Skip to main content

Jurassic World


I felt sorry for the monster in this film as soon as I knew this movie would not base its appeal on introducing something new, but in showing itself in opposition to something so monstrously presumptuous, and in curdling back in the lap of already laid out accomplishment in rapturous fealty. The movie begins in suggesting that crowds of viewers were beginning to be bored by just plain dinosaurs, and profit required new, dazzling creations; brazen, even criminally bold, experimentation. But what we feel as we use members of this crowd as our avatars is not exactly boredom but the pleasure in being bored at something that really should bedazzle. We wonder for a moment if a real Jurassic Park was created, if, simply by our experience of watching the films, we might feel so grand — accomplished — to be a bit blasé at the sight of even reptile titans! This is a feeling to want to loiter in, lounge in, not necessarily to cast off quickly to once again be innocents to the unknown. 

The kids use their VIP status to stray outside the permitted areas, but the sequence that follows isn’t exactly unaccustomed to us: the big scary new dinosaur locks her jaws around the vehicle the kids are strapped to; they release their attachment to the vehicle, letting it preoccupy itself for a moment with the now peopleless contraption in her mouth; and then they move a few hundred steps before braving a cliff-jump into a body of water: in short, its the sequence out of Avatar, when Jake Sully sheds his antagonist, the giant cat monster, who equally as much as this dinosaur also takes a few very close snipes at her prey, risks a bit falling over the cliff herself, as they descend out of reach into the rapids and water. Those thirsting the new should be put off when they’re offered a theme park recreation of a scene made famous elsewhere. Those who don’t really want to stray, those who want to acquaint themselves as extensions of, as properties of, previous greats, would however thrill: they get to go on a chase into the great unknown without any feeling at all that what they’re also doing is abandoning others’ labours. They fled Jurassic into the lap of Avatar. One mother frets losing her children but feels salve in seeing they haven’t found recluse on their own, in self-autonomy, but rather in the lap of another mom.

There’s a short delay before the next great mark of fealty, some filler: a squadron of escaped reptile “birds” laser their interest at fleeing pedestrians, and so we are greeted to a revisit of the scene in Mission Impossible, where a blade — this time the reptile bird’s supinely sharp beak — comes within a hair of dispatching our momentarily caught out protagonist. Then finally our reward of being so partizan to past creations, past greats, who we imagine now not feverishly creating but, like dallying monarchs, basking in a landscape they’ve made their own … and so of course it makes sense that all the awesome meanies in the original film are actually our “friends”: T-Rex and the raptors team up as irritants and capable distractions, to this movie’s monster’s ultimate doom. The monster tried to telepathy the raptors onto her side. But what is a new spun power by an outsider pretending to distinction, when “they’ve” idiotically emerged into a landscape where every peasant met is so eagerly in the mood to taunt, “oh yeah, just see what our bad mamma can do!,” and to see Her riposte as devastating even if in truth it’s spittle to the newly emergent’s torrent. 

The great beast in this movie was doomed by being waged at the very beginning as being something truly new, something cemented in our estimation of her as she tricked her captors into believing she’d climbed her way out of her enclosure — something which suggested she had insight into the particular concerns of her captors: they had previously been fretting the wall’s perhaps insufficient height. Of being able, like the film’s Indiana Jones character is supposed to be capable of, to foresee possibilities that no one else had countenanced. She was doomed by an avenue of life the film wanted granted her, the exhilarating, open-ended one of freely determining exactly where she fits in the food chain, by granting no automatic status to anyone she meets but rather to succumb everyone to being testable and possibly dispatch-worthy: no way to cement a previously established social order this! past kings will fall! commercial people will displace aristocrats! anarchy and a new order!


So this poor sucker, sodden with everything that would exhilarate a sane, non-regressing society, as something to behold, becomes amongst the audience flocking to this film something to cheer being methodically sacrificed. For what is this film than the new idea being bated, bit by bit, one dumb dinosaur herbivore “breadcrumb” after one dumb dinosaur herbivore “breadcrumb,” closer and closer into a giant sacrificial Mesosaurus pit? It’s bright homo sapiens (I had hoped they’d crossed the dinosaur’s genes with maybe Einstein’s, which looked a bit the case at first) lured into a sea where a giant stupid orifice — a shark — can arrogantly presumptuously make a giant casual snack of it. A true tragedy, to be enjoyed only by those who project madly onto the orifice, someone who would hug his mother’s girth as if it was the grandest thing in the world, even while at the door is an invite that would take little him or her closer to something that smacks of adult interest.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Superimposing another "fourth-wall" Deadpool

I'd like to superimpose the fourth-wall breaking Deadpool that I'd like to have seen in the movie. In my version, he'd break out of the action at some point to discuss with us the following:
1) He'd point out that all the trouble the movie goes to to ensure that the lead actress is never seen completely naked—no nipples shown—in this R-rated movie was done so that later when we suddenly see enough strippers' completely bared breasts that we feel that someone was making up for lost time, we feel that a special, strenuous effort has been made to keep her from a certain fate—one the R-rating would even seemed to have called for, necessitated, even, to properly feed the audience expecting something extra for the movie being more dependent on their ticket purchases. That is, protecting the lead actress was done to legitimize thinking of those left casually unprotected as different kinds of women—not as worthy, not as human.   


2) When Wade/Deadpool and Vanessa are excha…

"The Zookeeper's Wife" as historical romance

A Polish zoologist and his wife maintain a zoo which is utopia, realized. The people who work there are blissfully satisfied and happy. The caged animals aren't distraught but rather, very satisfied. These animals have been very well attended to, and have developed so healthily for it that they almost seem proud to display what is distinctively excellent about them for viewers to enjoy. But there is a shadow coming--Nazis! The Nazis literally blow apart much of this happy configuration. Many of the animals die. But the zookeeper's wife is a prize any Nazi officer would covet, and the Nazi's chief zoologist is interested in claiming her for his own. So if there can be some pretence that would allow for her and her husband to keep their zoo in piece rather than be destroyed for war supplies, he's willing to concede it.

The zookeeper and his wife want to try and use their zoo to house as many Jews as they can. They approach the stately quarters of Hitler's zoologist …

"Life" as political analogy, coming to you via Breitbart News

Immediately after seeing the film, I worked over whether or not the movie works as something the alt-right would produce to alienate us from the left. Mostly the film does work this way  -- as a sort of, de facto, Breitbart production -- I decided, though it's not entirely slam-dunk. There is no disparagement evident for the crew of the space station being a multicultural mix, for instance. Race is not invisible in the film; it feels conspicuous at times, like when the Japanese crew member is shown looking at his black wife on video conference; but the film maker, wherever he was actually raised, seems like someone who was a longtime habitat of a multicultural milieu, some place like London, and likes things that way. But the film cannot convince only as macabre relating to our current fascination with the possibility of life on Mars -- what it no doubt pretends to be doing -- because the idea of “threat” does not permeate this interest at all, whereas it absolutely saturates our …