Like Tears in Rain: Meditations on Science Fiction Cinema

by Alex Kane

  Meanwhile, Mendez counters this memorable bit of commentary with the later counterargument that, “I think my story’s the only thing between you and a gun to your head.” Not speaking to Siegel, in this case, but the dialogue nevertheless exists in the film’s metadramatic subtext.

  One detail about the film that struck me as supremely important is when one of the characters, probably Arkin’s, explains the significance of the title Argo as being the name of the starship in the space opera film, the vessel that carries its heroes to their ultimate destination.

  Another character insists that it’s named after the ship of the same name in Greek mythology, which was adapted into Ray Harryhausen’s legendary visual-effects spectacular Jason and the Argonauts (’63), which is a close pop-cultural cousin to the kinds of films John Chambers was making in the seventies and eighties.

  For all its historical significance, which cannot be overstated, it’s hard not to view Argoas a treatise on the grand, mythic power of science-fiction storytelling—the kind of campy, adventure-heavy epics that dominated the big screen throughout the twentieth century, culminating with Lucas’s groundbreaking Star Wars in 1977. Films like the one Mendez claimed to be working on during the Iran Hostage Crisis reflected on the sins of the long century’s many wars before ushering in a new, if all too brief, era of innocence in America.

  Nintendo’s 3DS XL

  The Innovative Handheld that Conquers with Nostalgia

  We geeks love our gadgets. Can’t live without ‘em. Granted, I have a dumbphone and a laptop—neither a tablet nor smartphone to boast of. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather own a Galaxy S-III or MacBook Air or Microsoft Surface. But unfortunately, money is sometimes a concern.

  As someone who is both a young, introverted creative-type and working-class desk jockey, I like to seek a healthy balance between experiencing all the entertainment value and storytelling fun that I can manage, and not going broke in the process.

  So of course I’m judicious about which gaming console or system I buy, or whether or not a particular film is worth the extra coin to get the collector’s edition Blu-ray as opposed to the DVD. Call it a first-world problem.

  Nintendo caught my notice when they released the remastered, 3-D version of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time for their then-brand-new 3DS handheld system, two years ago.

  Now, I’d long ago jumped ship and fallen in with the Microsoft camp, due to the massive role Bungie’s Halo franchise played in my prolonged adolescence; not since the GameCube and its handful of temptations, like Luigi’s Mansion and Wind Waker, have I paid much attention to Mario and company.

  But the Nintendo 64, from middle childhood and into my early teens, had an immeasurable impact not only on my childhood but also on the gaming demographic worldwide.

  You can meet a complete stranger, share pleasantries and smalltalk, et cetera—but you mention Ocarina of Time, Super Mario 64, Star Fox, or Goldeneye? Hell, it’s like you’ve been best friends your whole lives. You understand one another, based solely on that shared virtual experience.

  Which is a large component of the Nintendo 3DS’s appeal, at least for someone in my age group. It’s not a children’s toy—part of Nintendo’s lasting success comes from their ability to renew the same beloved characters and formulas again and again while also making their engineered experiences feel wholly new.

  And with the 3DS XL, they take that business strategy and hit one light-years outside the park.

  The system features a five-inch primary screen with three adjustable positions, for maximum comfort; a large piece of sturdy, utilitarian hardware that manages to feel weightless in your hands; and a simple nine-button control layout, with directional pad or “d-pad,” a sliding disc-shaped joystick, and an additional touchscreen-and-stylus combo that feels strikingly intuitive.

  The beauty of its design, however, is that they actually manage to make the 3-D gimmick work.

  Without need of specialized glasses or anything else obtrusive, the 3DS and its big brother the XL utilize glassless three-dimensional technology that looks stunning yet natural.

  Characters like Mario and environments like the Hyrule Field overworld are rendered in such a way that the added third dimension doesn’t distract from the gaming experience; instead, it’s just a means of giving greater depth and emphasis to key objects within the world of the game.

  And aside from great secondary features like a built-in camera, four-gigabyte replaceable SD card, and downloadable apps like Netflix (free) and various classic games from the Nintendo eShop (cheap), the 3DS-specific cartridges are the obvious heart of the device.

  My game library is small but somewhat diverse, at this point: The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Fire Emblem: Awakening, Super Mario 3D Land, and Paper Mario: Sticker Star. I’ve got Luigi’s Mansion: Dark Moon pre-ordered through my local GameStop, as well.

  While Ocarina of Time has proven to be a potent gateway drug back into the Nintendo-verse, as I’d hoped it would, games like Fire Emblem: Awakening and Super Mario 3D Land showcase the system’s true gameplay potential. The marriage of simple, classic game mechanics like turn-based strategic combat modes and stellar, 3-D presentation highlights the untapped power of dedicated handheld consoles—despite the recent, gradual takeover of iOS and Android apps in the mobile gaming arena.

  Django Unchained

  A Brief Word

  I thought Django Unchained was one of the ballsiest, most badass flicks I’ve seen in ages—significantly more mature, artful, and honest than Tarantino’s own Inglorious Basterds, I’d argue. Its unflinching portrayal of the abysmal acts committed against an entire race of people for centuries is beyond commendable in its pursuit of exposing the ugliness beneath America’s blood-soaked rug.

  Christoph Waltz is dazzling, sure, and Samuel L. Jackson is rightfully one of America’s most beloved performers . . . but in my mind, it’s Foxx who steals the show, hands down.

  His delivery of every line, every avenging gunshot, every angry glance marks him as a criminally underappreciated actor whose career includes roles like Max in Collateral, one of my all-time favorites by the incomparable Michael Mann, and a host of others, including his Academy Award-winning portrayal of Ray Charles in the aptly-titled Ray.

  Don’t let me get carried away with my naive, young, white-privilege-havin’ self; I’m not gonna pretend to know what this film means to an African-American in the twenty-first century. If it angers people of color, so be it. Slavery was this country’s greatest sin.

  But I have to say, I think Quentin Tarantino is a master storyteller with guts, craft, and a filmgoer’s eye like nobody’s business.

  Let them call the film historically inaccurate; let them call it overblown. Maybe there’s a touch of misogyny at play? Maybe. But nobody can rightfully call it a half-assed film without passion behind its angry message. Sure, maybe gunfights aren’t what this country needs to get to the answers, but if it catches people’s attention at the movie-theater doors, let Tarantino have his fun with the great American mythos at the heart of the Spaghetti Western. I think the real takeaway is clear: We’re all loving, passionate human beings with complicated pasts and aspirations for the future, and slavery was the antithesis of human existence.

  It was a war against the unarmed. A coward’s mad scheme played out across history like a scar on the face of the world.

  So, let’s never forget it. If we’re gonna deal with vengeance, murder, and casual violence in our art until the end of time, as seems certain, we might as well couple that ugliness—the ugliness of the bloodthirsty present—with the crimes of our past.

  Ain’t no harm in education. If this film angers people, then Tarantino’s probably just pointing us in the right direction.

  The Lost Vamps

  Bloodthirsty Flicks that Actually Don’t Suck

  Vampire flicks have been all the rage since Twilight flooded the box office with sticky, coppery crimson in ’08, and have proven a solid mon
eymaking strategy ever since, with each of the saga’s four sequels averaging about three hundred million dollars per film, according to IMDb’s Box Office Mojo.

  But for some of us—and I don’t mean to suck a dead horse dry, here—the vampire genre represents so much more than just antiquated notions of traditional marriage and sparkling demon lovers. For the horror junkie, it’s hard to enjoy a vampire film without anything scary going on in it.

  So, based on the assumption that I’m not alone in feeling that a vampire movie ought to be frightening, subversive, and a tad allegorical, here are my top ten favorites from the last half-century or so.

  In no particular order:

  10. Bordello of Blood (1996)

  This edgy, less than perfect exploitation flick is at turns scary, hilarious, sexy, and downright absurd—but it’s never boring. Not even for a moment. Some young men looking for love in all the wrong places find themselves at the mercy of prostitutes who turn out to be vampires. Erika Eleniak and Dennis Miller lend their talents to a mostly unremarkable cast. The ending’s a letdown, but don’t let that keep you from enjoying the rest of this campy classic. Oh, yeah—and Corey Feldman’s bad-boy performance is a nice nod to his role in another, far more brilliant vampire film. . . .

  9. The Lost Boys (1987)

  Saw this one when I was a kid, maybe six or seven years old. Cable television in the ’90s was a gateway to all kinds of terrifying concepts my half-formed imagination wasn’t quite ready for. Seeing it again in my early twenties, far more interested in Jamie Gertz, the film’s true emotional center for reasons that may be too spoilerific to give away, this time around; parsing the film’s homoerotic (and maybe slightly homophobic?) subtext for the first time; and coming to grasp the significance of drinking another man’s blood in an eighties film, at the height of the AIDS epidemic . . . it’s an experience worth treasuring. You’re sure to love it. And I’ll undoubtedly remember the line, “How’re those maggots?” for the rest of my life. (“Maggots, Michael. You’re eating maggots. How do they taste?”)

  8. Let Me In (2010)

  This chilling treatise on both the problem of bullying and budding adolescent sexuality is a profoundly disturbing piece of filmmaking, and for that I’d call it an achievement. Like all great works of horror, it examines real-world problems through the lens of nightmarish fantasy; specifically, an inhuman monstrosity in the context of an already bleak worldview. For young Owen, a kind young girl appears the best possible sanctuary from the harshness of middle school—even if she subsists on human blood alone.

  7. The Night Flier (1997)

  While not the best Stephen King horror adaptation out there—I’d say The Shining (’80), Carrie (’76), and The Mist (’07) have that title under contention—this HBO movie scores high enough on the scare factor, considering its low budget. Miguel Ferrer is truly mesmerizing as a tabloid reporter on the hunt for an airport serial killer whose reflection can’t be found in the mirror. If you’re looking to have a good, heart-thumping nightmare, this made-for-TV film’ll do the trick.

  6. Once Bitten (1985)

  This vampire comedy finds a young Jim Carrey showing up at his high school’s Halloween dance looking pale and gaunt, having been seduced and transubstantiated at the hands of a lusty, immortal cougar. A bit campy, as comes with the territory, but as entertaining a film as you’re likely to stumble upon on cable television these days. Included more for its fun factor than its literary brilliance, admittedly.

  5. Dark Shadows (2012)

  Johnny Depp breaks out his penchant for tongue-in-cheek humor in this very Burtonesque flick by Tim Burton. While the film puts much of its energy into a messy romantic subplot or two, not to mention its heavy-handed reliance on nostalgia, its best moments are when it whips out the occasional horror element: the casual slaughter of innocents, the transformation of a young werewolf, the shattered porcelain visage of a spurned, dying witch. . . .

  4. Interview with the Vampire (1994)

  While Brad Pitt’s incomparable voiceover drives the narrative of this modern classic, I think it’s Tom Cruise and a young Kirsten Dunst who give the film its eerie atmosphere and pervasive sense of despair. Even as Louis (Pitt) bemoans the torment that comes with an unending life in a world of mortals, it is Cruise’s performance as Lestat that drives the point home. We see a madman in agony, burned to the ground by Louis and Claudia (Dunst) and then risen from the ashes—a beautiful monster made ugly. An imperfect film, sure, but an epic one worth your time.

  3. I Am Legend (2007)

  Will Smith delivers what is arguably the best performance of his career in this dismal look at a post-apocalyptic urban America stalked by mindless, nocturnal vampires. It’s the kind of film that gets better with age, probably because of its “downer” ending, but serves as a celebration of human courage and triumph despite its depressing juxtaposition of happy memories from the protagonist’s past with a dark, hopeless present. Like Darabont’s The Mist (’07), I’d argue that its power and resonance comes from its ending, despite common consensus.

  2. ’Salem’s Lot (1979)

  While the paperback’s been on my shelf for some time, this is one of the few early King novels I haven’t read yet—but the made-for-TV flick it spawned takes the ingenious premise of its source material and provides some of the most authentic scares I’ve ever experienced from a conventional vampire film. Don’t miss it.

  1. From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

  Anybody who enjoyed Robert Rodriguez’s jaw-dropping Planet Terror (’07) or Once Upon a Time in Mexico (’03) will discover that this film is the one they’ve been looking for their whole lives. Boasting an early script by Quentin Tarantino and set in a desert roadhouse called The Titty Twister, the story follows George Clooney and Tarantino as a pair of criminal brothers, who kidnap a family on their journey into Mexico, hoping to escape the law. The ruthless pair soon find themselves in the maw of a vampire stronghold built atop . . . well, I’ll let you see that one for yourself. From the opening credits to its stunning final frame, this is as fine a vampire film as horror aficionados are likely to encounter in this lifetime.

  David Fincher’s Alien 3

  A Contemporary Classic that Most People Hate, but from Which We May Well Learn Much About the Fragile Art of Storytelling

  According to my extensive academic research over at Wikipedia this afternoon, the third installment in Fox’s Alien Quadrilogy (’Cause why use the word tetralogy, right? What a lousy word!) went through development hell for several years, and despite the criticism it’s received since from longtime fans and critics alike, it should’ve ended up a much worse film than we actually ended up with. It ain’t as good as Scott’s original classic, granted, or Cameron’s ’86 sequel Aliens—nor as good as Prometheus, which I happened to enjoy a great deal—but it’s sure as hell better than that money-grab atrocity dubbed Alien Resurrection.

  But I’m building up a modest library of Blu-ray films, including Alien and its first two sequels, and I couldn’t resist the chance to finally revisit David Fincher’s directorial debut, over ten years later.

  Now, for some reason, I’d gotten it into my young head long ago that Alien 3 wasn’t worth my time; that it was dismal and offensive and, well, trash. Like that friggin’ stinker Resurrection, I guess. But that really isn’t the case—it’s actually quite a decent film, when you overlook its status as a lackluster sequel to two of the most beloved science-fiction movies of the twentieth century.

  (Sidebar: This is a phenomenon I usually refer to as Raiders Syndrome: Even if Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom had been a masterpiece of cinema, far superior to the original, it still would’ve had its detractors, swearing up and down that it wasn’t as good as Raiders. There’s always somethin’ special about firsts.)

  It lacks the “science” element that you’d prefer to find in a film with a title like Alien 3, granted, but when viewed as a standalone horror film, it’s not all that bad. Really. It’s got most of the
trademark Fincher-isms that we recognize from such great pictures as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Se7en, Zodiac, and Fight Club: moral ambiguity, (incredibly) flawed characters, visceral grit, existential atmosphere, and an unflinching gaze at the hostility that exists in our world (universe?), like it or not. Excellent cinematography, too, if one can forgive the lack of screen time allocated to the creature itself and the primitive CGI employed in bringing it to life.

  (Additional sidebar: Over ten years ago, the first time I saw the film, I watched the 1992 theatrical release on VHS. This time around, I opted for the studio’s 2003 special-edition “Assembly Cut” of the film, in stellar Blu-ray high definition. The extended cut does more than toss in additional footage to flesh out the inmate characters; it also harms certain key plot points from the original, such as the origin of the quadrupedal alien variant, and the chest-bursting scene that made the ending so dramatic the first go-round. Watch ’em both, when you can, but go with Fincher’s 1992 cut the first time you watch the film.)

  Despite it being not-that-terrible, however, Alien 3 catches a lot of flak for being, well, less than great. In the scope of the first three installments of the franchise, yes, it’s a disappointment . . . but for anyone who’s seen Alien vs. Predator, AvP: Requiem, or Alien Resurrection, Alien 3 really ought to seem like a goddamn masterpiece. . . .

  So what exactly can we learn from it?