Auxiliary member, the Broadcast Film Critic's Association
The Hollywood Beat
Andy Culpepper created, produced and hosted the weekly satellite television entertainment program, The Hollywood Beat, which aired from 2005 to 2007 covering entertainment topics from film to music to books and more. Andy continues to own the companion website, TheHollywoodBeat.com.
AVATAR: A Face for the Ages
HOLLYWOOD (THB) -- Half a century ago, Joseph Campbell wrote that the hero wears a thousand faces. In the film with the monstrous budget – the live action/animated Avatar – the face count adds up to two, and one of those faces is decidedly blue with luminescent freckles.
The electronic game and cyber worlds have given us a skewed definition of what an avatar represents, but the original meaning from the Sanskrit translates “one who crosses over.”
In James Cameron’s blockbuster return to feature films, the one who crosses over would be his protagonist Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a marine who loses the use of his legs during a tour of combat in – what else – an oil-producing country the government of which is hostile to these United States. But Sully does not give up the good fight. He’s back on duty, albeit piloting a wheel chair – in this story, an alarmingly primitive conveyance, one glaringly and most likely intentionally anachronistic given the action set so far in the future.
Expository revelations unfold in the plot of Avatar in rat-a-tat fashion from the movie’s outset. Cameron serves up far more than feats of derring-do scattered among his typical array of patented visually-stunning special effects: With a line here and there, the director makes a well-wrought point worth noting – in Avatar, he has something to say that should be taken for more than face value, blue or otherwise.
Make no mistake: the Titanic filmmaker who famously proclaimed himself the “king of the world” from Oscar’s main stage has fashioned a movie one part myth, one part adventure and all parts message. Never mind the Hollywood bromide about calling Western Union: Cameron doesn’t need a telegram, or a carrier pigeon, or even an overnight special delivery package. This tech-savvy storyteller lets his medium carry the message from start to finish, plot point by plot point.
As Avatar opens, Jake has rejoined his marine buddies who head through space toward an Earth-like moon called Pandora where natives are restless and resources are plentiful. One raw material in particular, the not-so-subtly-named ore, unobtainium, can be found only on Pandora and only in one conspicuous location. Cameron – who penned the script – may have employed such klutzy wordplay to tweak the sensibilities of those who may not share in his out-of-this-world view. This is undeniably a love letter to the environment.
Unobtainium is so valuable to the population of a dying planet (Earth), the marines land full force to shore up a commercial enterprise’s efforts to get the job done. But first the invading military/industrial duopoly must tolerate a little science in the name of good public relations. Sound familiar?
Jake’s assignment on Pandora straddles two sides of this divide: He’ll take the place of his dead identical twin, a scientist scheduled for a six-year deployment in the body of an avatar – a lab-grown DNA hybrid of his late brother – so that he can fit in among the natives, his consciousness embedded in the body of a Na’vi lookalike. Meantime, Jake will do covert double duty: He’ll report his findings to the badass colonel of the marine unit charged with making certain the scientists don’t let diplomacy stand in the way of their mission -- loading up on buckets and buckets of that prized unobtainium.
From the moment that Jake has his first not-quite-cute meet with a Na’vi maiden named Neytiri, the story heads into the woods by turns deeper and deeper as does Jake’s Pandora-walking avatar. I won’t venture further into the plot: I hate to read reviews that spoon feed the story from beginning to end. Instead, I’ll offer you my take of the story’s smartly-scripted subtext and symbols.
Not since 1999 and The Matrix (http://www.cnn.com/SHOWBIZ/Movies/9903/31/matrix/) have I come across such an accessible major motion picture so rich in mythological, literary and Judeo-Christian references. Like The Matrix, Avatar expands expectations of what a feature film can offer an appreciative audience.
Early on, Cameron lets us know that we’re following a protagonist who represents much more than what meets the eye. The Sanskrit definition – one who crosses over – refers to a deity who comes to Earth in body form. Is his Jake a Christ figure? No – he isn’t sacrificed. Does he undergo apotheosis? Oh, yeah.
Both Jake and his dead brother, Tom, have been named with a nod to the Bible. Thomas was also known as Ditimus, the original "doubting Tom," and Jake is short for Jacob, a second-born twin whose name translates from the Hebrew as “the foot catcher.” Jacob was born in a breach birth – his hand clasping the heel of his slightly-older brother, Esau. In Avatar, Jake is a metaphorical foot-catcher: Becoming an avatar allows him the chance to walk on two feet again, if only during his cross-over or dream state.
The native population of Pandora refers to Jake and the other scientists who cross over in avatar form as “dream walkers.” The image once again mirrors Jacob’s experience wrestling in his own dreams with angels, a manifestation of a troubled spiritual relationship with his Heavenly father. Jake wrestles with his conscience: should he continue his allegiance to the marine corps even as he becomes more and more integrated as a member of the Na’vi?
Jake’s last name, “Sully,” an abbreviated form of the Irish surname, Sullivan, fits well within the framework of more than one thematic possibility. Pandora is a world which offers an abundance of enormous trees. The Na’vi are a people who derive much of their sustenance – both physical and spiritual – from the vast forests around them. Their “home tree” is a place to live; their “sacred tree” is the repository for the spirits of their ancestors and the lifeblood of their culture from the “time of the first songs.”
The team of scientists – led by Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) – discovers that a root system links the trees: a sort of global network, a benevolent counterpoint to what “The Matrix” presented. But where phones provide entry to <i>The Matrix online network – detrimental to the beings it affected – the network in Avatar is biochemical and supported by the trees’ root systems: Dr. Augustine calls it “signal transduction” like that afforded through acetylcholinesterase and neural synapses created between the cells of the human brain.
So, while “Sully” and its Irish origins may, on one level, subconsciously pay homage of sorts to the Druids and pantheism, the name also works on another level: Jake’s name is also a verb meaning to soil the purity of something. Jake’s fellow marines and the corporation which employs them seem hell bent on doing exactly that to the environment of Pandora.
Then, there’s the aspect of Pandora itself. The moon shares the name of Greek mythology’s first woman, whom legend tells us opened a container from which sprang the world’s evils – as well as one final item, hope. Like the Bible’s Eve who plucked the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge, Pandora allowed her curiosity to create havoc, though not through any malice on her part.
The curious creature in Avatar is Sigourney Weaver’s character, Dr. Grace Augustine. Once more, filmmaker Cameron has donned his philosopher’s cap: the Catholic Church’s St. Augustine expounded his belief that only through the grace of God could man escape the damnation of original sin. He also believed in the concept of a “just war.” Jake – fully accepted as a member of the Na’vi – will eventually lead the natives in just such a fight against the military/industrial might set against their world.
Cameron practices almost Dickensian delight in naming his characters: Zoe Saldana's Neytiri (nature); Dr. Norm Spellman (normal for him is studying hard). The Na’vi lack only a consonant and vowel short of spelling “native.” Then, there’s the wicked humor in naming the cold-hearted, crassly commercial industrial big shot, Giovanni Ribisi’s selfish Selfridge (he’s both self-centered and frigid). Is it going too far to suggest the Na’vi names Eytukan and Tsu’tey hold similar meanings? I have my theories, but I’ll not push it.
Beyond the environmental concern Cameron exposes in Avatar, he gives the ticket buyer plenty to ponder. Along with his veiled reference to our dependence on oil from countries such as Iraq and Venezuela, Cameron takes a cinematic swipe at the debate to provide affordable health benefits for all. Sully can get his legs back when and if he returns to Earth, but only at a price: Science has found a way to regenerate his spine, but not on a grunt’s pay. If he plays ball with the colonel, strings can be pulled: “You get me what I need, and I’ll get you your legs back when you rotate home. Your real legs.”
How are we introduced to Dr. Augustine? Her first line reads: “What’s wrong with this picture?” as she holds her hand out waiting for a cigarette, something she smokes like a chimney throughout her time on screen.
For all the brain-power that went into writing this script, one glaring error caught my attention, and I'll admit I'm being pickier-than-picky here. But I caught it, and for the briefest of moments, the mistake took me out of the movie. Dr. Max Patel, one of Augustine's team of scientists, gives Jake this advice: "Try and use big words," he says of a way to impress the dubious Dr. Augustine. I would hope someone with a doctorate and advice on sounding smart would say, "Try to use big words."
James Cameron’s latest effort employs all the motion capture magic the folks at New Zealand’s WETA Workshop can muster. But we’ve become accustomed to expecting visual feasts from them after a trilogy called The Lord of the Rings. Expensive, yes: some have estimated the budget for Avatar anywhere from three to four hundred million dollars. After the first month in theaters, the box office take should make Cameron’s spending spree look like a no-brainer.
Aside from the costly gee whiz special effects running throughout this blockbuster’s nearly three-hour span, what remains most salient: a deliciously-smart script and story.
What starts out looking a lot like Pocahontas and Captain John Smith morphs quickly into its own tale for the ages – especially if awards come calling in its wake a la Titanic. Cameron may not make as big a splash this time out, but the numbers are in. So, should he stand with hands aloft and continue to shout that he’s king of the hill, it will take something bigger than his blue-in-the-face hero to shut him up and knock him down.
Commentary: Can violence teach non-violence?
In Too Deep
When does a film get 'In Too Deep'? Star LL Cool J reflects on the film's disturbing qualities
By Andy Culpepper Turner Entertainment Report Senior Correspondent
LOS ANGELES (CNN) -- There's an old expression: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. For the purposes of this article, let's amend that to read, "If you can't stand the violence, get out of the theater."
That's exactly what I did during a recent publicity screening of the new Dimension Films/Miramax release, "In Too Deep."
I walked out little more than an hour in. I simply couldn't take any more. Not because of the acting. Not because of the writing.
It was just entirely too violent for me to endure one more scene, particularly after witnessing one graphic display I won't describe here other than to say it involved a pool table, a cue stick and a man hog-tied, stark naked and face down on the table.
Let me also state here that this story is not a review of this film, scheduled to open August 25. I'm not critiquing the merits of "In Too Deep" or its artistic contribution or the talents of the acting ensemble.
Let me also state here that this story is not a review of this film, scheduled to open August 25. I'm not critiquing the merits of "In Too Deep" or its artistic contribution or the talents of the acting ensemble.
But after struggling with what I'd report about this film, I'd be remiss if I didn't write about the most salient thing about the picture for this reporter -- and that is, first and foremost, the intense nature of the violence I witnessed.
The first page of the production notes asks the question, "How far can an undercover cop go into the ruthless underworld of an urban drug cartel filled with violence, power, and money, before he no longer can find his way out?"
Omar Epps plays undercover Cincinnati detective Jeffrey Cole. He's trying to take down the local crime boss Dwayne Gittens (rap star LL Cool J), who calls himself "God." Nia Long plays Myra, who falls in love with Detective Cole -- only to be repulsed by the self-destructive nature of his obsession with ending the reign of "God."
The press notes stress the psychological nature of Cole's dilemma. They also say this story is based on true-to-life characters. The screenplay was written and produced by Michael Henry Brown and Paul Aaron. Michael Rymer directs ("Allie & Me," 1997; "Angel Baby," 1995).
The topic of violence comes up first with actress Long, who asks me what I thought of the movie as we sit down to talk about it. When I tell her, she doesn't flinch in offering her opinion on violence in general.
"Even though violence is always criticized in the media," she says, "it's often criticized in a way in which it's glorified."
The woman who plays the moral center and protagonist's touchstone of this picture says the situations explored in the movie are matter-of-fact. "It's part of life. I don't think this film glorifies it. I think this film shows what can happen to you if you believe you're larger than life."
Long's colleague Epps compares "In Too Deep" to other films known for their violence, notably "Scarface" (1983), which starred Al Pacino in a similar milieu.
"Classic film," Epps says, "but when you see it, you'll see why you need to see the violence. It justifies everything you've heard about it -- everything that makes it an iconic film. You know what I mean? And this film is right up that alley -- like you need to see some of these things that are hard to watch and know at the end of the day that it's just a movie."
LL Cool J doesn't disagree that "In Too Deep" may be hard to watch. "The film is disturbing," he says. "It's very abrasive. It's very ugly. And that's the beauty of it.
"There's two tiers to it," he says. "There's the popcorn-hotdog-soda, just-go-see-a-movie part of it for what it is. And then there's the more profound level, the moral value, the spiritual value, the redeeming qualities which exist in the film and the art. And it's there. Because it's so ugly it isn't glorified."
MULTIMEDIANia Long talks about violence in the film, and in real-life media
[330k WAV] or [2Mb QuickTime]
The 'beware nice guys' defenseI raise the point with LL Cool J that his character is, on the surface, the most likable guy in the film. And this very likable criminal is played by one of the most likable guys in entertainment. It seems a situation fraught with potential danger, recalling the William Butler Yeats poem that ends with the line, "How do you tell the dancer from the dance?" -- how does one separate the horrific deeds of this character from all his pre-packaged likability?
The rapper-turned-actor borrows from Eastern thought to make his point. "The Chinese have a saying," LL Cool J says, "'Beware the man with the Buddha's mouth and the snake's heart.' This is the perfect example of that."
He then turns my question around and uses it to defend the extremes in his film: "The comment that you make is the comment that I hope parents make to their kids.
"I hope one parent in the country, just one, goes with their 16-year-old or their 17-year-old -- even though their 17-year-old is gonna be 'I want to go alone' -- goes with them, and sits down with them and makes statements like that.
"You could teach with this film," LL Cool J says. "Because you know what? That neighborhood drug dealer? He's not going to come up to your kid cursing him out being mean to him. He's not going to come up to your kid with the gun out (saying) 'Take my drugs.' He's going to come up like, 'Hey how you doing?' He's going to kill you with kindness."
And once again, the conversation turns to an example found in a Pacino film. "Al Pacino said it in '(The) Devil's Advocate,'" in which Pacino starred with Keanu Reeves in 1997.
LL Cool J pulls out a dead-on Pacino imitation. "He said, 'That's our secret: Kill them with kindness.'"
Hype or hope?
The filmmakers and studio behind "In Too Deep" say the film is a study in moral ambiguity, a crisis to which the title alludes. I ask Long to define the phrase, "In Too Deep."
"Whatever you're involved in, make sure you don't lose yourself," she says. "You always need to be able to have the ability to have some sense of center and control to be able to step outside and see things clearly."
Epps, who plays the character for whom obsession becomes its own drug, concurs. "You have a goal," he says. "You have drive. You have passion. But how much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice, and how much is needed? If you achieve the goal but you sacrifice yourself, how much have you really achieved at the end of the day?"
The logic is clear.
Questions remain.
How much of this discussion on moral ambiguity, obsession, and wolf-in-sheep's clothing drug dealing will be drowned out by the sounds of popcorn being chewed and colas being chugged?
And how many under-age teenagers will find themselves sitting in a darkened theater watching this R-rated film without benefit of a parent sitting nearby -- when the credits roll on "In Too Deep?"
By Andy Culpepper Turner Entertainment Report Senior Correspondent
LOS ANGELES (CNN) -- There's an old expression: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. For the purposes of this article, let's amend that to read, "If you can't stand the violence, get out of the theater."
That's exactly what I did during a recent publicity screening of the new Dimension Films/Miramax release, "In Too Deep."
I walked out little more than an hour in. I simply couldn't take any more. Not because of the acting. Not because of the writing.
It was just entirely too violent for me to endure one more scene, particularly after witnessing one graphic display I won't describe here other than to say it involved a pool table, a cue stick and a man hog-tied, stark naked and face down on the table.
Let me also state here that this story is not a review of this film, scheduled to open August 25. I'm not critiquing the merits of "In Too Deep" or its artistic contribution or the talents of the acting ensemble.
Let me also state here that this story is not a review of this film, scheduled to open August 25. I'm not critiquing the merits of "In Too Deep" or its artistic contribution or the talents of the acting ensemble.
But after struggling with what I'd report about this film, I'd be remiss if I didn't write about the most salient thing about the picture for this reporter -- and that is, first and foremost, the intense nature of the violence I witnessed.
The first page of the production notes asks the question, "How far can an undercover cop go into the ruthless underworld of an urban drug cartel filled with violence, power, and money, before he no longer can find his way out?"
Omar Epps plays undercover Cincinnati detective Jeffrey Cole. He's trying to take down the local crime boss Dwayne Gittens (rap star LL Cool J), who calls himself "God." Nia Long plays Myra, who falls in love with Detective Cole -- only to be repulsed by the self-destructive nature of his obsession with ending the reign of "God."
The press notes stress the psychological nature of Cole's dilemma. They also say this story is based on true-to-life characters. The screenplay was written and produced by Michael Henry Brown and Paul Aaron. Michael Rymer directs ("Allie & Me," 1997; "Angel Baby," 1995).
The topic of violence comes up first with actress Long, who asks me what I thought of the movie as we sit down to talk about it. When I tell her, she doesn't flinch in offering her opinion on violence in general.
"Even though violence is always criticized in the media," she says, "it's often criticized in a way in which it's glorified."
The woman who plays the moral center and protagonist's touchstone of this picture says the situations explored in the movie are matter-of-fact. "It's part of life. I don't think this film glorifies it. I think this film shows what can happen to you if you believe you're larger than life."
Long's colleague Epps compares "In Too Deep" to other films known for their violence, notably "Scarface" (1983), which starred Al Pacino in a similar milieu.
"Classic film," Epps says, "but when you see it, you'll see why you need to see the violence. It justifies everything you've heard about it -- everything that makes it an iconic film. You know what I mean? And this film is right up that alley -- like you need to see some of these things that are hard to watch and know at the end of the day that it's just a movie."
LL Cool J doesn't disagree that "In Too Deep" may be hard to watch. "The film is disturbing," he says. "It's very abrasive. It's very ugly. And that's the beauty of it.
"There's two tiers to it," he says. "There's the popcorn-hotdog-soda, just-go-see-a-movie part of it for what it is. And then there's the more profound level, the moral value, the spiritual value, the redeeming qualities which exist in the film and the art. And it's there. Because it's so ugly it isn't glorified."
MULTIMEDIANia Long talks about violence in the film, and in real-life media
[330k WAV] or [2Mb QuickTime]
The 'beware nice guys' defenseI raise the point with LL Cool J that his character is, on the surface, the most likable guy in the film. And this very likable criminal is played by one of the most likable guys in entertainment. It seems a situation fraught with potential danger, recalling the William Butler Yeats poem that ends with the line, "How do you tell the dancer from the dance?" -- how does one separate the horrific deeds of this character from all his pre-packaged likability?
The rapper-turned-actor borrows from Eastern thought to make his point. "The Chinese have a saying," LL Cool J says, "'Beware the man with the Buddha's mouth and the snake's heart.' This is the perfect example of that."
He then turns my question around and uses it to defend the extremes in his film: "The comment that you make is the comment that I hope parents make to their kids.
"I hope one parent in the country, just one, goes with their 16-year-old or their 17-year-old -- even though their 17-year-old is gonna be 'I want to go alone' -- goes with them, and sits down with them and makes statements like that.
"You could teach with this film," LL Cool J says. "Because you know what? That neighborhood drug dealer? He's not going to come up to your kid cursing him out being mean to him. He's not going to come up to your kid with the gun out (saying) 'Take my drugs.' He's going to come up like, 'Hey how you doing?' He's going to kill you with kindness."
And once again, the conversation turns to an example found in a Pacino film. "Al Pacino said it in '(The) Devil's Advocate,'" in which Pacino starred with Keanu Reeves in 1997.
LL Cool J pulls out a dead-on Pacino imitation. "He said, 'That's our secret: Kill them with kindness.'"
Hype or hope?
The filmmakers and studio behind "In Too Deep" say the film is a study in moral ambiguity, a crisis to which the title alludes. I ask Long to define the phrase, "In Too Deep."
"Whatever you're involved in, make sure you don't lose yourself," she says. "You always need to be able to have the ability to have some sense of center and control to be able to step outside and see things clearly."
Epps, who plays the character for whom obsession becomes its own drug, concurs. "You have a goal," he says. "You have drive. You have passion. But how much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice, and how much is needed? If you achieve the goal but you sacrifice yourself, how much have you really achieved at the end of the day?"
The logic is clear.
Questions remain.
How much of this discussion on moral ambiguity, obsession, and wolf-in-sheep's clothing drug dealing will be drowned out by the sounds of popcorn being chewed and colas being chugged?
And how many under-age teenagers will find themselves sitting in a darkened theater watching this R-rated film without benefit of a parent sitting nearby -- when the credits roll on "In Too Deep?"
Myth meets Internet in 'Matrix' Keanu and company take English teachers on a wild ride
Turner Entertainment Report Senior Correspondent Andy Culpepper
LOS ANGELES (CNN) -- English teachers of America, meet Keanu Reeves et al. They may hold the key to your next lesson plan -- and give you the ability to reshape the imaginations of teen-agers everywhere.
I have been exposed to "The Matrix." And I'm here to tell you -- it's contagious. Not in the conventional sense, mind you, but catching, nonetheless.
"The Matrix," for the uninitiated, is the title of a new movie, a sci-fi thriller starring Keanu Reeves and Lawrence Fishburne. It is written and directed by the brothers Wachowski -- Larry and Andy -- whom movie buffs will recall as the team behind the psycho-sexual caper film, "Bound," which starred Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon.
MULTIMEDIA: Turner Entertainment Report's Andy Culpepper talks with the cast of "The Matrix" Windows Media 28K 80K Theatrical preview for "The Matrix" Real 28K 80K Windows Media 28K 80K "The Matrix" is set in the future -- and in the past.
Confusing? Of course it is. Would you expect anything less from something which takes its name from a matrix?
If you've seen the trailer -- those promotional spots running on television -- or the poster -- Keanu Reeves, cool incarnate, decked out in long leather coat and sunglasses, flanked by his equally bespectacled co-stars -- well, then, perhaps you had the same reaction that I did.
I was curious what "The Matrix" was all about.
It would be no great revelation for me to admit that I have never been much of a fan of the majority of Keanu Reeves' films. Still, in spite of the "Men in Black" stylings of that "Matrix" poster, I just had a hunch this was going to be something different.
I had no idea how different it would be.
Started innocently enough My "Matrix" experience began with an invitation to a screening on the Warner Bros. studio lot in Burbank. I knew nothing about the plotline when I showed up at the screening room. I was handed some print material -- production information -- which we entertainment journalists typically receive for each new film we're shown.
"The Matrix," it read on the front in big, bold letters. "There are two realities: one that consists of the life we live every day, and one that lies behind it. One is a dream. The other is The Matrix."
Without reading any more, I pondered those lines and settled into my seat. The movie began, and I was whisked into a fast-paced high-tech graphics display of opening titles that led me into the cinematic world of "The Matrix."
If I had any doubts about which demographic the folks at Warner Bros. were shooting for, they were dispatched post-haste moments into the film. Judging from the science fiction/action/thriller nature of the picture -- not to mention the soundtrack with its Marilyn Manson single -- this film definitely was not directed at baby-boomer types such as yours truly.
The former English teacher in me would be remiss, however, if he did not raise his scary head and point out what an intelligently crafted and literary -- yes, literary -- script "The Matrix" is taken from. Indeed, it is very much a film for adults.
On the surface, this movie presents a story about valiant rebels fighting to overcome an oppressive force intent on dominating and, ultimately, destroying mankind.
The good guys appear to be a small band of computer hackers who hold the secret knowledge that something is seriously out-of-whack with the world. These rebels travel at the speed of light through time and space over hardwired telephone lines and are engaged in cat-and-mouse guerilla warfare against a society of machines which have subjugated most of humanity through electronic illusion.
These bad guys have created an electronic universe controlling everything, including humans' perceptions of the reality around them. Manipulating the way things appear to be is at the heart of the Matrix, a system in place to dupe human beings too befuddled to know any better.
Could I explain it with any more clarity? Probably not. Does it matter? Probably not. It's a movie.
If you think my explanation is hard to follow, consider Tom Gilatto's review in the April 5 issue of People magazine. "The Matrix is tough to explain," he writes, "but then how much explaining does an amusement park ride require?" For the record, Gilatto concludes by calling it a "Top-notch laptop fantasy."
So why is this script so smart?
The Wachowski brothers have tapped into the zeitgeist of the '90s and have fashioned a story which -- simply put -- can be described as mythology meets the Internet.
At the same time, "The Matrix" gives a completely new twist to the concept of "going online." And teen-age boys may never know what hit them.
In the process of being exposed to "The Matrix" and its high-tech action, adolescent audience members will also be bombarded with enough allusions to mythology, lore -- even Judeo-Christian symbolism -- as to make the most battle-scarred educator smile with unrestrained glee.
Bizarre movie, odd interview
And it isn't by accident, as I confirmed during one of the most bizarre interview sessions in which I have ever participated.
Normally, when we entertainment journalists talk with the cast members and the filmmakers behind new projects, we do so at hotels where cameras are set up in advance to record our conversations. We talk to each person one-on-one -- usually -- for a few minutes, then take the tapes back and edit together our stories.
It should have been a clue, then, when I was told the interviews for "The Matrix" would be conducted on the studio lot. Moreover, had I known a female colleague had been advised to wear comfortable shoes, I would have been suspicious immediately.
I was ushered over to one of the large sound stages typically used for shooting interior sequences on movies. Inside, I was led to an eerily lit mock-up of the inside of a hovercraft vehicle from the "Matrix" set.
Reclining in ship's crew jumpseats arranged in a tight semi-circle were several members of the cast -- Carrie-Anne Moss, Keanu Reeves, Joe Pantoliano (remember Guido the Killer Pimp from "Risky Business?"), and Lawrence Fishburne -- as well as the Wachowski brothers and the film's producer, Joel Silver.
Outside their semi-circle and closed off from their direct line of sight by a bank of monitors, a sort of command seat had been positioned. This was where the journalist -- meaning yours truly -- would pose questions aided by a touch-sensitive master monitor located directly in front of the pilot's seat.
I am to have 11 minutes -- not 10, nor 12 -- to talk to all of the assembled participants.
The English teacher in me began to sweat cold bullets. This was looking more and more like a video game arcade experience. I was prepared for anything but.
I had entered my own interview "Matrix." The illusion: I was there to talk about a thought-provoking film. The reality? I would be conducting an interview with all the finesse of a scene from "Battlestar Galactica."
No matter. The truth -- as they say -- is out there. Allow me to share it with you.
The film's hero -- played by Keanu Reeves -- is a wily computer hacker named Thomas Anderson. He is thought to be "the one," the foretold leader by the name of Neo, and hence, he is the object of a search by Laurence Fishburne's character, Morpheus, the leader of the band of computer hacker rebels.
Morpheus' female lieutenant, Trinity, is played by actress Carrie-Anne Moss. She and Morpheus must convince Thomas that it is he who is destined to lead them to victory, even though Thomas doubts they are right.
It doesn't take a Harvard education to appreciate the symbolism. And so I ask Reeves about his character's name: a Thomas who is in doubt?
"You mean, 'Doubting Thomas?'" Reeves asks, referring to the Biblical figure Ditimus. The smile on his face tells me what I need to know. "Wow, you're good," says Pantoliano.
Score: former English teacher one, The Matrix, zip.
I am on to something beyond an amusement park ride, and the Wachowski brothers emphasize that fact.
"Well, you know, Neo means new, it means change," Larry Wachowski suggests. "All the names were chosen very deliberately, and we wanted to put as many things ... hidden in the movie, as many literary allusions ... we sort of think that makes it rich, more dense -- more stuff to think about and talk about."
And if Reeves' character is a savior, or Christ figure, then what of Fishburne's character, Morpheus?
"I think of him as almost a John the Baptist myself, actually," Fishburne says, referring to the Biblical holy man who traveled the countryside baptizing the faithful in preparation for the arrival of the Messiah.
Fishburne mentions re-examining myths and re-inventing myths and my inner English teacher considers joining the Keanu Reeves fan club while Wachowski picks up the theme about the importance of myth as a "mirror that is an archetype of our own time and our own life."
"I think it's important, " says Wachowski. "It's how we understand where we are and where we came from. It's a constant dialogue that happens in this sort of human consciousness, I guess."
Radical special effects. But, wait. Lest you think this movie is some kind of art film in search of a yawnfest, allow me to mention two words.
Special effects.
There are plenty. My inner English teacher was introduced to the Japanese animation technique called "anime," which breaks down action into components of time. The filmmakers used the technique in a radical new way on people during fight scenes to maximize the movements and speed of martial arts choreography.
Something else not to be overlooked is the use of wire stunt work perfected by Hong Kong stunt specialist Yuen Wo Ping. The opening scenes of the film capitalize on this technique with actress Moss, who performs a wall-walking maneuver you'd swear was computerized if you didn't know better.
Moss and the rest of the cast started training some four months before they arrived in Australia to begin work on the film. "First of all, I learned how to be just lifted on a wire," she explains. "Then I had to run against a padded wall and then they took the pads down, and I cried because I was afraid of the walls, and then I finally made it up the wall and then they added bullet hits at me...I had no idea what that would feel like."
The end result? "It was such a high to accomplish that task." Truthfully, words don't do it justice. You have to see it to believe it. Chances are teen-age boys will appreciate it all the more since this very superhuman maneuver is performed by a slightly-built female.
For certain, "The Matrix" is an amusement park ride. But as English teachers past and present might remind moviegoers, both young and otherwise: pay attention to the story. You never know what you may be mything.
LOS ANGELES (CNN) -- English teachers of America, meet Keanu Reeves et al. They may hold the key to your next lesson plan -- and give you the ability to reshape the imaginations of teen-agers everywhere.
I have been exposed to "The Matrix." And I'm here to tell you -- it's contagious. Not in the conventional sense, mind you, but catching, nonetheless.
"The Matrix," for the uninitiated, is the title of a new movie, a sci-fi thriller starring Keanu Reeves and Lawrence Fishburne. It is written and directed by the brothers Wachowski -- Larry and Andy -- whom movie buffs will recall as the team behind the psycho-sexual caper film, "Bound," which starred Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon.
MULTIMEDIA: Turner Entertainment Report's Andy Culpepper talks with the cast of "The Matrix" Windows Media 28K 80K Theatrical preview for "The Matrix" Real 28K 80K Windows Media 28K 80K "The Matrix" is set in the future -- and in the past.
Confusing? Of course it is. Would you expect anything less from something which takes its name from a matrix?
If you've seen the trailer -- those promotional spots running on television -- or the poster -- Keanu Reeves, cool incarnate, decked out in long leather coat and sunglasses, flanked by his equally bespectacled co-stars -- well, then, perhaps you had the same reaction that I did.
I was curious what "The Matrix" was all about.
It would be no great revelation for me to admit that I have never been much of a fan of the majority of Keanu Reeves' films. Still, in spite of the "Men in Black" stylings of that "Matrix" poster, I just had a hunch this was going to be something different.
I had no idea how different it would be.
Started innocently enough My "Matrix" experience began with an invitation to a screening on the Warner Bros. studio lot in Burbank. I knew nothing about the plotline when I showed up at the screening room. I was handed some print material -- production information -- which we entertainment journalists typically receive for each new film we're shown.
"The Matrix," it read on the front in big, bold letters. "There are two realities: one that consists of the life we live every day, and one that lies behind it. One is a dream. The other is The Matrix."
Without reading any more, I pondered those lines and settled into my seat. The movie began, and I was whisked into a fast-paced high-tech graphics display of opening titles that led me into the cinematic world of "The Matrix."
If I had any doubts about which demographic the folks at Warner Bros. were shooting for, they were dispatched post-haste moments into the film. Judging from the science fiction/action/thriller nature of the picture -- not to mention the soundtrack with its Marilyn Manson single -- this film definitely was not directed at baby-boomer types such as yours truly.
The former English teacher in me would be remiss, however, if he did not raise his scary head and point out what an intelligently crafted and literary -- yes, literary -- script "The Matrix" is taken from. Indeed, it is very much a film for adults.
On the surface, this movie presents a story about valiant rebels fighting to overcome an oppressive force intent on dominating and, ultimately, destroying mankind.
The good guys appear to be a small band of computer hackers who hold the secret knowledge that something is seriously out-of-whack with the world. These rebels travel at the speed of light through time and space over hardwired telephone lines and are engaged in cat-and-mouse guerilla warfare against a society of machines which have subjugated most of humanity through electronic illusion.
These bad guys have created an electronic universe controlling everything, including humans' perceptions of the reality around them. Manipulating the way things appear to be is at the heart of the Matrix, a system in place to dupe human beings too befuddled to know any better.
Could I explain it with any more clarity? Probably not. Does it matter? Probably not. It's a movie.
If you think my explanation is hard to follow, consider Tom Gilatto's review in the April 5 issue of People magazine. "The Matrix is tough to explain," he writes, "but then how much explaining does an amusement park ride require?" For the record, Gilatto concludes by calling it a "Top-notch laptop fantasy."
So why is this script so smart?
The Wachowski brothers have tapped into the zeitgeist of the '90s and have fashioned a story which -- simply put -- can be described as mythology meets the Internet.
At the same time, "The Matrix" gives a completely new twist to the concept of "going online." And teen-age boys may never know what hit them.
In the process of being exposed to "The Matrix" and its high-tech action, adolescent audience members will also be bombarded with enough allusions to mythology, lore -- even Judeo-Christian symbolism -- as to make the most battle-scarred educator smile with unrestrained glee.
Bizarre movie, odd interview
And it isn't by accident, as I confirmed during one of the most bizarre interview sessions in which I have ever participated.
Normally, when we entertainment journalists talk with the cast members and the filmmakers behind new projects, we do so at hotels where cameras are set up in advance to record our conversations. We talk to each person one-on-one -- usually -- for a few minutes, then take the tapes back and edit together our stories.
It should have been a clue, then, when I was told the interviews for "The Matrix" would be conducted on the studio lot. Moreover, had I known a female colleague had been advised to wear comfortable shoes, I would have been suspicious immediately.
I was ushered over to one of the large sound stages typically used for shooting interior sequences on movies. Inside, I was led to an eerily lit mock-up of the inside of a hovercraft vehicle from the "Matrix" set.
Reclining in ship's crew jumpseats arranged in a tight semi-circle were several members of the cast -- Carrie-Anne Moss, Keanu Reeves, Joe Pantoliano (remember Guido the Killer Pimp from "Risky Business?"), and Lawrence Fishburne -- as well as the Wachowski brothers and the film's producer, Joel Silver.
Outside their semi-circle and closed off from their direct line of sight by a bank of monitors, a sort of command seat had been positioned. This was where the journalist -- meaning yours truly -- would pose questions aided by a touch-sensitive master monitor located directly in front of the pilot's seat.
I am to have 11 minutes -- not 10, nor 12 -- to talk to all of the assembled participants.
The English teacher in me began to sweat cold bullets. This was looking more and more like a video game arcade experience. I was prepared for anything but.
I had entered my own interview "Matrix." The illusion: I was there to talk about a thought-provoking film. The reality? I would be conducting an interview with all the finesse of a scene from "Battlestar Galactica."
No matter. The truth -- as they say -- is out there. Allow me to share it with you.
The film's hero -- played by Keanu Reeves -- is a wily computer hacker named Thomas Anderson. He is thought to be "the one," the foretold leader by the name of Neo, and hence, he is the object of a search by Laurence Fishburne's character, Morpheus, the leader of the band of computer hacker rebels.
Morpheus' female lieutenant, Trinity, is played by actress Carrie-Anne Moss. She and Morpheus must convince Thomas that it is he who is destined to lead them to victory, even though Thomas doubts they are right.
It doesn't take a Harvard education to appreciate the symbolism. And so I ask Reeves about his character's name: a Thomas who is in doubt?
"You mean, 'Doubting Thomas?'" Reeves asks, referring to the Biblical figure Ditimus. The smile on his face tells me what I need to know. "Wow, you're good," says Pantoliano.
Score: former English teacher one, The Matrix, zip.
I am on to something beyond an amusement park ride, and the Wachowski brothers emphasize that fact.
"Well, you know, Neo means new, it means change," Larry Wachowski suggests. "All the names were chosen very deliberately, and we wanted to put as many things ... hidden in the movie, as many literary allusions ... we sort of think that makes it rich, more dense -- more stuff to think about and talk about."
And if Reeves' character is a savior, or Christ figure, then what of Fishburne's character, Morpheus?
"I think of him as almost a John the Baptist myself, actually," Fishburne says, referring to the Biblical holy man who traveled the countryside baptizing the faithful in preparation for the arrival of the Messiah.
Fishburne mentions re-examining myths and re-inventing myths and my inner English teacher considers joining the Keanu Reeves fan club while Wachowski picks up the theme about the importance of myth as a "mirror that is an archetype of our own time and our own life."
"I think it's important, " says Wachowski. "It's how we understand where we are and where we came from. It's a constant dialogue that happens in this sort of human consciousness, I guess."
Radical special effects. But, wait. Lest you think this movie is some kind of art film in search of a yawnfest, allow me to mention two words.
Special effects.
There are plenty. My inner English teacher was introduced to the Japanese animation technique called "anime," which breaks down action into components of time. The filmmakers used the technique in a radical new way on people during fight scenes to maximize the movements and speed of martial arts choreography.
Something else not to be overlooked is the use of wire stunt work perfected by Hong Kong stunt specialist Yuen Wo Ping. The opening scenes of the film capitalize on this technique with actress Moss, who performs a wall-walking maneuver you'd swear was computerized if you didn't know better.
Moss and the rest of the cast started training some four months before they arrived in Australia to begin work on the film. "First of all, I learned how to be just lifted on a wire," she explains. "Then I had to run against a padded wall and then they took the pads down, and I cried because I was afraid of the walls, and then I finally made it up the wall and then they added bullet hits at me...I had no idea what that would feel like."
The end result? "It was such a high to accomplish that task." Truthfully, words don't do it justice. You have to see it to believe it. Chances are teen-age boys will appreciate it all the more since this very superhuman maneuver is performed by a slightly-built female.
For certain, "The Matrix" is an amusement park ride. But as English teachers past and present might remind moviegoers, both young and otherwise: pay attention to the story. You never know what you may be mything.
The Road: Staying the Course on a Difficult Journey
If he is not the word of God God never spoke.
One sentence from the ruminative prose of The Road revisited as voice over narration in the film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel provides proof of the Texan’s formidable ability to craft compelling fiction. That same line also serves to underscore the unenviable task awaiting anyone attempting to bring the much-lauded writer’s work to the screen.
McCarthy gave screenwriters the source material for the films All the Pretty Horses (based on his 1992 National Book Award winner) and No Country for Old Men – awarded the Oscar for best picture last spring. But books are books, and movies are movies. Writing that astounds the ear on the page sometimes can’t avoid coming off seeming stilted when it’s spoken by a character in a film.
Why point out what seems an obvious difference between the two story-telling disciplines? Because McCarthy’s latest novel-cum-motion picture seems to have generated a love-it-or-hate-it attitude among his many fans.
The task of interpreting McCarthy’s words for the big screen version of The Road fell to British playwright and screenwriter Joe Penhall whose strengths may also have been his weakness: playwrights occasionally engage in distorted and surreal dramatic enterprises which call upon us to dig deep for that necessary suspension of disbelief. The sometimes unwieldy language you’d think little of wading through as a member of a live audience might seem seriocomic when the ambient noise falls somewhere between the rustling of candy wrappers and the crunching sounds molars make on popped kernels of corn.
If you’ve come across critical complaint citing the ponderous dialogue – bear in mind Penhall didn’t make this stuff up: It’s McCarthy, word for word. Penhall tackled this project from a background seemingly ideally-suited to handle the weighty themes and heightened language of McCarthy’s book. The British scribe won the BBC’s Best New Play of 2001 for his production, Orange/Blue, adapted for television in 2005.
Having wondered prior to seeing the film whether Penhall should have bothered, I’ll posit that I find more reason to praise his adaptation of the novel as each day passes. I’ll give Penhall credit for sticking to the letter of the book. In far too many instances, screenwriters – or their studio employers – fix what ain’t broke.
McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic father-son story won the Pulitzer Prize for 2007. Many who’ve read the book – including this reporter – lavished it with the kind of praise that generally comes out of the mouths of gushing college literature students. Making a movie out of such might strike some as an easy assignment. But McCarthy is one tricky customer.
McCarthy breaks rules and manipulates others. He eschews punctuation. He uses some words in ways you’d be hard-pressed to find put in practice by others of his ilk. Consider his use of “glass” as a verb, rather than as a noun. That definition can be found in a dictionary but not often located anywhere else. Notice the usage as past participle:
When it was light enough to use the binoculars he glassed the valley below.
McCarthy similarly employs “glassed” in No Country for Old Men. The practiced linguistic contortion is not so much jarring as it is illuminating: McCarthy alters our perspective at the same time that he allows his character to take in the surroundings. There’s a prism through which reality is filtered, and it’s far more likely that what looms in the distance does not bode well.
In the book, The Road, McCarthy doesn’t bother giving his central characters names. The man. The boy. It works. What makes his book stand apart from anything I’ve read heretofore is the manner in which McCarthy constructs a gripping tale even as he denies his characters any sort of tangible identity.
It’s restraint bordering on genius, the effect it has on an observer taking in the father and son’s uncertain forward motion. This sort of determined anonymity works well in a physically-ravaged post-apocalyptic setting where the terrain and the mindset of its inhabitants have undergone drastic alteration: We are never quite sure what lies in store for our protagonists.
What defines this father and son falls under the heading of some vestigial notion better left to the past. Immersed in the film, even as in the book, we, as filmgoers, find sufficient latitude to superimpose our own imaginations, and how we choose to envision the endpoint may tell us more about ourselves than we care to admit.
Nevil Shute’s darkly romantic fifties classic On the Beach meets the grim premise of The Road and ups the ante: the world’s population is dying, continent by continent, though little damage seems to have resulted around the various population centers unscathed by the obvious signs of warfare. Australia remains a land of verdant hills and sandy beaches, but the winds from the northern hemisphere carry deadly radiation. The government has issued cyanide pills to everyone. The horror unfolds along with the viewer’s realization that the world will continue to exist – sans the human race to muck it up any further.
So what’s worse? Knowing you may be forced to take your own life? Or knowing you may be left behind and forced to fend for yourself in a famine-filled world reduced to rubble where around every turn you may run into a band of cannibalistic hooligans who think of you as a happy meal? The prospect for just such a situation confronts the characters in The Road.
In Nevil Shute’s time – the 1957 book became the 1959 movie – a film such as The Road likely could not have been made without coming across like some kitschy episode of TV’s Lost in Space. Today’s sophisticated computer technology enables filmmakers to create worlds – or to destroy them – with greater and greater ease.
Moviedom’s technical accessibility begs another question: Just because you can, does it mean you should? Some people who’ve read the book voice the opinion the movie shouldn’t have been made.
A road picture spread out on a bleak landscape does not lend itself to an attractive range of marketing possibilities in a period when potential ticket-buyers are dealing with an abysmal economy. My writer friends engaged in a spirited online debate over director John Hillcoat’s efforts to bring McCarthy’s book to the screen. The verdict ranged from adjectives including depressing, uplifting, awful, powerful – in short, comments were all over the place.
An intrinsic advantage enjoyed by novelists is their ability to present a limitless canvas and color palette which the reader is free to fill with the tools of his or her unique frame of reference. For some, the resulting universe will always be superior to the cinematic intervention by a camera and projector. But in The Road, the filmmakers tread lightly around the reader’s sensibilities. Cinematography fits the story and the on-screen hues mirror moods in a process not unlike the lens of a reader’s imagination: there’s never the danger of suspending disbelief because the look isn’t right, though it may be turned upside down before the picture forms in the brain.
Australian filmmaker John Hillcoat – the man calling the shots on this film – had taken on a similarly cumbersome subject with his directorial debut, the 2005 drama The Proposition. Starring Guy Pearce, Noah Taylor and Richard Wilson, the stark account presents a moral dilemma of Shakespearean proportions: A lawman on the trail of a gang of outlaw brothers captures the younger man and offers him a pardon if he’ll track down and kill his older sibling.
Viggo Mortenson embodies all the futile desperation of a father fighting to move his son to safe harbor, the kind of physical journeyman effort that reads character actor more than movie star. Charlize Theron makes an appearance in a series of flashbacks as the wife and mother. It’s not a showy role, and she’s largely wasted here even as she makes the best of what she’s been given. Codi Smit-Mckee – the boy – comes across as an almost astonishing physical hybrid of the two actors cast as his parents.
What or who lies in wait at the end of the road? We care about the characters inhabited by these actors only in so far as their on-screen images represent a condition for the world in the moments their actions play out — no more, no less – and that may be more than enough. It’s as if they exist in suspended animation, a sort of shock which follows trauma — and as a result, McCarthy intends for us to join them in that same suspended state from which comes his story’s intense suspense.