Showing posts with label Creature Features. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creature Features. Show all posts

Monday, October 12, 2009

Pandorum - (film review)



            The cross-genre Horror/Sci-Fi is met with varying degrees of success.  Films such as Alien, Aliens, and Sunshine have all managed to successfully transfer the most potent elements of each separate genre creating an aggregate of superior filmmaking.  Pandorum however, cannot be added to this list.
            I wanted to enjoy this film.  The foreboding omniscient overtones in the atmosphere of the space ship made for a wonderfully interesting backdrop through which the themes of repopulation and the survival of life could play out.  The actualization of capitalist struggles to eliminate nature in favour of metallic man-made technology seen at its most extreme is quite the powerful statement.  However, Pandorum has its safety net in Tanis, the equally life-sustaining planet to which the ship’s mission is to find.  The most interesting themes this film raises are quickly snowballed into utter clichéd oblivion once the archetypal (read: racist stereotypes) characters are introduced, one by one: a) the white lieutenant/leader; b) the female mother, who’s natural instincts are to actively protect the last shreds of nature that are being exported from Earth; c) the aboriginal warrior, who does not speak a word of English, thus relegating the substance of his character to a few inaudible words and many grunts and shrieks; d) the black (southern-style) fry-cook, who also turns out to be ‘in-it-for-himself’, thus justifying (supposedly) his criminal behvaiours; e) the heterosexual couple who’s purpose it is to re-populate Tanis and preserve the human race.  It seems in space, and consequently in the future, people are still racist/sexist/heterosexist.
            Unfortunately, the handling of such delicate socio-environmental issues as they are integrated into the plotline are continuously collapsing under the thinness of the overt and convoluted dialogue and action sequences.  I am a big fan of both science fiction and horror films and I believe that the most wonderous of these genre pieces can effectively illuminate some interesting social potentials not always fully considered in the discourse of socio-environmental issues.  So, in experiencing Pandorum I kept trying to suspend my disconcert for such blatant offences as I have listed above.  Perhaps if the raw material in which the director had to work was better written, all would be forgiven?  Alas, I found myself uninterested more than three-quarters of the way in, watching a film that attempted to superficially adopt film tropes from other successful genre films in hopes to capture some of the effectiveness here.
            It seems to me like Christian Alvart and Travis Milloy are the kind of filmmakers that suppose substance can be read into or onto their pretty scenes of beautiful leads, disconcerting supporting stars, and eerily-lit settings.  Unfortunately for them, the success of films such as Alien and The Descent (of which this film is a blatant cross between) is not reliant on these shallow Hollywood-esque predictions on what makes a substantial well-made film.  In other words, Pandorum is fluff disguised as a significant allegorical cautionary tale of environmental and social catastrophe.
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Grade: 69% (C+)

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Jennifer's Body - (film review)


            The title, “Jennifer’s Body”, draws attention to the textual physicality of bodily relations—a ubiquitous aspect of horror films that is very often ignored in their critical reviews.  The body is everywhere in horror films: bodies mutilated, bodies naked for sexual display, hormonal teens trying to control (or trying not to control) their bodies.  The body becomes the central focus of horror films, however most analyses of these films misses the intricate subtlety of how bodies inform the characters’ relationships to themselves and to the respective monster(s).
            The signification of the phallus in “Jennifer’s Body” is glaringly prevalent.  Queer theorist Judith Butler, in her work “The Lesbian Phallus and the Morphological Imaginary”, delineates how the phallus restructures its affiliations to the penis through a process of resignification (Butler 1993).  Let me explain.  Butler argues that the phallus (a symbolic representation of the penis) can situate itself in a variety of body parts: the arm, the leg, the tongue, can all come to represent the phallus.  This symbolic redirection can situate itself in a variety of bodies: male, female, queer, etc.  When the appropriation of the symbolic phallus manifests itself in female form, suddenly the presence of the phallus exists beyond the presence of a penis.  Basically, to represent the phallus, one need not have a penis.  If this is the case, then it stands to reason that the phallus no longer is a specific representation of the penis—instead it has been reappropriated to symbolize something more than penal penetration.
            How does this relate to “Jennifer’s Body”, and Jennifer’s body, you might ask.  Well, in the film, Jennifer becomes a demonic embodiment of the penetrating and prevailing heterosexist phallus—however in this case the phallus becomes inverted to devour the heteropatriarchy that allowed it to become as prevalent and powerful as it has.  Jennifer eats her victims.  She penetrates them, and consumes their blood.  Her sustenance is dependent on this continued inversion of male-female penetration.  The interesting thing about this situation that Jennifer finds herself in is that to maintain her beautiful glow she must feed on boys (well a girl may work, but we are not privy to that information).  It’s even more interesting if we include the manner in which Jennifer attained this power and desire to feed—I would argue to some degree that Jennifer has always had this power, but for the purposes of horror, it becomes more physically real once her demonic possession surfaces.
            The members of Low Shoulder, desperate to further their careers decide to sacrifice Jennifer—they believe she’s a virgin.  (It’s interesting how Cody decided to position these boys and cast their lustful desire in a manner that causes them to overlook the actual virgin that could have more successfully guaranteed their sacrifice—they opt for Jennifer over her bookish friend Needy, most likely because Jennifer looks hotter.  This tiny fact becomes rather inconsequential considering they attain the stardom they sought through sacrifice of Jennifer, however the sacrifice of Needy could have saved them from their inevitable demise).  Their penetration of Jennifer enables a more powerful manifestation of the phallic desire to penetrate within Jennifer—basically penetration is contagious.  The omnipresence of the boys in Low Shoulder (more specifically the lead singer) is a suspicious and intriguing inclusion in the film.  They are littered throughout the movie, however besides the initial harbingers of demon Jennifer, they have little interaction with the films heroine(s), settings, or overall plot.
            This becoming for Jennifer is characteristic of Simone De Beauvoir’s integral feminist stance on the formation of womanhood, and the construction of femininity (De Beauvoir 1989).  Jennifer, at the beginning of the film, actually “becomes” a woman, and it is this female construction that causes such massive internal and external distress.  The internal conflict Jennifer faces is not about the consumption of boys.  Instead the internal distress is a relation to the sexual insecurities and possessive nature of her friendship with Needy.  The boys, and their death(s), are inconsequential to Jennifer—her motivation to kill these boys is really a subplot to the essence of the film’s central feature: the homoerotic relationship of Jennifer and Needy.  It is this female-female relationship that fuels the action for both characters.  That is not to say that the boys are carelessly treated, pushed aside, or given little humanity that the audience actually cheers for their deaths—it is quite the opposite.  The only boys that are considered to be the epitome of heteropatriarchal omniscience are the members of Low Shoulder.
            Jennifer is advertised as being on a rampage.  This is misleading given that she only devours 2 boys whole, and one attempt at another—miniscule given the usual body count in horror films.  Jennifer’s awkward relation to how her body is responding to the desire for sexual gratification is causing her to devour the inconsequential boys.  She is using her phallus to gratify an internal desire—a carnal desire, if you will, that does not necessarily link to emotional and compassionate relationships/desires.  Her only sense of intimacy is with Needy.
            It would be rather irresponsible of me to consider the relation of femininity, female assertiveness, and bodily relation within women, without discussing Needy—the second half of the central character dynamic.  In a recent interview conducted by Mr. Beaks of Aintitcool.com with director Karyn Kusama—the reason for the taught direction in the film—it is explained how the treatment of the body for both Jennifer and Needy are dualistically paralleled in the film (for full interview see http://www.aintitcool.com/node/42397).  Mr. Beaks manages to adequately and deftly espouse the intricacies that inform the sexual dread of female physicality: the strangeness of the body, and how women negotiate the social factors that contradict their simultaneous repression and encouragement—repression and encouragement that generally surfaces for very different reasons, but are both typically related to how female sexuality affects and effects male patriarchy.  Instead, Cody and Kusama work in tandem to redirect the sexual dread and subsequent negotiation away from patriarchy and focus it towards femininity—Jennifer and Needy are simultaneous protagonist/antagonist whose sexuality is fueled and motivated by the other.  Even for Needy, who is seemingly in love with her boyfriend, is driven to act in this film not by Chip, but by Jennifer.  She treats Chip at times like a pet, deserving of love, but lacking in ability to properly comprehend the complexities she is feeling—which is quite true given his reluctance to believe her when she tries to explain Jennifer’s nature.  Moreover, in the scene shortly following Needy losing her virginity to Chip (a scene that I believe the director treated with monumental care and respect for such an awkward teenage experience), Needy is locking tongues and indulging in her quite apparent homoerotic feelings for Jennifer, with Jennifer, and vice versa.  Even during Needy and Chip’s sex scene, the enjoyment of that mutually gratifying act cannot come to fruition for Needy as Jennifer’s experience with the boy she is devouring overwhelms and invades Needy, refusing to let her completely indulge in the intimate experience she finds herself in.  For both girls, the complications they experience in relation to their bodies are not satiated through normative heterosexuality.  Only the other can fully grasp the intricacies of physical and sexual dread—this is why that kiss half-way through the film is sequenced with no sound, and invades the crevices of the girls by focusing on them in extreme close-ups.
            However, this is not to say that there is a level of awareness in the girls as to exactly what is complicating their relationships to themselves, each other, and boys.  Shortly after the make-out session, Needy jumps back and yells: “What the fuck is happening!”—a sentiment that the audience mimics.  It seems Cody and Kusama have subliminally taken the audience and the characters through a libidinal rollercoaster ride.  This result may also be unintentional, however, given the level of sophistication I have read from Kusama’s interview and the way in which she discusses Cody’s intentions, I do believe that these ideas and themes were driving a lot of the motivation behind their work.
            To conclude, the film is an interesting display of the female body and how the female body is central to larger, more complex, interpersonal relationships—how it serves to signify sexual meaning and understanding within prevailing patriarchal heteronormativity.  In a recent correspondence with Marla Newborn, or Fangoria Magazine, it came to my attention that even the casting of the film plays an intricate role to its complex nature—the societal lusting after Megan Fox is inverted by Megan Fox’s portrayal of Jennifer: a seemingly bisexual demonic beast that devours the male who dares to objectify her, and shows compassion only to females.  It is their objectification that nourishes Megan/Jennifer, another complex contradiction of the film and its confusing portrayal of sexual dread.  The male gaze sustains Jennifer’s superficial needs, but it is femininity and female relations that motivate her actions.
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Butler, Judith. 1993. Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of ‘Sex’. New York: Routledge


DeBeauvoir, Simone.  1989 (1952). The Second Sex. Translated by H. M. Parshley.  New York: Knopf , Vintage Books Edition.
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Grade: 89% (A)