The Happening
(dir. M. Night Shyamalan)
(starring Mark Wahlberg, Zooey Deschanel, John Leguizamo)
(*** out of ****)
Movies like this walk a very fine line. One on hand, I love a movie that makes me think, but I hate a movie that is so absurd it makes no sense. The more I let all the parts of M. Night Shyamalan's sixth Hollywood endeavor germinate, the more I begin to believe that this film is more of the former rather than the latter.
M. Night's chosen path as a filmmaker reminds of one of those awesomely bad "No Fear" T-shirts that were popular for a hot minute in my formative middle school years: "If you're not living on the edge then you're taking up too much space." Shyamalan has consistently tread on that hair's breadth of a line between genius and poppy-cock (at least in my own estimation) since he burst onto the Hollywood scene almost ten years ago.
Shyamalan knocked one out of the park with his first film 1999's the Sixth Sense. The film with the "killer twist," scored huge at the box office, and landed eight Oscar nominations (including two for Shyamalan himself for writing and directing). It was unheard of that a "scary" movie could play so well for the snooty Academy, so it was not necessarily a disappointment when the film tallied a nasty goose-egg on the big night. Also raking in nearly $300 million in domestic box office on a modest $55 million budget is not too shabby.
Shyamalan has yet to replicate the magic of the Sixth Sense in terms of universal appeal, but he has stayed true to his own style each time out, sometimes to his detriment. With one harrowing exception M. Night has always recouped his film's budget in domestic box office receipts, and that generally keep someone interested in financing you're films no matter how weird they are.
His second film Unbreakable retained the high-powered star that powered his first success, Bruce Willis, and added the money hungry Samuel L. Jackson (I say that lovingly because Jackson seems to do every movie that he reads; he's been in some world class bombs). It was an homage to Shyamalan's lifelong fascination with comic books. His heroes didn't wear flashy colors, and the movie's twist was that the main character's were in fact the stereotypical hero and villain. The movie didn't quite break $100 million at the box office. It might have been bad timing as the first X-men movie had killed during the summer, and maybe moviegoers weren't looking for an offbeat, darker comic book movie.
For Signs, M Night. traded in John McClane for Martin Riggs, and regained his mojo with a $227 million rake. His alien invasion spooker, was well structured. I still maintain that the first reveal of the alien through the news footage is one of the best "recoil" moments in any film this decade. Then the twist truly ruined the film for me. Shyamalan nicked the alien's weakness from H.G Wells, and he made it even more absurd. How do those aliens choose to land on a planet covered with a the very substance that is deadly to them. YAWN! Talk about deflating the suspense.
The trailers for 2004's The Village, didn't inspire very much confidence. I vowed to not watch the film's due to the trailer's pandering to a horror movie's lowest common denominator. I was thus perplexed when my best friend insisted I give the film chance, giving it a must-see label. I entered the theater highly skeptical, and needless to say I was floored by what transpired.
After three films with pronounced twists, one can't watch his films without trying to unravel the mystery before the "big reveal" So I immediately went for M. Night's "dummy twist" proclaiming out loud in the theater "The monster's aren't real!" So as my guard was then lower I was completely blindsided by the real twist, that the film was in fact not a period piece, but a support group of those who had lost loved ones to crimes of passion, had fashioned an isolated community to attempt to escape from the evil that permeates our society today. I remember hearing people scoff at the idea of people foregoing the comforts of modern technology to live in a agrarian society, but I was fairly impressed by the message that even in a simple society you cannot escape man's inherent desire to harm one another to obtain that which they can't.
Oh and I developed an unhealthy fixation on Bryce Dallas Howard, the first in a long line of movie star and musician redheads, that I pine after still.
It was Howard's involvement in Lady in the Water, that ultimately disappointed me the most. Easily the worst of M. Night's canon. I was really disappointed that Howard would agree to star in such a horrible film. I honestly couldn't finish The Lady in the Water. It was the first movie of Shyamalan's to truly fail at the box office, only netting $44 million domestically despite a $75 million budget. Shyamalan had enjoyed a budget around that size since his breakout hit, but the Lady fiasco knocked him down peg, and this summer's the Happening was made for $57 million.
Now for the main event. The Happening is a meticulously structured paranoia thiller, with impressive notes of cringe-inducing horror, and mild comedic beats. The movie is really just meat and potatoes, which some will slam as over simplified, but to me is merely concise and effective.
The movie opens with the scores of people in Central Park suddenly stopping what they are doing, and deciding to end their own lives by whatever means they can. The news outlets in the film identify that toxin was introduced that flips the inhibitor in the brain that controls our human predication for self preservation. The toxin is suggested as a terrorist attack, leading those in major cities to evacuate. This is no "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" rip-off. Those exposed to the toxin are only a threat to one person: themselves. An enemy you can't see or defend against is nothing new, but one who turns you on yourself is a fresh take for sure.
The plot then follows race of a few people to avoid this toxin as best they can. The two leads are a recently married couple, Elliott and Alma. Elliot (Wahlberg) is a high school science teacher, a hopeless romantic, who may have married Alma (Deschanel) hastily. Also in their group is Elliott's co-worker Julian (Leguizamo) and his young daughter Jess (Ashlyn Sanchez). Julian leaves Jess with Alma and Elliott to go after his wife, who had made her way to a different town than their group.
It becomes based on the patterns of the toxin's release, that terrorists aren't behind the toxin, but that plant's are the source of the toxin. The first instances occurred in parks, and they are only occurring in the northeast United States, where there is the highest concentration of nuclear power plants. Thus this M, Night twist seems to have a very political theme: Human beings are polluting their planet to such a degree that plants have evolved in response and are sic-ing humans on themselves to even the playing field. It is suggested that the plants' are triggered by groups of people, prompting the survivors to split into smaller and smaller groups.
This twist is partial reversal on the twist from Signs, but for better effect. Our planet is covered with flora, and therefore, if plants were ever a danger to us, how could we escape their wrath. Mind you this a more elegant version that killer plants. The film does not contain.garish man-eating venus flytraps.
The secondary motivation that triggers the plants to release the toxin, is even more subtle and subject to much debate. It appears that anger and/ or hate is also a catalyst for the toxin's release. A small group arguing over who's in charge prompts a release, and an lone angry woman does as well. Towards the end of the film the remaining three leads: Elliot, Alma, and Jess find themselves separated in what they term to be the end of their lives. Due to their intense love for each other, which was confirmed and strengthened in their flight from this epidemic, they choose to face danger head on, to be together in their final moments. It is at this moment that the episode ends. One can be led to believe that they were simply fortunate that it ended, or one could argue that their love actually prompted these plants to "stand down." These three had abandoned their fear of death, dismantling the efficacy of the plant's toxin.
Thus the strategy of dispersing this toxin reveals its true genius. Facing an unidentifiable and seemingly inescapable foe, those in the line of fire would be hard pressed to feel anything but fear and despair, and even anger at their own helplessness. And they therefore will forever be the best targets.
Peeling back these layers of narrative construction like an onion, further reinforce my appreciation for this film. The acting was fair to middling. However scenes like one where Elliott pleads with a potted plant to not kill him only to find out the plant was plastic redeem the weaker ones.
James Newton Howard's score is Oscar-worthy, as is generally the case.
Overall my faith in M. Night Shyamalan is restored for the time being. He's prone to a make a misstep or two, so a film of this caliber doesn't not completely absolve him for Lady in the Water, but he's certainly out of the dog house. The film is not a homerun, but is most certainly a triple, which are generally harder to come by.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
the worst place to wake up
When I came to, I was surrounded by annoyed medical professionals who calmly told me to lay back, try to relax, and to tell them what I had drank that night. My vision was blurred, my motor skills weren't all there, and my chest was on fire. Slowly I realized I had passed out for the umpteenth time due to drinking, and this time I had actually been taken to the hospital.
It was Homecoming my senior year at college. My fraternity made a little formal date party of the event, and I being of supreme wisdom had declined to bring a date. The idea of coat-and-tie tailgating seems absurd to me five years later, mainly because I associate tailgating with less than formal pursuits like shotgunning beers and messy barbeque finger foods. However our fraternity's alumni had put together a nice little spread under our tent, with jambalaya and several different bottles of whiskey. Little did I know that at the end of the evening I would be waking up in the second-worst place to wake up following a drinking stupor.
My most impressive blackout feat to this point in time had been our semi-formal party my sophmore year, when I had awakened in the bushes across the street from the New Orleans Convention Center at 7 in the morning, just next to the off ramp of Interstate 10. I was wearing my brown suit (which blended into the mulch I was laying in). I had however lost my tie, and one of my shoes. I cabbed it back to campus (amazingly I still had my wallet). The cab-driver mentioned that I was missing a shoe, and I agreed with him quietly, and we finished the ride in silence. That evening we had a fraternity meeting, and no one could piece together what happened to me. It would be the first of many times over the next three years that I would black out, and simply wander away at night.
In rampant denial of my alcoholism, I noted that my date to that night's function, had left very early in the night to take care of a friend of hers. With her gone I ceased to curtail my drinking to a reasonable level, and swiftly imbibed myself into a bush. If in fact the lack of a date catalyzed my drinking, it did not bode well for me two years later at homecoming when I was dateless for the whole event, and wearing that same "lucky" brown suit.
At homecoming senior year, I did not see one actual football play executed. I stayed outside the stadium for both halves, only venturing in for the halftime show to see the featured act Outkast. Filming an MTV special, they performed their latest hit Hey Ya! twice in a row, much to the chagrin of the full stadium standing in a light, drizzling rain. I focused on counting bottles that day instead of downs. I progressed throughout the day from Makers Mark, to Jack Daniels, to my old standby Jim Beam. We simply kept finishing the bottles so I had to move on to what I gauged was the next best thing.
I remember heading from homecoming to a bar following the game. We had some food out, and a keg tapped there was laughing and dancing ... This is where the memories end. When I came to, my "lucky" brown suit was still on me. However the hospital staff had cut right sleeve of the coat lengthwise to my shoulder, to put in my IV and get me rehydrated. I distinctly remember how curtly I was being admonished by one nurse in particular, as if to say "Christ, why do I have to babysit these drunk college kids?"
Oh and reason my chest burned was because I had been given a sternum rub to determine how deep my alcohol coma was. I had not come to as a some doctors knuckles had scraped up and down my sternum, prompting the destruction of my favorite suit coat and button-down shirt.
Once again, none of my fraternity brothers had any idea that I was in the hospital. My brother happened to be in town with a friend from high school, and he called my cell phone, and was given the story when a nurse picked up on my end. He came and picked me up at the hospital and left me in my own bed with a bottle of Gatorade.
I reflect on this story now, because I realize that waking up in the hospital is probably the next to worst place to wake up, and I really hope I never experience the first. In my estimation the worst place to wake up would in fact be jail. A good friend of mine recently told me that
...
I've been tossing this story around recently because an acquaintance of mine recently found himself arrested, and in that worst place, for the second time. I had seen him just prior to an incident which ultimately led to him ending up in jail again.
A good friend of mine who cares deeply for this person went out on the line for this unlucky individual, securing his bail through a bail bondsman. I don't believe he's gotten much support from those close to him for this decision.
My friend cares deeply for this individual, and feels that he doesn't deserve to stay in jail while he waits for his court date. At the advice of his lawyer he also believes that the judge will be more likely to be lenient should the individual show up in civilian clothes rather than an orange jumpsuit.
I've still not decided how I feel overall about the situation. I did not know the individual in question well enough to justify securing his bail as my friend did. I know many friends who I would jump to help in a time of need, and similarly those who would come to my aid. What if I should I do something to one day warrant ending up in jail? So my friends and/or family come to my rescue. What if I follow up that kindness, and end up in jail again? At what point do they stop trying to rescue me?
I hope that things iron out as this situation unfolds. I am simply a spectator to this contest. I can only wish for the best; I can't do anything to influence the outcome.
The board is set...the pieces are moving. I can only pray this ends well.
It was Homecoming my senior year at college. My fraternity made a little formal date party of the event, and I being of supreme wisdom had declined to bring a date. The idea of coat-and-tie tailgating seems absurd to me five years later, mainly because I associate tailgating with less than formal pursuits like shotgunning beers and messy barbeque finger foods. However our fraternity's alumni had put together a nice little spread under our tent, with jambalaya and several different bottles of whiskey. Little did I know that at the end of the evening I would be waking up in the second-worst place to wake up following a drinking stupor.
My most impressive blackout feat to this point in time had been our semi-formal party my sophmore year, when I had awakened in the bushes across the street from the New Orleans Convention Center at 7 in the morning, just next to the off ramp of Interstate 10. I was wearing my brown suit (which blended into the mulch I was laying in). I had however lost my tie, and one of my shoes. I cabbed it back to campus (amazingly I still had my wallet). The cab-driver mentioned that I was missing a shoe, and I agreed with him quietly, and we finished the ride in silence. That evening we had a fraternity meeting, and no one could piece together what happened to me. It would be the first of many times over the next three years that I would black out, and simply wander away at night.
In rampant denial of my alcoholism, I noted that my date to that night's function, had left very early in the night to take care of a friend of hers. With her gone I ceased to curtail my drinking to a reasonable level, and swiftly imbibed myself into a bush. If in fact the lack of a date catalyzed my drinking, it did not bode well for me two years later at homecoming when I was dateless for the whole event, and wearing that same "lucky" brown suit.
At homecoming senior year, I did not see one actual football play executed. I stayed outside the stadium for both halves, only venturing in for the halftime show to see the featured act Outkast. Filming an MTV special, they performed their latest hit Hey Ya! twice in a row, much to the chagrin of the full stadium standing in a light, drizzling rain. I focused on counting bottles that day instead of downs. I progressed throughout the day from Makers Mark, to Jack Daniels, to my old standby Jim Beam. We simply kept finishing the bottles so I had to move on to what I gauged was the next best thing.
I remember heading from homecoming to a bar following the game. We had some food out, and a keg tapped there was laughing and dancing ... This is where the memories end. When I came to, my "lucky" brown suit was still on me. However the hospital staff had cut right sleeve of the coat lengthwise to my shoulder, to put in my IV and get me rehydrated. I distinctly remember how curtly I was being admonished by one nurse in particular, as if to say "Christ, why do I have to babysit these drunk college kids?"
Oh and reason my chest burned was because I had been given a sternum rub to determine how deep my alcohol coma was. I had not come to as a some doctors knuckles had scraped up and down my sternum, prompting the destruction of my favorite suit coat and button-down shirt.
Once again, none of my fraternity brothers had any idea that I was in the hospital. My brother happened to be in town with a friend from high school, and he called my cell phone, and was given the story when a nurse picked up on my end. He came and picked me up at the hospital and left me in my own bed with a bottle of Gatorade.
I reflect on this story now, because I realize that waking up in the hospital is probably the next to worst place to wake up, and I really hope I never experience the first. In my estimation the worst place to wake up would in fact be jail. A good friend of mine recently told me that
...
I've been tossing this story around recently because an acquaintance of mine recently found himself arrested, and in that worst place, for the second time. I had seen him just prior to an incident which ultimately led to him ending up in jail again.
A good friend of mine who cares deeply for this person went out on the line for this unlucky individual, securing his bail through a bail bondsman. I don't believe he's gotten much support from those close to him for this decision.
My friend cares deeply for this individual, and feels that he doesn't deserve to stay in jail while he waits for his court date. At the advice of his lawyer he also believes that the judge will be more likely to be lenient should the individual show up in civilian clothes rather than an orange jumpsuit.
I've still not decided how I feel overall about the situation. I did not know the individual in question well enough to justify securing his bail as my friend did. I know many friends who I would jump to help in a time of need, and similarly those who would come to my aid. What if I should I do something to one day warrant ending up in jail? So my friends and/or family come to my rescue. What if I follow up that kindness, and end up in jail again? At what point do they stop trying to rescue me?
I hope that things iron out as this situation unfolds. I am simply a spectator to this contest. I can only wish for the best; I can't do anything to influence the outcome.
The board is set...the pieces are moving. I can only pray this ends well.
Friday, June 6, 2008
behind closed doors
Its a harrowing thought that these days, an exciting news story for me involves a town government possibly talking about things they shouldn't in closed session: things like grant applications. When did these things begin to pique my interest?
I tried to explain why I was finally handed something interesting to write about to my friends last weekend. As I laid out the details, I could see my friends' eyes glaze over: they had mentally checked out. They were no longer listening, but merely waiting for me to stop talking. One of them then compared me to the nameless, faceless teachers in a Peanuts cartoon, whose verbal output was a consistently unintelligible noise (while the noise is instantly recognizable when spoken, I find it hard to replicate in written words).
How do I explain that what I was assigned to write about was interesting? I tend to dismiss most of what I right in my summations of these torturous board of commissioners meetings as trivial and most certainly yawn-inducing. Endless people searching for exceptions to zoning ordinances so they can save $5,000 less on their million dollar construction project. Occasionally though the boards must talk about private matters, such as personnel issues or lawsuits, so they go into closed session. The public cannot know what goes on in closed session, until the matters discussed are no longer sensitive, at which point the closed session minutes are released.
Another time when closed session is needed is when the town is considering purchasing property. They can discuss the matter in closed session in order to protect their bid on the property. However the decision to use any municipal funds cannot be made in closed session; the public should know how the money is always being spent.
So recently we receive a press release from the state agency that has just approved a grant for one of our local governments. Further research into corresponding project reveals that it is contingent upon another sizable grant as well as matching funds from that government. Funny how that town had never to this point mentioned this project in their board meetings, despite having given approval for these grant applications.
So then the town announced support of the second grant recently, and suddenly the dollar amounts involved in the project were different (only four days later). The property owner was now asking for less than before, therefore the second grant would be for significantly less, and now the entire project could be funded without the town providing additional funds. Funny how that works.
This park project that should now be funded, should benefit the community. Thus the dilemma is: if a governing body conspires to do something away from the public eye, is it justified if the end result is beneficial? Who decided if the ultimate goal was beneficial or not?
I'm reminded of a similar ethics argument existing in the movie Gone Baby Gone. Should one who is charged with upholding the law, knowingly break the law to do what they think is right?
I don't tend to like politics, but seeing as I am technically the government reporter at this newspaper at which I work, I figure it was only a matter of time before I started rolling around in these sorts of issues. I can't promise I won't blog about politics in the future, but I sure hope my next political-themed rant is a long way off.
I tried to explain why I was finally handed something interesting to write about to my friends last weekend. As I laid out the details, I could see my friends' eyes glaze over: they had mentally checked out. They were no longer listening, but merely waiting for me to stop talking. One of them then compared me to the nameless, faceless teachers in a Peanuts cartoon, whose verbal output was a consistently unintelligible noise (while the noise is instantly recognizable when spoken, I find it hard to replicate in written words).
How do I explain that what I was assigned to write about was interesting? I tend to dismiss most of what I right in my summations of these torturous board of commissioners meetings as trivial and most certainly yawn-inducing. Endless people searching for exceptions to zoning ordinances so they can save $5,000 less on their million dollar construction project. Occasionally though the boards must talk about private matters, such as personnel issues or lawsuits, so they go into closed session. The public cannot know what goes on in closed session, until the matters discussed are no longer sensitive, at which point the closed session minutes are released.
Another time when closed session is needed is when the town is considering purchasing property. They can discuss the matter in closed session in order to protect their bid on the property. However the decision to use any municipal funds cannot be made in closed session; the public should know how the money is always being spent.
So recently we receive a press release from the state agency that has just approved a grant for one of our local governments. Further research into corresponding project reveals that it is contingent upon another sizable grant as well as matching funds from that government. Funny how that town had never to this point mentioned this project in their board meetings, despite having given approval for these grant applications.
So then the town announced support of the second grant recently, and suddenly the dollar amounts involved in the project were different (only four days later). The property owner was now asking for less than before, therefore the second grant would be for significantly less, and now the entire project could be funded without the town providing additional funds. Funny how that works.
This park project that should now be funded, should benefit the community. Thus the dilemma is: if a governing body conspires to do something away from the public eye, is it justified if the end result is beneficial? Who decided if the ultimate goal was beneficial or not?
I'm reminded of a similar ethics argument existing in the movie Gone Baby Gone. Should one who is charged with upholding the law, knowingly break the law to do what they think is right?
I don't tend to like politics, but seeing as I am technically the government reporter at this newspaper at which I work, I figure it was only a matter of time before I started rolling around in these sorts of issues. I can't promise I won't blog about politics in the future, but I sure hope my next political-themed rant is a long way off.
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