John Ford's The Searchers is a fascinating movie. It's a Western classic in terms of story and technical execution, with cowboys and Indians, chases on horseback, shootouts, a lone hero, and Ford's legendary use of location and epic wide/long shots - all things that make up the genre of the movie. But at the same time, this film seems to me like an early moment of Western revisionist thinking via its main character. John Wayne's Ethan Edwards is unlike many of the early Western heroes, and in my opinion, for a reason. Whether or not Ford meant to do this, I think audiences can view this movie as more than just genre entertainment, but in fact as a subversion of how The West as a concept is often perceived. By the end of the movie, Ethan "saves" Debbie and finishes his years-long obsessive quest, giving audiences a happy ending. However, along his journey, Ethan is one of the meanest, most negative, and most aggressively racist characters I've ever seen, contrasting what I would say is John Wayne's usual archetype.
In the context of the movie, I don't believe Ethan's character was written to be so terrible for the sake of it. Instead, I think Ford's decision to make this "hero" such an unlikable character has more to do with the film's purpose for the audience. Disguised as a simple captive narrative, The Searchers seems to have an underlying message that the often over-romanticized idea of the "Wild West", and even the Western genre as a whole, should be analyzed critically rather than simply taken at face value as a mythology of morally-positive stories. Sure, at the end of the movie Ethan Edwards does his job and strolls back into the desert from whence he came, cool and quiet like an early Eastwood character. But should we really be happy at the end of this film just because Debbie was brought back to "humanity" and "civilization"? The death and hatred presented to us in this movie make me question why The West is so loved and memorialized, when it was really just full of terror and inhumanity. For example, Ethan doesn't face any consequences for his words and actions towards Native Americans because the people around him are probably just as terrible as he is.
And that is at the root of the film's commentary on the West. John Ford made a living helping to create the Western genre as we know it today, but The Searchers seems so ahead of its time for being (what I think) almost anti-western in the way it showcases such a terrible person whom we're supposed to respect and be grateful for - a person who is never held accountable for his actions, no matter how bad they are. Of course, I don't think the "true" purpose of this film was to bash any type of person or create any contempt for either The West as an idea or the Western as a film genre. But I do believe that The Searchers can make us think about our values and perceptions of such things, while still presenting us with a story firmly rooted in the foundation of American, Western films.
Released in 1997 and directed by Robert
Zemeckis,Contactis astory about a scientist (played by Jodie Foster)
who happens upon an extraterrestrial signal sent to Earth, after devoting years
of her life to finding proof of an alien existence in the universe. Through a
series of events, Foster’s character, Dr. Arroway, becomes the chosen human to make
first contact with these otherworldly beings. Unfortunately, what
is supposed to be the greatest discovery in human history turns out to be the most
divisive event on the planet, letting loose religion and science to confront one
another on a massively public scale. As Arroway is accompanied by a host of
scientists and government officials throughout the movie, it's her
relationship with Palmer Joss, a Christian philosopher played by Matthew McConaughey,
which takes focus. While the film starts out as an alien-encounters picture,Contactsoon becomes a meditation on humanity
and belief, following Arroway’s journey to
finding faith in something other than God. By the time the credits begin to roll,
however, it’s clear that a decent script is one of just a few aspects which save the movie
from falling too far short of greatness.
An
interesting story grounded in the real world and peppered with hard science, what Contact largely presents itself
to be is a movie less concerned with the aliens it speaks about, and instead
focused on the humans an alien discovery would affect. But despite the film’s
almost self-aware desire to separate itself from traditional science fiction fare,
it struggles to draw a line between Hollywood blockbuster and the “thinking
man’s movie” it wants you to believe it is. In fact, it’s so concerned with not
being a run-of-the-mill Hollywood sci-fi that when it utilizes the very cinematic aspects it has seemingly been avoiding, those moments do nothing but negatively impact the story’s value. Yes, the
slow pace of the movie can be attributed to its sense of detail in regards to
its characters’ personalities and making sure that their world is as much ours
as it is theirs. And the film is certainly an interesting take on the
religion/science divide, dissecting what it means for the two fields to have
dissenting universal truths. But as intellectually engaging as the film can be, Contact also employs some of the
trappings of mainstream dramas. Romance between Arroway and Palmer tends to
feel out of place; the use of John Hurt as a pseudo-James Bond villain becomes
clearly unnecessary; and the machine’s overblown destruction sequence
retrospectively seems straight out of a Michael Bay movie. If it wasn’t for the
film’s run time spacing out these scenes, it surely would have turned into
popcorn fodder for the casual viewer.
Of
course, even with its shortcomings, Contact
is still a generally appealing film, thanks in great part to its lead actress.
Arroway’s character is certainly supplemented by a supporting cast worth their
own recognition, but the movie is undoubtedly carried by Jodie Foster’s
brilliant performance. Known for her many standout roles as strong, independent
women, Foster brings a serious tone and intensity to Dr. Arroway which keeps
the character interesting enough to care about her. The story nearly opens and
closes with monologues on her part, telling someone about how she’ll never quit
her present endeavors. And throughout the movie, Arroway clearly has an
affinity and love for the work that she does (even though she sleeps with Palmer in the first 20 minutes, she does leave him behind to track auditory
satellite movement at three in the morning). Near the end of the movie, too, as
it becomes less tethered to reality, Foster’s visual channeling of emotion
becomes the thing which keeps us in our world, as she ironically leaves it
behind, if only for a moment.
While Contact
does have a good buildup to a sort of ambiguous or unpredictable “climax,” it
unexpectedly, and perhaps unnecessarily, takes the overdone, stereotypical Space Odyssey route and makes the last
40 minutes or so about this “experience” Arroway undergoes. It could have done
more, or done something different, such as focusing on her actual thoughts
rather than the spectacle of the travel, which ultimately only creates the
situation where no one believes her, a very obvious outcome. It is also fairly
slow moving, and often relies on clichés and seemingly random plot points or
plot holes, but it’s an all around decent film. The subject matter is enough to
stay intrigued, and Zemeckis’ down to Earth directing style allows for a
grounded take on the epic sci-fi ideal. Hardly a perfect science fiction film, Contact may actually be the right sort
of movie to introduce the genre to those who may flinch at man-killing cyborgs
or look down upon epic space battles.
If you’re like
me and consider yourself a fan of science fiction and horror, chances are you
caught a glimpse of Netflix’s summer hit Stranger Things (or, you probably
binged the whole season on your screen of choice as soon as it was
available). Garnering widespread critical acclaim, the streaming series fared
exceptionally well with a modern audience, even with its strong foundation of 70s
and 80s references and influences. In fact, besides the latest Star Wars
film, Stranger Things has become the most popular and well-received
piece of recent entertainment built on nostalgia or “retro” culture; HBO’s
Vinyl, Shane Black’s The Nice Guys, the Coen Brothers’ Hail, Caesar!,
and Star Trek Beyond are a few others that come to mind.
As I watched the
series for the first time, my initial impressions were all around positive.
A big aspect for me was the development of the characters, which I feel is
very well done. Working as a homage to the 80s as well as a sort of parody of
the period, I enjoyed the ways in which characters in Stranger Things
brought their own stereotypes with them, as well as periodically
broke those clichés throughout the show. This was done to especially great
effect with Hopper. When he appears in the first episode, I immediately wrote
him off to be a kind of bumbling hardass who people would have to
deal with, the kind of character who might deny all of the inevitable
"occurrences" later on. But as he got more and more involved with the issues at
hand, I realized that not only would he be good at his job, but that Hopper would
actually become a hero, physically helping others as well as providing support through belief in
their stories.
In keeping with
the genre attraction, too, the show’s aesthetics are meticulously
structured in a rather pleasing way. Music, to start with, keeps Stranger Things
grounded in its time period in two ways. On one hand, the actual series
score is a synth-laden recall to 70s and 80s electronic and prog film soundtracks,
especially those of John Carpenter’s; the director is, after all, one of the
major influences of the show. On the other hand, the pre-recorded song
choices included in the series also stem from the time period. Most prominently
featured is “Should I Stay or Should I Go” by The Clash, which becomes
something of a plot device. However, clips of Toto’s “Africa,” “I Melt
With You” by Modern English, Foreigner’s “Waiting for a Girl Like You,”
and “Atmosphere” by Joy Division all work to keep the culture of the
show in check and add to the 80s appeal - I mean, there are only so many things
cheesier than a sex scene set to Foreigner.
In addition to the music, the filming and set designs of the series both had roles in creating the setting of the show as well as working together to visually engage the audience. From the small town suburbs to the massive science lab, to the reality-bending "upside down," Stranger Things never had a set out of place. This, in combination with the contrasts of day and night scenes, different kinds of photo lenses, and changing perspectives throughout the show, allowed for a constant sense of where and when the we're supposed to be: Indiana, 1983. One of my favorite stylistic flourishes, as far as the visuals go, is the use of Jonathan's camera as a point of view in the second episode, really giving a feel of the period, while adding another sort of dimension to the perspectives we get (embodying Jonathan's outsider persona in relation to most of the other characters).
In the end though, as much as I loved the show for its entertainment value, I appreciated Stranger Things for its collective allusions to genre canon, which seemingly builds the series on an appreciation held by the creators, of 70s and 80s sci-fi and horror. Steven Spielberg, John Carpenter, and Stephen King may be the big three icons that are channeled throughout the series, with parallels to the like of ET, literal references to The Thing, and even an officer reading Cujo, but there are hosts of allusions everywhere. Will is eventually kept hostage by the monster in a very Alien fashion, Elle takes down three government agents Scanners-style, and watching Joyce talk to Will through the walls of her house is reminiscent of the mother in Poltergeist (just to roll off a few easter eggs). It's this aspect of the show, however, the feeding into genre, which I feel attracted a lot of viewers and allowed for certain amounts of critical prestige simply out of the appeal of the nostalgic. While this is hardly a bad thing, I can't help but wonder if the portrayal and spread of the series owes itself more to what it represents and calls to mind rather than to what it is a text on its own. To be certain, when something makes use of the past, especially in a positive way, there is always more of an approval or acceptance of it. Ironically, for a show made on a widespread and mainstream medium, Stranger Things is also a show that can handle less mainstream viewership as it's largely balanced by a steady stream of sci-fi/horror fans. Watching the series comes with a bonus if you understand what it's doing to raise attention to the past, but sure enough, this doesn't alienate the less-informed viewers. And Netflix subscribers in general don't have to watch it if they're not fans of the genre to begin with.
When it feels as though that the writers and directors of any visual form of media create something for the love of it, it seeps through the obvious industry business that went into getting it on a company contract. And I have no trouble at all picturing the Duffer Brothers as a couple of movie buffs who wanted to make something to showcase their interests. After a second round of watching the season, though, I was able to watch it all more critically and from less of a "fan" perspective. Stranger Things, while it does deserve praise for the in-genre world it creates, is by no means the "perfect" television series many reviewers will make it out to be. That's because it still only is a television show, and innately comes with its own issues. By and by, is it for everyone? Netflix may have you believe that, but definitely not. Is it for science fiction lovers and horror buffs? Yes...but it's always better to give something a shot and form your own opinion anyway.