Zombies are the 99%

It wouldn’t be October without watching the quintessential horror film - George Romero’s 1968 classic, Night of the Living Dead. Viewing it once per year gives you just enough time to really appreciate its impact. To this day, it’s difficult to watch another scary movie without recognizing something stolen from Romero. This movie is also noteworthy for breaking another batch of new ground, intentionally or not.

It’s difficult to track down the exact reason for Romero’s casting of Duane Jones as the protagonist of Night of the Living Dead. Even George Romero’s explanation has varied over the years. Whether the reaction was intended or not, an African-American film lead in the late-60s was certainly noteworthy. But more than that, a casting choice gave the story layers. Instead of a tale of mere survival, the element of race turned it into a story about the dark side of humanity. Zombies make some great social metaphors.

 

It sure was nice when horror movies meant something.

This year, I watched Night of the Living Dead directly after finishing another classic zombie flick, 1932’s White Zombie. George Romero is credited with creating the “modern” zombie movie, and watching the two in such rapid succession only cemented that reputation. The two are quite different in almost every regard, even where the zombies are concerned.

The “traditional”, pre-Romero zombie seen in White Zombie is less about the brain-eating and more about voodoo. These kinds of zombies were living but brain-dead, poor black men forced to work for greedy, white, sugar plantation owners. Supposedly based on fact, these zombies still make for some terrific social commentary (not that it ever came up in those old films).

Since the voodoo era, zombies have represented racists, consumers, the military, and, most frequently, nothing at all. As a whole, the horror genre has become flat. The best we can hope for is a self-parody like Scream or Cabin in the Woods. Horror movies are simply too timid to stand for anything important anymore. It’s easy to startle teenagers with a PG-13 remake, but why not try for something more?

In a time when the country is percolating from social unease and class conflict, why not bring back the voodoo-slave zombie? It couldn’t be too hard to adapt an idea like that for modern Occupy Wall Street sensibilities.

Yet Another Way to Die

I don’t know about you, but I’m very excited for Skyfall. For the longest time, it looked as if the twenty-third (!) James Bond film simply wouldn’t happen. MGM was floundering in financial problems and 2008’s Quantum of Solace didn’t exactly set the world on fire. Many even blamed the previous film’s lackluster reception for the repeated rumors of the entire franchise being scuttled. I, on the other hand, have been a Quantum of Solace enthusiast since it debuted.

I grew up watching reruns of Roger Moore’s campy entries in the Bond catalogue, but I never actually loved the character until Daniel Craig took over with Casino Royale in 2006. With Craig, Bond has become a brawler, an angry, single-minded man who would Juggernaut his way through a wall just to get to his target. He even seems a little uncomfortable in the signature tuxedo. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s an assassin, not a socialite.

Casino Royale had a much tougher edge than the previous films, but what drew me in was the focus on Bond’s psyche. Unlike other attempts, we really got a view into what made him tick. And that movie did nothing but put him through the ringer. When the end credits rolled, Craig’s character was undoubtedly more damaged than before. He had a lot of things to work out.

And that’s what made Quantum of Solace so necessary. For as long as that first film was, and it was pretty damn long, it did nothing but ask more questions. Bond needed an emotional resolution, and the plot needed wrapping up just the same. Watching them back-to-back makes the symbiosis all the more apparent. Quantum of Solace is less a sequel and more of a third act. As cool as Casino Royale is, you have to admit it barely works as a standalone film in.

Quantum of Solace is needed, but hardly perfect. Many of the complaints about it are perfectly justified. It is quite short and over-saturated with action scenes, probably just to oppose its predecessor’s tendency to drag. I enjoyed Marc Forster’s direction, but the editors seemed to attack the rapid-fire action sequences with a machete; it’s depressingly easy to lose track of what you’re even looking at. And as many people complained about Chris Cornell’s “You Know My Name”, Jack White and Alicia Keys’ “Another Way to Die” is a fine song but, in my opinion, the worst Bond theme in recent memory. It’s almost as if the two didn’t realize what they were writing the song for.

(There were several rejected theme ideas submitted for this movie. I’ve attached the video of my favorite runner-up at the bottom of this post. Please note how much better it fits the tone and material, as well as incorporating some of the most beautiful dialogue from Casino Royale into the lyrics.)

There have also been complaints about the film’s villain. Mathieu Amalric’s character, Dominic Greene, is one of the most bland and least intimidating bad guys in the series’ history but really, who cares? Le Chiffre was hardly a bad-ass, either. These past two movies have all been about Bond and his emotional arc, which was perfectly captured by Daniel Craig’s nuanced acting. Craig is the real anchor of this new franchise, keeping our attention when the story crawls and the editing gets exasperating. The actual plots come second, and that’s what makes this new era of 007 so exciting: a character-driven action-spy franchise. My god, I hope they can keep it up.

Which brings us back to Skyfall. The past two films have told one story, which was pretty great, but now we have something like another fresh start. The Vesper baggage has been dealt with and we get to see what that experience has shaped Bond into. I’m tempted to say this next chapter is just as necessary as the last, but that’s just because I’m hooked.

http://youtu.be/zg2dXY9TOKA

Another Variation on a Theme

Just to be clear, I would never kidnap a child. Not even a little. Unthinkable. Holds no interest for me.

 

It does, however, surprise me when I consider just how easy that sort of thing would be. I’ve been to plenty shopping centers and train stations at this point in my life, and those stops aren’t complete without spotting at least one chubby little toddler waddling about while, twenty feet away, their parents are having an argument or, I don’t know, playing Tetris on their phones or something. It’s like they’re hoping some American weirdo will grab the kid and run off. Well, not this American weirdo. That’s your anchor, thank you very much. Just accept it and let it drag you under.

In the Czech Republic especially, child abandonment seems to be the national pastime. I’m woken every morning from screams coming through my window. As far as I can tell, each morning some mother in the building locks her child outside for a few hours, and the child stands at the door screeching “Mama” on endless repeat, with almost no variance in intonation. Like a record is skipping or something. And so, every morning, I stumble to the window and shout, “Shut the hell up.” It doesn’t, and I balm my self-esteem by reminding myself the kid probably doesn’t understand English anyways.

Of course, I’d much rather be shouting at the parents. It doesn’t literally take a village to raise a child, you know. The sidewalk out back isn’t a babysitter and, if anything, you’re only teaching your kid to scream louder. So I grumble and shut my windows, not that it helps much. And when I climb back in bed, too angry to fall asleep, I can’t help but think, “Man, I wish someone would kidnap that one…”

Far Too Many Words About Robocop

So, they’re going to remake Robocop. I think I’m finally coming to terms with that.

Oh, the rumors have been around for years now, but the production never advanced further than the occasional teaser poster as it was passed from director to director. It sounds like it’s finally progressed past that. Actors have been cast. Marketing rights are firming up. It’s really going to happen.

In case you’ve never been around me when I’m drunk, let me explain just how awesome Robocop is. Released in 1987, Robocop was the first big-budget American film from by acclaimed Dutch director Paul Verhoeven. Verhoeven brought an outsider’s eye to the project, filling the movie with both obscene amounts of gore and a darkly humorous satirical edge. While it’s enjoyable purely for the explosions and fighting robots, that deeper layer of anti-consumerism subtext elevated it to greatness. Since release, Robocop has been recognized as both “a thinking man’s action movie” and “fascism for liberals”.

The nougaty center of social commentary has kept the film relevant, as well. Similar to Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho, it was made to reflect and send up many popular conventions of the era. But it’s not just a time capsule of problems long sense gone. Many social problems of the 1980s continued along, and others have enjoyed a resurgence in recent years. Many people still believe trickle-down “Reaganomics” is a viable method of job creation. The board members of Omni Consumer Products mention the privatization of space exploration, which the recent success of SpaceX brings to mind. Robocop also shows a state of advanced pop culture saturation, with the film interrupted by commercial advertisements and characters repeating sitcom catchphrases ad naseum. An argument could be made for the film showing the disintegration of journalistic integrity as well, with “Media Break” segments promising to give an entire day’s world news in three minutes.

Needless to say, I don’t think this requires a remake. I’m skeptical that an American film made today could express the same sarcasm with the similar subtlety. I don’t think modern CGI special effects will look as realistic. I worry that the gore will be neutered and the humor won’t be funny. But believe it or not, Hollywood didn’t ask my opinion. 

I don’t think it’s a hyperbole to say we’re living in a vast, arid, cultural drought. New ideas, good or bad, are hard to come by. And this is no more apparent than when we take a trip to the cinema. The only qualification an idea needs to be made into a movie is it was already something else, be it another movie, a video game, a comic book, a board game, or who knows what else. In this atmosphere, they’ll remake anything. Nobody’s darlings are safe. The results are not always terrible, of course, but not every remake can be Dawn of the Dead. Not every adaptation can be The Avengers. And as far as video game and toy and board game movies, well, I’m sure one of those will be watchable eventually.

Can the remake of Robocop be any good? Maybe. They have certainly cast some fantastic actors so far. And it remains to be seen if it will be a complete remake, or a reboot set several years after the initial Robocop program. I have my own ideas about what I’d like to see if this really, truly must happen, but it’s important to divorce myself from any expectations. Over the past several years, nerds have grown accustomed to accepting movies and relaunches and “fresh takes” on their favorite properties with a grain of salt. It’s all about remembering that something new can’t replace something old. They won’t round up Criterion DVDs to destroy when the remake comes out. In fact, recent history has shown us that after a few years, people tend to forget lackluster remakes entirely. (For example, remember the remake of Day of the Dead? Exactly.)

It’s also important to note that, no matter how the remake turns out, there’s no way it will be the worst thing to have Robocop’s name on it. Robocop has been selling out since he came into existence. The original film was released at the height of American consumerism and the beginnings of Hollywood’s insistence on franchises. Ignoring the controversial amounts of violence, the barely-achieved R rating, and highly anti-capitalist message, Robocop’s name was slapped on anything. There were toys and cartoons and with comic books, all aimed at children, well before the sequels began coming out. The subtext petered out over subsequent installments. The ratings decreased until it became the family-friendly robot action movie the studio executives wanted. Robocop as an idea has never been as strong as Robocop, the first film.

I’ll watch the Robocop remake. I’ll probably even buy the Blu-Ray when it’s released. But that’s not saying anything about its probable quality. I collect Robocop stuff; often the sillier the better. Watching such a noble concept being distorted is half the fun. The prize of my collection is a bottle of Robocop bubble bath. There’s no way the remake can be dumber than that.

I Hate Your Children

I just turned 27. Like most birthdays at this point in life, the day passed without incidence. I was awarded no new privileges. I didn’t even need to renew my driver’s license.

I still feel exactly the same, and yet, 27. That’s a big number. It’s getting harder and harder to deny that I’m a grownup. I’m certainly surrounded by responsible adults. I can probably count on one hand my good friends without children or serious, long-winded relationships. And a birthday is nothing if not an opportunity for self-evaluation. It’s a time to ask myself, do I want to be a proper adult? Do I want to be in a committed relationship? Do I want kids? 

Those first two questions required a solid moment of contemplation before a shrug and a “meh”. But that third one… I could barely type it without laughing and vomiting simultaneously.

I’ve never enjoyed the company of children. I’ve never felt comfortable around them. And over the past year, my disinterest has graduated to outright hatred. Let me explain. This year I’ve done a lot of traveling, and the reality of traveling is lots of time sitting in buses and trains. And in those enclosed spaces, I’ve discovered that I project some sort of trustworthiness aura. Overwhelmed single mothers spot me and think to themselves, “That looks like the type of man who would be happy to have my children kicking the back of his seat for the next six hours.”

Every. Single. Time.

Most children are the same. Any tiny differences or distinctions they have all melt away when locked in a metal tube and told to sit still for hours on end. Sooner or later, all children will freak the fuck out. Screaming, kicking, crying, you name it.

For a child, a long bus ride is cruel and unusual; I completely get that. I can hardly blame them for that. I do, however, expect those beleaguered, dead-eyed women to have some modicum of control over their broods. They must know how their child will react to a quiet, enclosed space. They should know how to wrangle their little bastards properly. But they never do. I’ve experienced all flavors of bus mothers, from the women speaking on their phones while their kids run wind-sprints up the aisle, to the ones who politely request their little ones stop punching my headrest, over and over, with no plans for what to do when they don’t listen. Which they never do. Just like their children, the ineffectual mothers all start to blend together. I hate them all equally.

So, back to self-reflection. I’m 27. I’m getting older. Maybe my opinions will change eventually. I might even want children eventually. But if I do, I’m going to do it right. And I’ll damn sure not be the type of person who brings a child on a public bus for anything longer than twenty minutes.  

I’m so much less than I appear

I must have one of those faces. Or possibly every type of face, all at the same time.

I’ve always been told I look like someone. It’s never someone specific (although I’ve been compared to Buzz Lightyear once or twice), just as a type of person. I’m told I look like someone who would live somewhere, or someone who would have a certain job, or someone who knows something special. And I don’t. I’m not. I never do.

This has been happening for as long as I can remember. In my youth, I was able to establish my personality because I was provided with so many options to choose from. At university, I remember a girl telling me I looked like I “don’t give a shit what anyone thinks”, to which I said, “Really? Do you mean it? Do other people think so, too? Will you ask them for me?”

It’s gotten even worse since traveling abroad. My sense of direction is just as abysmal as ever, but in every city I’ve visited, some poor schmuck with a map has asked me where something is. Usually with an American accent. And usually while shouting and over-enunciating every word, as if I were a native (or were possibly a retarded cat).

Since this blog has been pretty half-assed so far, I might as well just finish with a list. Here are some things I’ve been told I look like…

-          an accountant

-          an IT professional

-          an avid video game player

-          an avid board game player

-          an Eastern European

-          a Western European

-          an American

-          a Canadian

-          a homosexual

-          a metrosexual

-          a hipster

-          a square

And lastly…

-          someone interesting

As Seen on TV

No scrambled eggs on toast for me this morning.

My favorite hipster café in the Northern Quarter was closed for filming. Some TV show (I’d never heard of it) had taken over most of that block and the sidewalks were littered with big lights and guys with headsets glaring at me. I’ve been told this happens a lot in the area. Captain America, as every Mancunian is happy to brag, was filmed here. The same with dozens of comedies, dramas, films and TV shows. They’re used to it.

Before I moved up North I lived in London, the city which may as well have been a studio lot. It was hard to walk through even the shitty parts of that city and not expect to see a Dalek invasion or Jason Statham kicking someone. At one point, I actually wandered into the middle of a reality TV shoot. Before London I was in Bruges, where they filmed In Bruges. And before that? Anytime I watch Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, I can enjoy my old view of Prague out of certain hostel’s window (or as they like to call it, “generic Russian hospital”). This is all quite new to me.

Despite what I tell me people now, I’m not from Seattle. (Hey, you try finding Spokane on a map!) Every once in a while, something cool is filmed in Seattle, but I haven’t spent enough time there to recognize much. A few things are shot in Spokane, thanks to perennial underachiever North by Northwest Productions, but nothing worth bragging about, let alone watching. Well, almost nothing. You can’t forget about Give ‘Em Hell, Malone.

Give ‘Em Hell, Malone is a film noir starring Tom Jane as a private eye who gives a group of people hell. Bob’s your uncle. It’s a surprisingly fun flick with a lot of nice fedoras. However, the most noteworthy thing about it is where it was filmed. I recognized every single filming location as something in walking distance of my apartment. In fact, one time I made a wrong turn on the way to Taco Bell and it qualified as a Give ‘Em Hell, Malone walking tour.

But visiting a place where a movie was made is far different from having a movie made around you. Everyone loves recognizing someplace from TV but when you recognize someplace on TV, the effect is reversed. It sucks out any sense of magic or escapism. Truth be told, my biggest impression of Give ‘Em Hell, Malone was realizing just how terrible my neighborhood was, how easily it looked the part of a lawless, crumbling town filled with addicts and assholes.

Good thing that realization will never happen with Manchester. After all, they filmed Captain America here.