The year got off to a flying start with Mars Attacks! (1996). Tim Burton’s films tend to fall into either of two categories – weird, but solid commercial cinema, or truly bizarre labours of love – both of which bear the markings of his inimitable style. But the personal films, although generally better, never seem to succeed at the Box Office. Mars Attacks! was intended to fall into the former category, but inadvertently leapt into the latter with a gleeful thud. Based on a series of Bubblegum Cards from the 1950s, this is a sick and audacious stormer of a film. The Martians decide to conquer the Earth – ‘Nice Planet – We’ll Take It’- which is just what they do. They have no sense of morality, there is no justification for the attack and certainly no chance of an apology. This sets the agenda for a relentless assault of sick visual skits as pious humans, particularly those in power, attempt to ‘embrace’ and ‘welcome’ a new culture, and the Martians simply torture or destroy everything in their path.
Although there is no real need for a storyline, attention to the human element is focused on a small number of characters, typical Burtonesque misfits, scattered across America, who eventually pull through and stop the invasion by the most bizarre means yet devised in such a film. Burton always challenges what is socially acceptable, and characters portrayed as ‘normal’ are invariably the bad guys of the piece; indeed, in this film their respective demises provide some of the most satisfying comedy sequences. It is the unusual, the unacceptable, the awkward that triumphs; all the heroes are lacking in some way. Many of the top actors were simply dying (Jack Nicholson, twice) to get involved with the project, often appearing in little more than cameo roles.
The most important element of this film, however, lies in its manic pace, sheer nerve and downright silliness. This is reflected in the Martians themselves. They have enormous heads, pathetically puny bodies (with rather fetching red underpants), manic eyes, inane grins and, although computer generated, move as though they have been animated in a stop motion style (a tribute to Ray Harryhausen) which somehow makes them appear less virtual and their interaction with the human characters more convincing and sinister. They stole the show and, in an age where society is becoming increasingly moral, it was absolutely great to see a film which displayed total disregard for nineties sensibilities in favour of the bizarre, the irreverent and the manic.
Star Wars: A New Hope (1977) was possibly one of the most influential science-fiction films ever made. Years in the planning with dozens of rewrites of the script, Star Wars was always destined to be great because it had a powerful story, sympathetic but not necessarily virtuous heroes, terrifyingly evil villains, revolutionary special effects and a certain, indefinable sense of wonder. Which is why it didn’t need to be tarted up with CGI. Sure, the restoration was a joy; the print gleamed and the sound was spectacular, but the addition of extra scenes and a formerly prohibitively expensive Jabba the Hut, created in no time by the miracles of modern technology, detracted from the work’s force (if you will), which was that it was a Ripping Yarn of the very best sort.
The Empire Strikes Back (1980), however, did benefit from its restoration. It was the transitional film, where the ‘action’ climax occurred at the beginning and the ending contained one of the most exciting revelations in cinema history, yet left everything so painfully and unsatisfactorily unresolved. It is rare to see this in any film, particularly one that was guaranteed commercial success, but it is because of this that it remains the most powerful of the trilogy. [Director Kevin Smith presumably agrees: ‘Empire had the better ending. Luke loses his hand and finds out Vader is his father. Han is frozen and captured by Boba Fett. It ends on such a down note. Just like in real life. All Jedi had was a bunch of Muppets.’ Clerks (1994) — Eds].
Return of the Jedi (1981) never had the impact of its predecessors. It was the film where everything was resolved for good and, although well made, it never captured the dark hopelessness of the former two at any time. This was not helped by the Ewoks who were just too damned cute for the film’s good. Adding extra minutes of ‘family entertainment’ into the restoration was the final insult.
Still, it was wonderful to have the opportunity to see the films on the big screen once more, and they were introduced to a new generation, which can’t be a bad thing. It also conveniently sets the publicity machine moving for the three long-awaited prequels which are currently in production…
Stuart Gordon’s Space Truckers (1997) slipped in and out of the multiplexes so quickly last Summer that you could be forgiven for missing its presence, which is great pity as it was one of the highlights of the year. Ditching any attempt to be treated as serious, Space Truckers hurls you from one ludicrous set piece to the next without pausing for tea. Dennis Hopper plays the good guy for a change and for once does not overshadow all in his wake; as John Canyon his job is about as unglamorous as it gets – transporting genetically enhanced pork products for InterPork around the galaxy stopping only to lunch out in greasy intergalactic highway service stations. Life, as we suspect, does not rest in this cosy existence, oh no. Mr Canyon has to leave behind the high gloss world of piggy snacks and get on with saving the galaxy aided only by hitch hikers Mike (Stephen Dorff) and Cindy (Debi Mazar). With his space truck at the ready, our illustrious heroes do battle with high finance, nasty BMWs (Bio-Mechanical Warriors) and the Regalia, a massive jet black (light just falls off it…) pirate ship.
What sets Space Truckers apart from the normal sf spoof is that it treats its subject seriously, but not the action. Zero gravity is just that (achieved here with subtle wire work courtesy of Koichi Sakamoto of A Chinese Ghost Story fame), vacuum quite literally sucks and things look, well, grimy. All of this makes for a believable and coherent setting, which makes the appearance of arch villain Captain Macanudo (Charles Dance in a Ming the Merciless beating performance) all the more amusing. Captain Macanudo’s outrageous double entendres and pneumatic penis make for one of the screens most bizarre baddies, a sort of RoboCodpiece. It is this gung ho pace that creates a real Saturday Morning Serial appeal. This is not to say that the effects have in any way been compromised, far from it. Attention to detail is high throughout, the screen crammed with lurid advertising, groups of vicious ‘keep left’ signs and intergalactic highway beacons.
Highly recommended for good, solid fun. Rent a copy today or, better still, hope it comes around at a rep cinema near you.
Words cannot accurately reflect the travesty that was The Lost World: Jurassic Park. The film had only its special effects to recommend it, and this is a very poor substitute for quality film making. Spielberg has shown in the past how adept he is at controlling composition, suspense and sympathetic characterisation, but all these skills have been sharply curtailed to give us a rambling, overblown, incoherent mess of a film. There is little sense of the wonder that enthused in ET – the Extraterrestrial (1982) or Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), none of the adrenaline of the Indiana Jones films and none of the suspense of Duel (1971) or Jaws (1975). The script is atrocious, its laughable attempts at political correctness are cringeworthy and the foreshadowing juvenile, the characterisation is defined by stereotypes and the action, for want of a better term, is formulaic and unconvincing. And then there is the acting. Dear old Dicky Attenborough should stick to directing crowd scenes. Jeff Goldblum alternates between Brandoesque mumblings and ‘gee whiz’ hyper scientist. The only redeeming performance comes from Vanessa Lee Chester as the child interest; a wonderful career ahead of her, she is shot by the starting pistol. The camerawork too, is lacklustre and ineffectual; it is currently trendy to use handheld camerawork to emphasise dynamism and audience point of view participation, but even this is sloppy and confusing and appears to have been sprinkled randomly throughout the proceedings without due attention to necessity.
Individual lowlights included the sadistic and extended pursuit/torture of an unsympathetic character ending in an off-screen ‘money shot’ with what looks suspiciously like CGI blood in the water; a ludicrous van over the cliff with tyrannosaurus sketch that obliterates credibility; a pointless King Kong rampage scene, much touted but ultimately very dull; and finally a totally inadequate ‘bad guy come upance’ scene.
To be fair, the effects were spectacular and Stan Winston’s latex dinosaurs superb, far more organic than their (admittedly impressive) CGI counterparts. Even the music lacked the avant garde primal dominance of its predecessor. In conclusion The Lost World: Jurassic Park is like censored pornography: it satisfies no-one.
Men In Black (1997) was the surprise hit of the year, mainly due to the fact that all the ‘Summer Blockbusters’ were either too chicken to compete with other releases or too crap even for the studio’s generated hype to drum up business (Batman and Robin, for example, an classic example of a budget blown on actors [Schwarzenegger, Clooney and even O’Donnell, Silverstone and Thurman] and effects, and nobody thought to buy a plot). A short, snappy little number, Men In Black pairs up (Will) Smith and (Tommy Lee) Jones as the secret government agents that oversee the activities of real illegal aliens, that is, tourists from other worlds.
Its attempt at plausibility works well, most aliens can cunningly disguise themselves in human form, and any unsuspecting soul who inadvertently comes across such a being in its ‘natural state’ can receive a memory wipe, thus dealing with any associated trauma. Earth seems to be a popular place to visit and in general the aliens are well behaved. However, there are always some irritating tourists that give the rest a bad name and one has decided to run riot in someone else’s body. Add the mystery of a missing galaxy and things start to get strange…
So, the day has to be saved and there are only two men qualified to do it. Cue the visual gags (particularly where aliens are concerned), hi-tech gadgets and military hardware, with time for some (but not a vast amount) of love interest. Narrative is not an issue here, there’s no need for any deep meaning philosophy; it’s simply a licence for the film-makers to go mad with their imagination and humour. Which is basically what they did.
The concept was good and the film was enjoyable to watch, but bearing in mind the material available, could have been quite a bit more manic. It suffered from a very fast paced trailer, which gave away all the best jokes and indeed the ending.
David Lynch’s Lost Highway (1997) falls into familiar love or loathe territory. On board for a second outing is writer Barry Gifford, who scripted Lynch’s Wild At Heart (1990), and it is clear that the two of them work exceptionally well together. Gifford’s books explore the minutia of every character’s existence, they are all given equal weight and suitably bizarre idiosyncrasies, nothing is extraneous. Similarly Lynch’s films enjoy exploring the surreal details of everyday life and extending them to absurdity. They also share a similar love of macabre humour and the satisfaction of coincidence.
In Lost Highway the main protagonist, Fred Madison, is accused of the brutal murder of his wife following the appearance of voyeuristic videotapes that have brought him to the brink of paranoia. But this is no Hitchcockian ‘innocent man on the run’ film. Fred is confused, persecuted and watched, he is placed in prison, and there he becomes his younger self, or someone else, or mad. Lynch brings on his supporting cast like a ringmaster – Mr Eddy the rich pornographer with a novel way of reinforcing the Highway Code, the Mystery Man with his schizophrenic mobile phone and Mr Eddy’s girlfriend, complete with slow-mo diffusion and hug-me-tight fetishistic sweater. All the characters have a comfortingly familiar air; Lynch relaxes with them and eases their situations out deliberately and thoughtfully. Where this differs from his previous works is the total denial of structural realism and its replacement with mental realism – in this case the mental realism of a man beyond the edge. Changing a main character half way through a film is an audacious step; not even to be aware how much this new character is even new, stretches audience acceptance. As usual, Lynch does not compromise to win over new friends.
We are only allowed to see one world and it is incredibly strange – the (relatively few) deaths become more surreal and, perversely, more believable. The final truths are hard to cope with, obtuse and repellent.
In terms of cinematography the film excels – hyperfast blurry roads, effortless cranes, gorgeous close-up focusing and macabre lighting, the very essence of a cinematic experience. The contrast at times is very low with dark reds dripping against blacks on a wide screen.
Also of note is the astonishing soundtrack, Badalamenti (Lynch’s regular composer) delivers some of his sleaziest, laid back jazz/easy yet, which perfectly counterpoints the more driving industrial/metal on offer, here mixed by Trent Raznor of Nine Inch Nails fame.
Certainly not to everyone’s taste and in many respects an enormously difficult film to watch, but a fascinating, surreal and disturbing experience.
After a couple of false starts, John Woo finally has a Hollywood film under his belt that can stand alongside his astonishing Hong Kong films without shame and that film is Face/Off. Nicholas Cage is Castor Troy, evil, charismatic and treacherous. John Travolta is clean living Sean Archer, a police officer dedicated to hunting down Troy, who killed his son. The stage is set, and it’s operatic.
As is usual for a Woo film everything is larger: coats billow in loving slow motion, bodies fly through the air with choreographed grace, there’s beautiful imagery (The Killer’s doves and church resurface [1989]) and most importantly the deep, deep emotion dominates. Face/Off (1997) takes the Prince and the Pauper principle, perverts it and mixes in Franju’s Yeux Sans Les Visage (1959) (which being obscure and French clearly has no place on these hallowed pages [see David Lewis’s letter in Vector 197 and responses in this issue — Eds) to see Travolta’s good guy physically becoming Cage’s bad guy, and visa versa. All of this would seem a little far fetched were it not for the skill of both the actors and director, Travolta as Cage playing Travolta is remarkable and chilling, he wins his way into his new ‘family’ by charm and subversion, Cage does not have it so easy, stuck in prison as a man he is not, he is subjected to magnetic boots, unruly prisoners/guards and threats of lobotomy.
The world created is clearly defined, futuristic in every sense and yet contemporary enough to be recognisable, this is pure science fiction combined with Woo’s masterful action packed direction.
Science Fiction is an incredibly popular genre at the moment. So many films were produced last year that it was virtually impossible to select which to write about and there just has to be an ‘Honourable Mentions Section’.
Peter Jackson’s The Frighteners (1996) was strange and satisfying, a combination of fun and gore. It was certainly the most commercial of Jackson’s films to date, but hugely enjoyable.
The biggest spectacle produced was Luc Besson’s The Fifth Element (1997). Visually stunning, it created a bizarre world, beautifully designed but the film was ultimately flawed by casting.
Abel Ferrera created a small, but thoughtful black and white vampire film called The Addiction (1995).
Cronenberg’s and Ballard’s respective talents finally come together with Crash (1996), a simultaneously beautiful and repellent study of sex and the automobile.
Event Horizon (1997) was a nasty horror film set in space. Slick, sick and nauseous.
Alien: Resurrection (1997) suffered from having to carry the baggage of the previous films despite a worthy directing attempt from Jean Pierre Jeunet. Close, but no cigar.
So, a good year for sf films? Certainly from a Hollywood perspective – science fiction is definitely in fashion, the genre being a perfect medium for big budgets, fast action and special effects. It was interesting to see some of the well-respected directors, such as David Lynch, John Woo and Abel Ferrera making sf films and they have proved that it is possible to produce genre films that are intelligent and challenging, not simply packed with effects. Science-fiction comedy/spoof was also a big feature of 1997 and produced some truly enjoyable films.
