In an addendum to Tom’s review of The Martian I mentioned that although I appreciated there being a movie that held such trust in a rational response to problem-solving, I pined for a time when the more acceptable cinematic solutions were those of chaotic-neutral variety. Well, I have good news for cinema goers with a yen for that particular streak of dark insanity. I predict that we’ll be seeing a lot more films about the failure of rational decision-making and its fruits in the future, as well as more films dispensing with rationality altogether.

Which makes Arrival in some ways already a dated movie. Much like The Martian it prizes a rational and methodical process, and places extreme trust in it winning out. This is an extremely optimistic film which, though it doesn’t take a completely unrealistic view of what problems people make for themselves, still manages to place rationality on a high pedestal. This can make it rather tough to stomach in current times. Luckily it has many other strong defining qualities, chief of which is heaviness. Cosmically heavy, intellectually heavy, thematically heavy and heavy emotionally. A potent brew for fans of being crushed by the cosmos and life on earth.

It’s best to go into Arrival pretty cold on specifics, so plot stuff I’m not really gonna get that far into. To skim, it’s primarily about language. This extends to its use of some well-learned tropes of film. Bits of dialogue and characters can seem lifted from other tested sources, which is usually a major bummer but in Arrival it proves to be an effective shorthand, off-loading tons of busy work so it can get to the big questions. It’s extremely visually inventive, replete with sweeping vistas, a hand-rolled visually-based alien language, and an incredible scene that uses seemingly only white and shades of gray.  Acting wise, Amy Adams is in the film and she rocks.

Arrival as well passes the Keanu test and is chock full of references to his films, including a sly reference to Speed. A film which in one of the great looks behind the curtain of film’s shared language, made clear that a relationship built upon a shared stressful situation may not truly be what it is. It as well shares a great deal with Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, a film whose undying optimism is based in the belief that an unmoored relationship to time’s (perceived) linear march is the secret to saving humanity’s soul. Denis Villeneuve has obviously studied Keanu’s films, and here it serves him well.

For these reasons and more, Arrival is definitely worth watching. I don’t really see how you can come out of it without at least a few new ideas. Like most films that seek to achieve such a high concept it doesn’t hit all its marks but I personally think it’s silly to ding something so ambitious that’s mostly successful. Such deliberateness can be seen as a sense of inflated purpose to some, and there’s something to be said for becoming the thing by scuttling towards its side. To become the thing through a mostly straight line though is important as well, and can be a valuable blueprint of understanding more complex and less intentional success.

I do feel it’s important to enjoy this particular strand of victory while we can, for this age of rational cinema may be ending. Films that can explore notions of post-humanity so purely and with such conviction will be heading the way of the buffalo, if only for a little bit. For that Arrival should be celebrated. A powerfully optimistic, mature and above all else, a reasoned approach to our reality. Long live rational cinema, all hail the new era and what insanity we can muster.

I went to the theater and watched it ($15.50; UA Court Street theater 12 “all the way at the top”) on the strength of Davey’s rec. Here’re some thoughts from my Corner.

(I’m never gonna say it again; please assume “Spoilers” from me from here on out on this blog.)

• It’s like a core opinion of ours that it’s worth watching dumb movies because their failures generate a kind of fun set of inquiry and experience that the movies do not directly intend or anticipate. Arrival is a textbook Good Bad Movie: though it fails to hit its own marks – it’s not a Great Film, or an Instant Sci-Fi Classic, it’s not Smart, and it’s not good at all as a Serious Movie – it’s fun to watch because it maybe accidentally hits some other points instead.
• Like uhhh if time is a construct of language, but the meaning of the alien language is only understood in translation, how does that translation act not require the inheritance of the human-language-based time-construct onto the interpretation of the pictograms. Even if Amy Adams could use the alien system to communicate human ideas, aren’t those still, ya know, human ideas.
• And like if the idea is that you can have “future memories” because time is slippery, but you’re still experiencing it in order, I guess I don’t get how this means you can also have “perfect future recall” ? Wouldn’t this be consciousness-shattering at minimum, or like, so fully altering of your reality paradigm, that being able to perform an act like the deus ex machina with the chinese general at the big party would be fundamentally impossible through all the unfiltered noise of “constantly lived” moments? Isn’t this “way more fucked up” from a functional-reality perspective than like, being in the throes of the furthest reaches of psychedelic experience?
• Or put another way, if language is software for perceiving and ordering reality, wouldn’t there be strict, blocking hardware requirements barring Amy Adams from running the pretty intense software update she I guess downloaded from the critters?
• Okay okay okay and so all that aside, does everyone have time-insensitivity in the near-ish future, or just Amy Adams, and how exactly will time-insensitivity help solve the world’s problems? And like where’s the minimum viable engagement with the metaphysical implications of future knowledge? Are the rules that “Amy Adams is unavoidably gonna tell Jeremy Renner the bad news,” or does she now know in the past not to, because it’ll make her bummed and lonely, and so she won’t? Or what.

Also =

• They truly unleashed the tropes on this one, often without bothering to change the default settings. I think Davey’s read, that this deployment of tropes was meant to intentionally reinforce the core-conceptual language stuff on a film-language meta level is extremely interesting, but, to my viewing, generous.
• The dialogue is noteworthily sewer-grade. Consider e.g. Jeremy Renner to Amy Adams: “My whole life I’ve been looking at the stars…” can you guess where this is going?!?!…. “…but the most amazing thing I found was you.”
• They make Forest Whittaker (Species, Ghost Dog, The Crying Game) say his bad dialogue with an unrecognizable accent = I’m into it
• Why did Forest Whittaker take a helicopter to Amy Adams’s house at like 5am for the followup interview, and how does a college professor live alone in a baller house on the lake.
• Good luck if you try to watch this on a laptop. Only the big screen

  

  will do the image of the giant black default avatar/Mork-egg spaceships justice.

• There’s no emotional commitment to the characters (or really any character development), and all the drama and tension is super artificial and thin; there’s the sense that someone at the top felt that this movie needed an antagonist, so several(!) antagonists were added, and they’re all thin too.
• Meanwhile the critters are 100 foot obelisks with tentacle fingers for legs/hands/mouths. They live in a room full of white smoke, that has a glass wall shaped like a movie screen (or cop mirror). But the glass wall doesn’t stop an explosion from hurting one of them, and Amy Adams goes into the white smoke room via a back entrance through a rat turd she boards, and is fine, so I didn’t really get what this staging device was all about (other than “a cost-cutting measure”).
• Amy Adams has a “crazy dream,” seemingly just to get a non-smoke room shot of a critter into the movie = I’m into it
• Compare the ship entrance corridor/critter glass screen area to the mind-cavity corridor and behind-the-eyes thing in Being John Malkovich (1999).
• I thought the movie did a lot of really obvious work, and was frustrated e.g. when Jeremy Renner said “zero-sum game” and the movie cut back to the memory tableau this phrase was a callback to. But Davey told me he thought this was fine – that a movie’s doing more narrative work frees an audience to do the work of dealing with challenging concepts. I definitely feel grated and don’t like it when any text does my reading for me, but I guess mileage varies on that one.
• All computers seemed to have an inactive terminal window open? Also I guess some government rolled their own Google Hangouts video chat replacement software, and all the different language teams around the world got permission to download and install it = hell ya I’m into this too
• Do the critters know about the Lucent Technologies logo. What about the Germs logo.

I love horror.  Real horror.  A private fantasy can be really excellent, one private fear blown up huge for all to see infecting the viewers with a new terrifying unknown.  I love a public terror.  One everyone shares.  I love it when they’ve tapped into the big one, and you know it’s always been there. Once hid well beneath the surface but now it’s here.  With us.

I love disaster.  With disaster things must first be right, and then they are wrong.  Isn’t it so good, to know right from wrong?  Of all disaster though, one kind is my favorite.  A special kind.  Where a creators intentions good hearted all, are present and on their sleeves.  A malicious glare never shown at any steps of the way.  Yet, somehow… everything still goes terribly, terribly wrong.

With films such as this I love to imagine the creeping dread that slowly manifested on the cutting room, where what was once a light hearted farce began to uncoil into a creature of abject dread.  The creators begin to see what has been wrought, but still refuse to acknowledge.  For if they did, what options would they have?  Would they be able to withstand what they have made with an honest eye?

Anything would be easier, so they smile and they nod and they tell themselves that what they have created is good.  That what they have created walks, a just path.  That although what they have created is maybe not particularly wise, that at least surely it’s good?  If that turns out not to be the case at least, once they are done then they can smile and everyone around them will smile and haven’t they all done something like this before?  Soon this be nothing but a memory.

Films like this are rare, and only for the very brave.  They will challenge ones very sense of aesthetic demolishing what is known to be enjoyable.  If one can find pleasure in such a sordid brew, does one truly deserve pleasure at all?  Perhaps there is no pleasure in this world and we are all mired in nothing but a sickening, fetid bog of other peoples confused ideas. Struggling to breathe as it pulls us under, our lungs slowly filling.  As we float downwards into nothingness free of the world we find ourselves free to ask of ourselves the big questions.  We can finally ask, did we enjoy the many minutes Kevin Spacey spends getting us to hate him?  We can ask, did we find mirth in the endless sound of distressed alien yowling?  Did we smile watching Kevin Spacey inhabit a creature both sickly familiar but unlike any we have ever seen?  And did we cry, when he said to his long suffering wife

“But I always loved you”

Or is the terror too much to handle?  The emotions too twisted and raw?  Do we strike out and refuse to give our acceptance and pity to this thing so misshapen and wrong?  We struggle to remain free to still hold onto some portion of ourselves, and eventually the vision abates.  We find ourselves sound of mind and believe ourselves to be free.  We are not.

We have been somewhere and now we know about a place.  A place where many minds have tangled together.  Where in their collective vision what they have seen is a being of pure pleasure.  The thought crosses the mind, is it us who pervert and destroy it by being witness?  Is it us, who are wrong?  What kind of cruel beings have we become?  How could we not feel for a daughters love of her father?  Is it possible we have become so cynical that nothing in the film, so full of mirth has brought us joy?  When its ends with a suicide attempt, should we not be sad?  These are the questions Nine Lives asks of those brave enough to watch.  Like the best of cinema it will shake your very belief of who you are to its core.  A sensation not very pleasant but then, worthy cinema rarely is.  

Sausage Party is the story of a young hot dog that I think we can all relate to.  After all, who among us does not wish to pierce the veil of misinformation through which we view our lives?  Who among us would not wish to pass our newfound state of enlightenment to our fellow man freeing them from the shackles of profundity?  And who among us would not wish to topple the false gods who hold us in thrall, subject to their capricious and cruel whims?   Sausage Party tackles all these questions and more.  And as some of the more astute readers among us may have noticed, Sausage Party is indeed what we’ve all been waiting for, a The Matrix, for 2016.

Our hot dog’s tale begins, much like Neo’s, trapped in a wrapper next to many of his fellow dogs, isolated from the outside world not only by his physical trappings, but by an omnipresent dogma received as sacrosanct.  The world this food lives in is one where divisions based on aisle and place of origin have grown to become an intractable part of society, and where rules passed down devoid of original purpose must be followed.  It’s important to note that these consumables lack the written word, without which they are beholden to the whims of a society in thrall to an ever shifting oral tradition.  Through this the film raises some important points about the necessity of keeping a recorded history, without which the advancement of civilization is forever in doubt.    

Our hero the hot dog, has his reverie taken from him through cruel circumstance, but while his adventure begins with the pursuit of normalizing his situation, it soon takes a detour as he runs into some colorful characters, a Twinkie, a bottle of Firewater, and a box of Grits with whom he “takes the blue pill.”

While the hot dog is becoming “woke” we are simultaneously being shown the stories of Taco, Bun, Lavosh, and Bagel on a parallel journey to try and return to what they believe is their place in the world.  Although they are able to eventually find it, they find that through unexpected misfortune, there is much to learn even if one does not desire it.  The experience separates them from their companions and leaves them although richer in knowledge poorer for no longer knowing exactly who they are, and what to believe is true.

Sausage Party spends much of its running time exploring how hot dogs and other items of food struggle to find meaning, and how constraining it can be if they prescribe too much to systems built by others.  The film keeps to this notion so strenuously that it does not recommend even its own whole-scale rejection of systems, but recommends that one find their own way.  

I enjoyed Sausage Party and have as well been enjoying pontificating over its myriad insights, but I do have a couple of reservations keeping this from being a full blown endorsement.  One is that Sausage Party is not a good title for this film.  Better would have been  “Naughty Food Adventure” or maybe, “God’s Not Dead, For These Foods.”  I as well think Keanu Reeves should have been in the movie, seeing as how much it owes to one of his pioneering works.  Hopefully that will be rectified in the sequel. Other than these grievous errors, I wholeheartedly recommend it. Sausage Party is a well constructed and thoughtful film, one which does an excellent job of “thinking outside the bun.”