Whiplash Painfully Good

While I did study literature and film in college, my knowledge of music is woefully inadequate. So when I heard about the new film written and directed by Damien Chazelle Whiplash focused on music, I thought Metallica and not Hank Levy.  (I doubt Lars could play the song by Levy.)  

Whiplash moves briskly like the song itself—fast, technical and tense. The film stars Miles Teller as first-year student Andrew, who attends Shaffer Conservatory, one of the best musical colleges in the country. Practicing one day the aforementioned song, his drumming catches the attention of the mercurial Terence Fletcher, played with amazing intensity by J.K. Simmons. Fletcher is the brilliant musician who conducts the school’s prestige jazz band.  He demands discipline, dedication and deference. 

The basic plot is familiar: exacting teacher/coach/leader demands excellence from his students/players/men.  The difference is how Fletcher “instructs”; he manipulates, humiliates, and intimidates his students. Fletcher uses every little piece of information as a tool against his students. Fletcher, in one intense scene, repeatedly smacks Andrew in full view of the band in effort to teach the difference between “rushing” and “dragging.” It is cruel and shocking.  The scenes between Fletcher and Andrew and the band are the strength of the film.  Those scenes are intense and difficult to watch. 

Fletcher thinks his approach produces the best musicians, citing one story about a famous drummer’s perseverance to his pupil, Andrew. We see the folly in this. The berating and mind-fucking of his students is antithetical to pedagogical methodologies and being a decent person. In short, it is sadistic and unnecessary. Or is that the only way to produce extraordinary efforts?  That depends on how one takes the ending. Has Fletcher’s methods worked as Andrew plays triumphantly as the movie ends?  Or does Andrew triumph in spite or to spite Fletcher? Perhaps, it is not a triumphant at all. The film leaves the viewer to decide.  

Either way, the film is one entertaining and intense experience. It is worth the time to seek it out.   

Free Me From the Film Exodus

Exodus: God and Kings slugs along slowly and dismally. With all the CGI effects and familiar battles, not including Ridley Scott’s direction, one might assume some excitement and energy in watching Moses free his people. There is none in the film to speak of.  

The story is familiar to many. Moses, played by Christian Bale, grows up believing he is royalty when in fact he was born a slave.  He eventually frees his people with the help a child-like god.  One of the only interesting elements of the film is that God, at least as Moses sees him, is a child, no more than 9 or 10. This makes perfect sense as the “God” in this story acts like a petulant and immature child. After all, as God, he simply could have avoided all the pain and misery inflicted on all parties without all the gratuitous death and trickery.  I mean, he is God with all the powers of omnipotence and whatever else is conferred upon a deity. And we know he can create, initiate, facilitate (he has a strong hand in the events) a range of terrifying and awesome ‘events.’ Does he not, therefore, have the ability to free the slaves without all the bloodshed?

Consider the killing of the 1^st born child as part of God’s persuasive plan to compel Rameses, played by Joel Ederton, to free those in bondage. If one steps back and logically evaluates this plan, most would find it appalling and frankly immoral.  Why do a lot of innocent children have to die in order to free slaves? Why does the childish God believe this to be a good idea? If he truly loves all people, isn’t it a bizarre thing to kill them?  And what of all the innocent lambs, who are killed so that their blood can be spread across the doors so that the plague can understand that these people are good, sanguineous, but good and thus need to be spared.  God obviously can find no sympathy for the lambs or innocent first born children whose parents decided against bloody commandment. 

But that is problem with the story as a whole, so what can Scott do about that, I suppose.  Still, the film had me thinking about how damn cruel, vicious and immoral the story is without caring a wit about what was happening on the screen. This is not even a film to recommend on video.

The Walking Dead's Inherent Appeal

The Walking Dead’s popularity continues to grow. The 5^th season saw its audience overtake ratings king, Sunday Night Football, twice. Why does the show continue to draw so many viewers? It can’t be the writing.  The characters often engage in illogical or incredulous behavior that often has to be explained on the tedious Talking Dead show that follows. This is a mark of poor writing to be sure. Indeed, it is hard to identify one season where the intrepid saviors don’t do something entirely stupid.  There is not much in the way of interesting dialogue either.  And there is not much character development to speak of and when a character is “fleshed out” his or her end is nigh high. It’s predictable that way. 

Certainly some of the appeal relates to the show’s conceit: a group of people trying to survive in bleak and difficult circumstances. This idea has been employed throughout literature and often makes for compelling entertainment. From the Poseidon Adventure to Predator to any of the Aliens films, and on and on, stories like to put people to the test and see if they can make it.  We are entertained through their struggle and secretly pull for them to make it—well most of the people. We imagine our own chances to survive in these stories. Could we do what it takes to survive? This may even harken back to some primordial sense buried deep, when our species struggled to persist in a dangerous world.  We have scarcely had it so good, so perhaps the show appeals to an earlier instinct. 

However the apocalyptic milieu depicted on the show may also appeal to our own sense of impending extinction.  Information from leading scientists paints a very dim and bleak assessment of our continued survival. Indeed one finds it hard to see humans surviving into the 2030s. That’s fifteen years from now and a very disconcerting idea, an existential crisis indeed.  Perhaps he is wrong and overstating it. So, then, twenty years? Twenty five? Fifty? One hundred? Soon, though.  Further many scientists have observed that we are living in the 6^th Mass Extinction. The five prior essentially killed almost everything on the planet. The last one some 65 million years ago killed the dinosaurs. Take a peek at the animal kingdom. Elephants and rhinos are almost all gone. Same with lions, tigers, polar bears, fish, etc.  Amphibians are nearly extinct. Same with plants. They are going extinct at a breakneck speed, thanks to humans many scientists reveal. Of course, other scientists, fewer by far than those who do, say otherwise and the threat is overstated and hyperbolic.

The weather has been acting oddly. Some do not believe in anthropogenic climate disruption (ACD)—global warming-- because Al Gore made a movie about it, but it is hard to ignore what we can see outside the windows. We also understand that we are polluting the environment and that this must have a negative impact.  Have you ever looked at the toxicity that attends to animal agriculture? Have you heard about fracking? And who can overlook all the oil that is spilled into the environment. Not to mention all the emissions. It is easier to ignore the glum facts, like many people I know, but deep down we know something is askew. It’s not supposed to be like this. Nature is responding. 

While the bleak and calamitous environment on the Walking Dead will not be the same as runaway greenhouse effect, we understand that something terrible is heading our way. We sense it. So perhaps the appeal of the show reminds us of our undoing, and our folly at ignoring threats and thinking we can overcome anything.  After all, the threat is us, I mean it’s the walkers.

My Last Droog: Walking Dead For Vegans?

My Last Droog: Walking Dead For Vegans?

Walking Dead For Vegans?

Who would have guessed that the horrors, savagery, and brutality of eating flesh were on full display in the first two episodes of Walking Dead’s season five? Who would have thought that the show reveals just how mindless and vacuous we are when it comes to our own food choices? The show uncovers a seriously unfeeling and mindless hoi polli. 

Eating people is what ‘walkers’ do, though it makes little sense that they do. The ‘walkers’ shuffle about mindless in search of some flesh. They are hardly hunters in any sense—more like opportunists. Occasionally a horde overwhelms a hapless victim but out maneuvering the ‘walkers’ is not difficult in most situations. They can hardly seem capable of catching anything individually. When they do overwhelm a victim, they mindless eat until the next shinny object catches their attention. This seems very similar to our food selections. 

When is the last time you considered the plight of the food you were consuming in the car on the way to work? Or indeed the last time you ate meat? Chances are you were as mindless and vacuous as the ‘walkers.’ It was simply the next shiny objects that grabbed your attention. Little to no thought is given to the horrendous treatment of CAFO animals we eat just like the ‘walkers’ don’t consider their meal selections.  Mindless and vacuous best describes our food choices. 

However the show’s first two episodes of season five expose the sheer depravity involved in “harvesting” and eating meat.  How else can one interpret it? One might suggest that the it is different because the scenes involve cannibalism, but there is not really much of a difference.   

Our group of survivors has been captured by what has been called the “terminus” survivors at the end of last season. “No Sanctuary” starts as several of the show’s main characters—and some who are not—are being taken into a bloody butchering room and forced to kneel over a trough. Then a bat-wielding member of the terminus group viciously smashes one ‘victim’ in the back of the head rendering him unconscious. Another member then slices his throat. Blood spews into the trough. And then another victim and more blood. A brutal assembly or rather dis-assembly line.

 

This scene is unsettling and disconcerting just like it is for animals. The “kill” team goes about their business indifferent to the horrors they are inflecting. It is all too easy to become desensitized to depravity and violence. However as viewers we see just how horrible it is—we are not desensitized.  Of course, a dues ex machine or a sort saves our heroes before their bloodletting. But as they escape, they stumble through a meat locker.  Skinned human torsos and limbs are hung up to dry. The scene reminds us that we do much in the same thing to animals: we kill them in gruesome fashion; we dismember them; and we hang their discombobulated parts on hooks to dry. It is a revolting sight whether it is human or animal parts dangling from the hooks. 

Episode two, “No Strangers” continues with the gruesome and vile business of eating meat. While our group escapes the clutches of the meat-eaters of terminus, they do not kill them. As expected the remaining terminus group tracks down our group. Unlike the vacuous ‘walkers,’ they are cunning and careful hunters. As “No Strangers” ends one of our group’s members, Bob, is ambushed and knocked unconscious; he has been caught again. 

As he awakes in a haze, he is confronted by the leader of the meat-eater’s group—Gareth. Gareth lays out the gruesome plan for Bob’s group, but says it’s not personal. His group plans to eat our group. Disgusting, of course. Retching. It is not personal that he and his savage group plan to kill and eat our heroes? Not personal? We see the folly in that notion. How can it not be personal? If you take the life of someone, it is personal, about as personal as it gets, really. This is much the same way we see animals—it’s not personal that our food choices cause unimaginable suffering, terror, and horror for the billions of animals we mindless eat? It is very personal, and we simply don’t care. 

In a truly horrifying ending, Gareth describes his plan regarding the rest of the survivors as he mindless eats something—but what is it? Gareth tells Bob that he tastes good and the camera pans out to see that Bob has had his leg amputated and roasted on a fire. Gareth eats Bob in a most gruesome ending though he is not really as mindless as we are when it comes to our food choices. Gareth's group was very intention about eating meat. And he conveys as much to Bob. Gareth knows who he is. We are hardly as honest as Gareth. 

The horror of the ending underscores the barbarity of eating meat and aligns our sympathies sharply against the terminus group. We see the immorality of what the terminus group does, and it is not much of a stretch to extend those sympathies to animals treated far worse for our own food choices. Perhaps if we were reminded routinely of how CAFOs “process” their animals, we’d be more mindful instead mindless. Who knew that the “Walking Dead” was a show for vegans?

The Best TV is Better Than The Best Film.

With True Detective and now Fargo, TV's the place for top-notch, effective story telling. It used to be that film is where one went to see something interesting, innovative and inspiring-not any more. TV played it mainly safe to appeal to the largest audience. Why do people still watch Two and Half Men? Now films seem to do this and focus on spectacle sans story. Not that spectacle is a bad thing, but it is not interesting storytelling.  I'll take True Detective and Fargo over X-Men or Transformers any day.

Of course, there are some interesting things happening in film, but those are few and far between. This summer (2014) has yet to offer any interesting in film--well, at least those that I  have seen. But TV continues with excellent shows. Indeed, there are so many good ones, it is hard to keep up. I have yet to catch up with Mad Men, for example.

The short anthology and TV series offers its creator much more space to tell his/her story. So here's to the great shows on TV that have used the larger canvass to great effect: Breaking Bad, True Detective and Fargo to name a few that leap to mind. I should include Game of Thrones, too. Imagine if GoT was shoe-horned into three or four or even five films like Harry Potter of The Hunger Games? It simply won't work as well. 

Review of Walking Dead Season Two: Survival of the fittest

There are two persistent complaints about season two of The Walking Dead: Hershel’s farm and a paucity of ‘walkers.’ Neither complaint seems appropriate to me. The main criticism that I level toward season two is the inability of the characters to recognize the threat they are in and do what should be abundantly clear—team up. However, this is not to say the season did not entertain; it did. It is not to suggest that the season failed. It was a good season, and season three promises more success.

The season begins effectively with “What Lies Ahead.” The answer to “what lies ahead” reveals a bleak, harsh world that has little room for compassion, cooperation and essentially civility. The group travels along a clogged highway and eventually is forced to stop. The aftermath of the zombie apocalypse is well established in this scene.  Cars clog the highway and dead bodies, people who have met a terrible death, rot inside.

A herd of ‘walkers’ happens upon the group despite vigilant surveillance by Dale from his RV rooftop. This scene strains believability, but it does lead to an intense situation that propels the second season forward. 

Rick quickly alerts the group to scramble underneath the cars to avoid the ‘walkers.” This plan works until, Sophia, Carol’s 12-year old daughter, scrambles out before the last of the ‘walkers’ have shuffled by.  She is chased into the nearby woods by two ‘walkers’ followed by Rick. The first half of the season focuses on finding her and establishing the harsh, cold reality of this world.  

The situation with Sophia as well as the first scene in the pilot establish that nothing, even innocent children, are safe.  Typically, television shows don’t threaten children; it is simply too unpleasant and distasteful to imperil innocent children. Not so here.  

Another theme emerges with much more import in this episode and continues through Hershel’s world view—religion’s diffidence coupled with one’s reconciliation to this reality. While the group scours the countryside searching for Sophia, they stumble across a church. 

Inside the parishioners, instead of having their prayers answered, have transformed into ‘walkers.’  As they shuffle out of the pews into the nave to eat the fresh human food, Rick, Shane and Daryl, kill them with extreme prejudice. The camera cuts to a crucified Jesus, speckled with blood from his crown of thrones as members viciously hack the skulls of the dead.  The group looks toward the image of Christ and several offer prayers. None of them are answered.  Most notably, Rick’s, as he asks for a sign, some help to lead, and promptly witnesses his son shot in the very next scene. This recurring scenario occurs throughout the season—one’s expectations of hope dashed into abject horror.  

The farmer owner and patriarch Hershel revives the notion of religion still having some import in this world. He essentially sees the ‘walkers’ as sick and confides to Rick that eventually a cure will be developed. He views the current apocalypse as nothing more than nature correcting itself, and that balance will be restored; in short, part of God’s master plan. His is remarkably caviler as he articulates his point. However, Hershel’s faith is disabused by the end of season two. After he narrowly escapes the swarm of ‘walkers’ flooding his farm, he tells Rick, in a state of shock and incredulity, that when Jesus promised a resurrection of the dead, he thought it meant something different.  This is perhaps the best line of the series. Hershel is hardly a religious man as season two ends and given that no one’s prayers are answered, the show has a decidedly agnostic world view—it’s ‘survival of fittest.’

When Sophia stumbles out of the barn a ‘walker’ and Rick steps forward to shoot the child-zombie in the forehead, we clearly understand that with the exception of one character, Rick, no one is safe. The title even seems to mock the idea of Sophia surviving--“Pretty Much Dead Already.”  The scene also destroys Hershel’s faith.  

With some shows, we know that certain characters are not in jeopardy. Take True Blood, for example. While two main characters, Eric and Bill, are threatened with death if they fail a mission in a recent episode, we understand that the threat is idle. They won’t be killed, so we hardly care.  The Walking Dead creates consequences and amps the stakes up. Anyone can die, at any time, including children.

The threat to children is real in The Walking Dead.  So because there’s a serious threat to children then there’s a serious threat to humanity’s survival. Children, you have heard, are our future. Rick and Lori’s only child Carl is shot, and they debate if they should even try to save his life. The debate leads to a discussion about the type of world they think appropriate to live in. She further underscores the threat to humanity’s persistence with her pregnancy.  She contemplates aborting the child, but ultimately decides against it. Why should any couple bring new life into this world? Food for the ‘walkers’? 

The show provides juxtaposing viewpoints through two characters: Shane and Dale.  Dale represents the moral conscience of the show—the quaint notion of maintaining a sense of dignity and humanity in an otherwise stark world.  The group’s members find themselves along the continuum. Each eventually moves in one direction along it—away from Dale’s view and toward Shane’s, including Rick. 

Many found Dale’s position frustrating and hopelessly naive. I found Dale to articulate the most sensible and logical position. He argues throughout the series for civility and compassion—his impassioned defense against killing the interloper Randal demonstrates this.

Dale understands precisely what Rick does: working together with Hershel’s family on the farm is the best chance at not only survival but also ‘normalcy.’ Dale and Rick prefer cooperation with Hershel. But as the season ends, autocracy usurps cooperation—Rick’s in charge. 

Dale’s impassioned plea for Randal’s life falls on deaf hears, sans Andrea. (Andrea understands better than most, perhaps, the value of a second chance, though everyone in the group has had close calls.) And to make sure that Dale’s perspective finds little resonance moving forward, a ‘walker’ promptly eviscerates him shortly after giving his speech for civility. Dale’s position is rejected by the group and consequentially the show’s world view generally. 

On the other hand, Shane embodies ‘survival of the fittest.’ His callous killing of Otis establishes that for Shane, it’s kill or be killed. Shane believes he can do what it takes to survive—this includes killing innocent people. Shane has little patience for Dale and even Rick as they operate from a different paradigm. Shane would likely slay Hershel and commandeer the farm if it were his choice.

It is, however, the disharmony caused by Shane that ultimately spells doom for establishing a family life on Hershel’s farm. The warring alpha males, patrol partners, and life-long friends simply fail work harmoniously. The show then forwards the assumption that humans, especially males, simply can’t get along. One must be in charge and everyone else his submissive. The assumption colors the characters and their choices, but it is a world view that scarcely finds challengers.

Certainly, this idea has merit, as one looks through human history and locates spectacular and cruel conflicts. But one would be negligent not to point out human’s harmonious existence. Humans cooperate with each other and have cooperated with each other forever. In fact, were it not for our ability to cooperate, it is likely we would not have persisted. Why, then, does the show prefer to eschew harmony for survival of the fittest? Narrative conflict? 

When Rick stabs his best friend, Shane, the event for the roaming herd of ‘walkers’ to overwhelm the farm is initiated. The herd would have shuffled by the farm had Rick and Shane been able to work out their differences. There would have been no need for Carl to shoot the zombified Shane drawing the attention of the herd.  

The show kills off both Dale and Shane, and their juxtaposing positions, too. However, as season two concludes, Rick establishes authoritarianism over the group. By killing Shane, Rick becomes more like him in a sense. So while Rick may have a gentler hand in administrating his authority, Shane’s orientation to The Walking Dead world is confirmed.  

It is not all doom and gloom; there is a little sliver of hope.  Lori’s pregnancy offers this—can humanity survive? Of course, we don’t know if the child is healthy and “normal”; in other words, not a ‘walker.’ The other note of hope comes via the helicopter. 

The helicopter has appeared twice in the series: once in season one and once in season two. This suggests that some form of an organized government might still remain. If there is, then perhaps there is a safe and secure life awaiting the group. We’ll have to wait and see, but I think not.