger Games director Seneca Crane. He asks him if he’s ever visited any of the poor districts before describing their abject poverty in great detail.
Snow tells Seneca in a matter-of-fact tone that though the districts were hopeless, they needed them, for no matter how poor they were they were rich in resources. This calls to mind the long-debated issue of America’s noble battles in the Middle East as cover ups for their conquest for oil.
Violence and Voyeurism
The Roman gladiator games were said to have inspired the structure of Collins’s fictional games. She pointed out three vital elements she borrowed:
These three elements are present in both The Hunger Games and Battle Royale, hence it is easy to see why people call Collins a copycat. Nevertheless, she succeeded, much like Fukasaku, to transform the ancient Roman event into a modern-day spectacle. What better way to do it than through a reality show?
The popularity of reality television is undeniable, though the cause of it is still being debated due to the variations of the genre. Audiences tune in to these programs for several reasons; perhaps they find one character endearing or the dynamics between characters exciting. The bottom line is that no matter what their motivation is, audiences are still drawn in. They become voyeurs peeking into the lives of others, giving them a sense of intimacy with the characters they watch. The stronger the audience’s interaction with the characters in the show, the more invested they are.
As a fictional reality show, Battle Royale is superior in some aspects. For starters, the game play is explained better, with the battlefield’s topography, rules, and weapons thoroughly fleshed out. The violence is also greater, with the bloodshed made more intense by the fact that the relationships among the students are given much weight. The audience forms such an affinity with the kids and their friends that it becomes more gripping to see them turn on each other. This makes for richer storytelling. What the Battle Royale movie lacks, though, is a provision to sustain interest for its sequel. The movie puts too much focus on the activity inside the playing field that it glosses over the politics outside of it.
The Hunger Games is very aware of the political web it spins. It does not restrict its focus on the game masters and the players; it also features the dynamic relationship between the tributes and their sponsors. It becomes a political game where the tributes vie for viewer’s favors in order to win. Like politicians, the tributes are taught to put their best foot forward. In the film, Haymitch, District 12’s mentor, stresses this point. He reminds them that politics has more weight than brute force. The filmmakers are keen to point this out to the movie’s audience as well. Instead of merely quenching the moviegoers’ thirst for fake blood and gore, they highlight the political aspects controlling the game, within the game, and affecting the Panem population witnessing the game unfold.
Wooing the Crowd
Aside from survival techniques, Haymitch teaches Katniss and Peeta how to win over the crowd and reap the advantages of being popular. Cinna, the stylist, creates a stunning façade to make them more appealing and memorable to their sponsors. Katniss, though strong-willed and rough around the edges, has to portray herself as a prim and proper heroine with finesse. Luckily for Katniss—not to mention Jennifer Lawrence who plays the character—she has enough natural charm to make it work.
Peeta doesn’t have to do much to aid his political game. His spoken feelings for Katniss are enough to woo the crowd. Young love, according to Haymitch, is something people would root for. But love on a reality television show isn’t that easy to sell. There has to be a back story, chemistry, and believability to it. If the contestants do not have these, then it’s the job of the Hunger Games’ producers to make it happen.
Established reality show director J. Rupert Thompson put it this way:
Certainly, reality TV is a very manipulated format where the basis of it is that real people are put into unreal situations to create a story.
Although Katniss and Peeta are fighting for their lives, they are still part of a reality show, and their tale is being shaped by the game director Seneca Crane. Peeta already provided an angle; all he needs to do is develop it. Many fans of the book have lambasted the film for its downplayed portrayal of Peeta and the bland chemistry he shares with Katniss. But what if these were deliberate? What if the filmmakers only want to zoom in on the strategic plays Katniss is making instead of creating romance? It could be likely. Romance sells, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that the filmmakers are selling a love story to us. Though in the meta world within the film, that’s exactly what’s happening. Seneca Crane is selling a romance to distract the viewers from pondering rebellion.
Apparently, this created mush is believable enough in Panem. The sponsors from Capitol certainly find the small screen sweethearts amusing, because they keep sending them aid. It’s a power play in motion that involves the viewers of the show. This added interactivity, absent in Battle Royale, creates a bridge between the realm of the reality show and the audience’s world. Although the Hunger Games movie does scrimp on the gore and replaces it with fabricated teen romance, it ties the story within the arena to the larger story arc outside, setting up a sturdy platform for its sequels.
A Clash of Cultures
The visual themes of The Hunger Games are interesting. Put into good use, they give the audience a vivid idea of the social stratification within the Panem society, as well as their disparity in lifestyle and culture. In the film, Panem is divided into several districts, which are ranked according to importance. The poorest districts are occupied by blue-collar workers. District 12, the least fortunate one, is depicted as a region hit by a great depression. It is almost as if the people and houses were yanked from the photographs of Roger Ballen or Arthur Rothstein. On the opposite side of the spectrum is the Capitol, which can be described best as an extension of a Lady Gaga video. Its androgynous citizens, wrapped in haute couture, look like moving magazine editorials.
Fashion is symbolic, much more so in The Hunger Games. Not only does it differentiate the districts from one another, it is also used to denote power. The chariot scene is a good example. At the front of the pack, the first two districts are dressed up like celebrity dolls and Roman gods. The succeeding chariots showcase less appealing garbs as their chariots come to view. District 12 stands out, only because they take a page from the fashion books of the Capitol. Their skintight black suits, outrageous hair and makeup, and the fake flames, put them on a par with the elite. They do this in order to gain their favor.
Perhaps the most important piece of fashion in the film is also one of the most subtle. The Mockingjay pin, a symbol of luck at the beginning, becomes the ultimate symbol of power at the end. Pinned on Katniss during the awarding ceremony, it represents the power shift from the Capitol to the people. It becomes a popular symbol of a future rebellion, one that could put a stop to the games for good.
To many, The Hunger Games is just another populist fad; perhaps it really is. But once you take the film and wipe off all the gloss and glimmer, you get to see the work of Suzanne Collins. She was able to come up with a politically charged opinion piece in the form of teen fiction. Whether this was intentional or not does not matter. What matters is that a film like The Hunger Games exists and that it tries to awaken a demographic that is usually apathetic to the things going on outside their own little arenas. It opens up young adults to broader political concepts they often brush off. The true test, though, is if they’re keen enough to pick up the message. It would be unfortunate if, like the fans at Capitol, they let it just fly over their heads for the sole sake of being entertained.
May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favor
by Issa Perez de Tagle
The Hunger Games (2012)
D: Gary Ross
S: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Liam Hemsworth
In a year not too far into the future, America has been engulfed in the fire of human destruction, and out of its ashes, the dystopian society of Panem has arisen. Here, the elite live in the Capitol in blissful detachment at the expense of the commoners who break their backs to provide for them in separate districts. As a constant reminder of the power and dominion of the Capitol, a male and female child are annually selected from each district and pitted against one another in a televised battle to the death until only one survives.
The subject matter seems a bit graphic for something geared towards young adults, but author Suzanne Collins has tapped into something that everyone can relate to. In her work, she satirizes our generation’s fascination with so-called reality television and our blind contentment with a status quo that benefits a few while the rest suffer. In every page of her book she seems to ask us when we all became so jaded to the plights of the world. The question now is whether or not this film, as an adaptation of that novel, carries across the same message.
I would say, to some extent, it does. All the basic plot points of the story are represented on screen, which should please any fan. The set and costume designs were a creative mix of inspiration ranging from the Industrial Era to a Lady Gaga music video. Gary Ross also used some ingenious methods of telling certain back stories he couldn’t give much screen time to. I particularly appreciated how he hinted at what happened to Katniss’s father by timing it when Katniss was in a delusional state. However, from here on out, it’s pretty much hit and miss.
Take the casting for instance. A lot of them were spot on: Elizabeth Banks as Effie Trinket, Stanley Tucci as Caesar Flickerman, and Willow Shields as Primrose Everdeen. A select few were pleasant surprises, including Lenny Kravitz as Cinna and Jennifer Lawrence herself as Katniss Everdeen. Lawrence in particular far surpassed any of my expectations and eradicated any of my previous doubts of her capability to portray Katniss faithfully. She was strong yet vulnerable, quiet yet calculating, and fierce yet compassionate. It really is amazing to watch how she handles herself onscreen. She is certainly cementing herself as a Hollywood A-lister. However, her leading men leave quite a lot to be desired.
It seems like whatever it was they did in their auditions to impress their filmmakers will forever be a mystery, because not an inkling of it was shown in the movie. Josh Hutcherson is mildly charming but altogether seems too young for Lawrence’s Katniss. Their chemistry is almost nonexistent, and any romantic interaction they have onscreen looks almost incestuous. Liam Hemsworth as Gale fares no better. I would say he does even poorer. He fails to embody Gale’s inner fire, his eyes blank and his demeanor almost cowardly. Whenever the camera comes in for a close-up of him, he just ends up looking vacantly stupid.
At least that’s when the camera manages to find its focus because there was a terrible amount of “shaky camera” effect going on in this movie. I’m sure the purpose was to mimic how some reality shows are shot today and give the film a kind of indie feel to it but it came off as forced and sometimes confusing. All in all, it just took away from the gravity of certain vital events in the story.
It didn’t help that there was a marked lack in violence shown onscreen. But this is somewhat forgivable since this would deny most of the target audience the chance to actually watch the film. (All the same, I do secretly hope they release a less watered down version of the action sequences in a DVD cut.) After all, this is supposed to be a story that goes beyond the carnage.
You see this in perhaps the most poignant scene of the movie wherein Katniss salutes the district of a fallen comrade, causing them to band together against the Capitol. It’s just a shame that scenes like that were so few and far between. By focusing too much on bombarding our senses with rich visuals and heart-pounding action, the filmmakers underdeveloped their key characters and seemed to have forgotten that the strength of its source material was in the fact that it was so rich in social commentary and exposition on human nature under adversity.
If only there was a little more self-awareness on the part of the tributes or a more adequate display of the desperation of the district people, there would be more depth to their situation and maybe this would also help fill in the gaps in the actual narrative .
So, while The Hunger Games is infinitely smarter than any teen-novel-turned-movie, it fails to be something more than just another entertaining summer blockbuster. It’s a good film. Sadly, it could’ve been a great film. I just hope that since Lionsgate is obviously completing the franchise, the succeeding films don’t get lost in the fight and miss their purpose for taking arms.
The Prairie Fire That Wanders About
by Don Jaucian
Meek’s Cutoff (2011)
D: Kelly Reichardt
S: Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood, Shirley Henderson, Paul Dano, Will Patton
The wilderness can be a comforting place, its eerie silence presenting a strange calm that promises a future of beginnings. Rolling winds gather clouds, taking away the wanderers out into an open field where the horizon is the only rope that guides. But its vast emptiness has borne cautionary tales from the ancient times where inhuman entities and deities have made it a battle ground for men, an arena where endurance, faith, and beliefs are challenged, something that even the Son of God himself has suffered.
James Tissot’s ‘Jesus Tempted in the Wilderness’
Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness has stood as proof of his incorruptibility. Faced with hunger, powerlessness, and other demonic ministrations, Jesus withstood the Devil’s attempt to break his spirit and hand himself over into worldly desires. Often earmarked as a show of his divinity and high wisdom, the varying accounts of this temptation makes for an interesting standpoint between the Old and the New Testaments of the Bible, something that Kelly Richardt’s Meek’s Cutoff searingly handles with such grace and subtlety.
By all means, Meek’s Cutoff can stand for any representation of a challenged leadership. Here is a ragtag bunch of men and women, parched, desperately scouring the Oregon desert for any sign of the end of their ordeal. As their supposedly two-day trek stretches into a harrowing journey, tension mounts as the water and supplies dwindle. The settlers suspect that their guide, Stephen Meek, isn’t exactly what he is supposed to be. Branded as the devil, the men initially decide to hang him if they still find themselves lost after a few days. But when they catch a Native American along their route, roles become reversed and their fate becomes more uncertain as ever.
The Indian may be their only hope of at least getting water. But Meek’s assumptions of the Native American’s true nature (who doesn’t speak a bit of English) plants a deadly seed in the minds of most of the settlers. Talk of bloodshed and skin-ripping only instills more fear and paranoia to the group, but Emily (Michelle Williams) believes that the Indian doesn’t mean any harm. She feeds him with whatever they may spare and attempts to decode his gestures and mumbling, which the others interpret as a form of signal for the rest of his tribe to come and attack them.
As a character reads verses from the Old Testament in various points of the film, Meek’s Cutoff can also be interpreted as a lost chapter of the Fall of Man. But this connection is never explicitly dealt. Meek is a figurehead of any religion, a prophet at least, luring believers into the unknown only to watch them crumble as they encounter more tribulations along the way. Reichardt fleshes off Meek as a shady character whose intentions remain questionable until the very end. He is as clueless and tired as anyone else, but his position doesn’t afford him to be crippled like the rest of them.
Meek’s Cutoff doesn’t offer any resolutions or clear-cut definitions. Everything seems as elusive as the promised land that they have been pursuing. But its this vagueness that propels the film as it goes along in a plot furthered by nothingness. A questionable messiah is better than an absent one. Because after all, it’s this persistence of being that gives meaning to our lives, no matter how pointless it may seem.