Article: All Hail the Cinema Bastard

It is said that audiences love a good villain and when looking through the annals of cinema it isn't hard to dig up a Darth Vader here or an Ursula there. The appeal lies in their charm. That swagger. Confidence. With good villains, it's hard not to sympathise, but never surprising if we empathise. I for one was not surprised by the Thanos is right truthers. He tells his tale convincingly. Great stories have antagonists as compelling as their heroes.

This piece isn't about that. 

I've decided to write about the toe rag of movies. The obnoxious, self-serving clowns who are not the villains of the story, yet they're certainly not the heroes. The Richard Hammond of the seventh art. The Cinema Bastard.

Usually a melding of a well-horned screenplay and a brilliant character actor, the cinema bastard is the stock character of legend. An underrated individual who can really make a film. The bureaucratic gatekeeper, the smug sleazebag. He will never be the true villain but is happy to cosy up to him as his hype man. If you are thinking of a right-hand man like Oddjob or the muscle-bound, metal-mouthed Jaws then you're mistaken. Those guys can handle themselves against Bond in their own right. They are worthy foes. Boris from GoldenEye, on the other hand, is a cinema bastard. Arrogant, smug, and just a traitorous pain in the ass as opposed to a more accomplished, formidable ass-kicker. The Cinema Bastard will not get his hands dirty and if there is a chance to screw over the protagonist without doing so. He is all in. He is the gambling turncoat. The morally bankrupt also-ran who will sell you out to get a leg-up. The pencil pushing office dweeb who has a sudden taste for needlessly enforcing rules against our hero. Especially if a girl is involved. He is a jerk, but he is never the main boss.

Do I have an example? Why of course. There are so many.

Director James Cameron is one of the first names that springs to mind when we consider the Cinema Bastard. He gave us two of the best. In The Terminator (1984) we are introduced to Dr. Silberman (Earl Boen). A criminal psychologist who is an infuriating mixture of somewhat decent intentions and justifiable ignorance. He is not seen what Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) has seen, so it’s understandable that he simply marks her tale of an indestructible mental man as pure delusion. However, it is not so much that he doesn’t believe Sarah, more than the smarmy, offhanded way he denounces her claims. This, of course, comes into the forefront in Terminator 2 Judgement Day (1991) when Silberman arrogantly parades an imprisoned Connor in front of some other colleagues. Channelling his inner Dr. Phil with haughty aplomb. His reaction when the T-1000 turns up is priceless.

 

Cameron gives us the quintessential Cinema Bastard in Aliens (1986). Carter Burke (Paul Reiser) is the smarmy corporate lap dog. The smirking stooge who hides the insidious wants of the Weyland-Yutani corporation under his cheap suit and tie or trashy plaid shirt, beige ghillie combo. There’s good reason to think of Burke has the villain of Aliens due to his morally bankrupt actions. “Let’s release those face-huggers!” “I’m going to let you all deal with the Aliens. Let me close this door!” Proper villainous. However it’s important to remember that the aliens are the main course, Burke is still really a side dish. A heinous one, but a side dish all the same. What is important about Burke is the reason why he’s pulled such acts. All the chummy interaction he holds with Ripley. All the weaselling around the Army men. Going down to LV-426 as a “representative”. Burke is Ian Holm’s Ash muscled up from the 1979 original, but at least Ash was programmed. Burke is more than happy to skirt past the line of moral decency because…money? A corner office?

Like Ellis in Die Hard (1988), Burke seems to operate on the deluded belief that he’s somewhat impervious to the chaos, for little reason other than dishonest bluster. One of the key aspects of the best cinema bastards stems from the fact that we know they’re a wrong un from the off. Villains can obtain a sense of empathy. Audience members never side with the morality vacuum that is The Cinema Bastard. Even if what they’re saying makes sense, they’re a prick about it. One of the nastiest things about Burke is the best part of Paul Reiser’s performance: The sheer blank-faced denial that he is ever in the wrong. He is a pure oily politician. Born and raised to convince and deceive. Nearly everything he says is an angle. The most disturbing thing about Burke is how easily we could image him in congress or parliament today, spewing fake news without blinking an eye. Burke would happily cause disruption and confusion in the streets of a seismic global event. If there’s a price.

 

 

Everyone has their own special Cinema Bastard. Walter Peck (William Atherton) from Ghostbusters is well loathed. My personal favourite? Resident warmonger Albert Nimzicki in a deliciously sleazy turn by James Reborn in everyone’s beloved hawkish blockbuster Independence Day. He can be summed up in two moments. Getting his way and getting President Bill Pullman to launch nukes at the volatile little grey planet destroyers who have invaded Earth being one of the major ones. As the POTUS rightly hesitates upon the action (“God have mercy on our souls”) Albert Nimzicki just leans over his shoulder and apples EVEN MORE PRESSURE on the Prez with his gentle nudge "Mr. President” he mutters as if he hasn't already doomed us all.

The nukes launch, they strike the spaceship, and Nimzicki is already polishing his brass neck way before the hit is even confirmed. That is a pure bastard. A man that's so sure of himself that he doesn't even wait to see if the ship is still there. Of course, it hasn’t made a dent. ID4 is a long-ass summer movie and the nukes occur at the midway point. But nothing is more satisfying than when this bastard gets his pink slip near the end of the films running time. For bastard watchers, that’s when the fat lady sings.

 

What is it about the cinema bastard? The human face of banal evil. The bouncer who IDs you on a night out when you are clearly old enough. The retail customer who pulls demands to see the manager over a mild inconvenience. When the bastard arrives in the movie, we already know the problem and they love to pretend that they are the solution. Think Harry Ellis in Die Hard. We all love a villain, but we love to hate the cinema bastard. The contrarian asshole who wonders what's in it for me. The red-tape loving nightmare who stirs the administrative pot for the hero.

That is just who they are. Mr. Status Quo. The devil's advocate for Thanos. The open-plan office arsehole whose answer needs to be heard, despite no one asking the question. There's nothing wrong with holding libertarian values if you feel that way. However, the cinematic bastard feels endeavored to tell you it's the only way to go and he’ll do it with a smug grin.

The zombie sub-genre is prime real estate for the cinema bastard to move in with his awful taste in furniture. A Twitter colleague reminded me of the superb turn played by Dylan Moran as David in Shaun of the Dead (2004). The so-called pacifist whose blatant affection for Shaun's girlfriend manifests itself into a particular method of passive aggression towards Shaun before of course, he becomes lunch.

Harry (Karl Hardman) from Night of the Living Dead (1968) may be doing the best for his family in his eyes, but the socio-political tension that inhabits this movie, with its black lead, helps turn the claustrophobic house into a battleground. Harry does what he can to rub our hero the wrong way. Romero often stated that he wasn't trying to be political and yet considering every zombie film he did after Night, as well as that film's brutal ending, it's hard not to think that Harry would probably listen to the lead character if he shared the same skin tone.

 

 

Leonard Nimoy, most known for being Star Trek’s stoic logical foil behind Captain Kirk as Spock, plays self-help bastard Dr. David Kibnar in the first remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978). His new book’s out. He's the toast of the town. Always informing folk of his opinion but never listening to their words. He says things like giving people a psychological band-aid after giving them some pop psychology. If the film was made now? He would be a self-help scammer on Instagram. He would be Dr. Phil. He is the man telling everyone that nothing is wrong while the world's on fire. The smug cynic. We are never surprised when he succumbs to the alien spores. But he’s never the chief enemy. Merely an irritating distraction.  

 

 

Zara from Jurassic World (2015) is a weak example from a franchise that gave us 1 of the 90’s best bastards in its first cinematic entry. The insidious notions of Dennis Nerdy (Wayne Knight) seem so far away in a movie marred by retrograde views on gender. Unfortunately, Jurassic World also decides to give Zara a bastard style comeuppance. The unlucky babysitter is marked as the first female on-screen death of the Jurassic Park franchise, yet her demise is highly obnoxious considering her lack of bastard level. The appeal of the Cinema Bastard lies within a film dishing out a delicious brand of its own rich creamy Moral Justice. That director Colin Trevorrow wanted to switch the script and surprise the audience is understandable. We've kind of seen it all at this point. But the jarring aspect of Zara’s death without even a level of bastardry can give off disabling effect in terms of tone. The level of assholery is so close to what we know so a cinema bastard comeuppance is a small hooray. Not here. Her death feels frivolous and senseless. An outcome with little of the weight of a true cinema bastard. It's a reminder that we go to movies for the same way Mia Farrow’s character does in Purple Rose of Cairo (1985). We love to indulge in the black and white escapism that the movies so often give us. The cinema bastard is all about getting his way and getting hoisted by his own petard.

It’s the likes of Zara from Jurassic World that make us realise that we’re seeing less of this kind of this jerk of a character. This piece has referred to films of the ’60s and ’70s (The Mayor from Jaws anyone?), but it’s no surprise that the Cinema Bastards entered a rich vein of form in the ’80s and ’90s. Particularly in larger mainstream movies where you need an authoritative or administrative figure who may stand in the way of our brave protagonists, but only for so long. The cinema bastard was a great role for a solid character actor who may not have been the main draw of a movie but held a “that guy” presence that keen-eyed film fans would always appreciate. The list of actors is a long one: JT Walsh, Paul Gleason, Anthony Heald, John C. McGinley, Ronny Cox, Miguel Ferrer, James Tolkan, Colm Meany…need I go on?

 

As film tastes have changed hugely since the arrival of mega franchises and cinematic universes it does feel like there is less space to take up the cinema bastard mantle. When I tweeted about how much I missed the cinema bastard, I quickly had a thread filled with amazing jerks from so many films of my adolescent years. The Cinema Bastard has taken a step back in recent times, despite having the likes of Ben Mendelsohn (Rogue One) and Ann Dowd (Hereditary, Compliance) keeping the throne warm. The Cinema Bastard seemingly has a healthier living in the world of TV, possibly due to the time allowance a show has for it to grow. As major films place their focus squarely on spectacle, there’s little shock that we see the likes of Ann Dowd rising to the occasion in The Handmaids Tale in spite of her superlative displays in the aforementioned movie examples. For me it one of the reasons why Zara’s character and death feel so out of step in Jurassic World. The pieces all seem to be there, but they just don’t fit. It is a bit of a shame. Sometimes we need jerks.

Article: Paying Attention

Perhaps to quell the angry noise of Kanye West haters still bitching about his Glastonbury set nearly a week later. Joe Queenan wrote a piece for The Guardian film blog in which he skipped out to answer his phone during a one point of Jurassic World.  He found that he missed a pivotal plot point which makes the film’s half assed climax feel even more like a full on Deus Ex Machina. The piece has annoyed the twitter filminista with its snarky, trollish tone.

One paragraph states:

"This was amazing. I have been ducking out of movies to get more candy or answer phone calls or reply to texts or go to the loo for years, yet this was the first time I had ever missed something important. With good reason: Movies are filled with dead spots, padding, meaningless interludes, pointless detours, grace notes and extraneous subplots that you don’t have to see to follow the movie. There is nothing in any Adam Sandler or Fast and the Furious movie that will ruin the film-going experience for you if you miss it. You don’t need to see every frame of The Godfather or Gladiator or Avatar or even Sleepless in Seattle to see where things are headed."

Even despite the film examples used, this paragraph seems tailor made to annoy the BFI brats and Sight and Sound sons.  Of course I disagree with it. Your first year of film studies will have you detailing shot by shot analysis, while further study will delightfully inform you that every shot, nee second of a film is infused with reason and meaning. Possibly not a necessary thing for an causal viewer, but for someone whose writing about movies, I'd rather if they followed a similar trait.

Meanwhile, a quick google will also detail that Queenan is a self-professed “clown”. It’s actually a bit odd to see good film friends, seemingly had not sensed the tone that’s gleamed from the piece. At first read, while I didn’t like what the post was saying, I could easily pick up the tone.

However, the issue that comes with such a piece, joke or not, is the privilege of the film/media writer. Film criticism is already fraught with its own anxieties. It’s bad enough that the causal film viewer views, critics and writers as the devil. They are viewed as a humourless blob of portentous think pieces and mise-en-scene, who only exist to hate the films they love. With failed pieces of humour debating that film and culture writers don’t have to watch what they write about, it’s easy to see why people have got their back up. Annoyingly, I wonder why there isn’t more ire about such pieces, because they’re becoming the norm.

Last month Joni Edelman decided that Pixar aren’t thinking of the children with a piece about Inside Out body shaming kids before they even know what body shaming is. She had not seen the film. Doesn’t mean she can’t be condescending:

“I can't write with any real authority about Inside Out, because I haven't seen the movie, but I'm pretty much 100% positive that seeing the movie isn't required to make this judgment. Because here's the thing about movies: They are made of pictures. And visual memory is more reliable than auditory or tactile. That's right, folks, we remember what we see.”

Yes. We do remember what we see. But it would be nice if you watch the film that you’ve decided to attack the film company about.

Speaking of body shaming. Established critic Rex Reed; who gleefully insulted Melissa McCathy’s weight in his review for Identity Thief, decided he didn’t need to watch VHS2 in order to review it. Stating that the film was unwatchable from start to finish, yet walking out 20 minutes into the film.

Dennis Jett felt there’s no need to watch American Sniper in order to deem its morals as heinous. His think-piece stating that he’s watched the trailer and that’s all he needs to watch to fully understand the morals of the film. Let’s forget that most trailers are not made the filmmakers and that they are used to make the film as marketable as it can be. All you need is trailer footage.

Readers want to feel what they are reading is somewhat informed. Bloggers like myself, may write hackneyed critiques at the likes of Armond White, but no matter how I sometimes feel about his criticism, I always feel that I’ve been informed by his work. It’s amusing that that left leaning media like The Guardian is quoting how it wishes to keep journalism free and fearless, yet we receive film blog posts making light of not actually paying attention to what they’re watching. To have a blogger for the Huffpost boldly state her feminist leanings, yet decides that the film she wishes read the riot act to, isn’t worth watching because a “friend confirmed” her suspicions, undermines critical thinking at the most basic level. It’s important that the likes of Edelman speaks out about body image and feminist issues, but what’s the point if she’s unwilling to look into the main body of text she's annoyed at? The same goes for a journalist being quick to attack American Sniper’s Red State, right wing, flag waving, but isn’t watching the film needed to be watch yet to bolster their point? In researching for this post, I found myself on some American Republican sites that I’d rather not have on my history. Yet at least they watched the film that the argument is about.

These writers don’t need clicks from me to gain their paycheque, or more exposure. However, what’s bothersome is the idea that writers are not watching the film that they want to stop you from watching. Yet they still believe that they’re fully justified.  In this day and age, I see so many talented and hungry writers struggling to find a readership, let alone payment. Meanwhile, those who already hold the exposure believe that not actually watching the thing that they bemoaning is the right way to go.

I could be wrong. But I doubt I’m the only person bothered by the fact that we’re seeing more media and pop culture writers writing in a similar way to the anonymous commenters that often get mocked. We laugh at their whining and trolling at reviews of movies they’ve not yet seen. Yet now we’re seeing writers with proper viewership’s endorsing similar traits, but with larger word counts. That said, in this pay per click world, I’m not sure many care. With attention spans going the way of the dodo. It’s doubtful the readers finish the offending pieces. Minds already made up before finishing the first paragraph. When in Rome.

Review: Jurassic World

Year: 2015

Director: Colin Trevorrow

Screenplay: Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver, Derek Connolly, Colin Trevorrow

Starring: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Vincent D'Onofrio, Ty Simpkins, Nick Robinson, Omar Sy, B. D. Wong, Irrfan Khan

Synopsis is here

"You know, you're right. This truly was the best vacation ever. Now let us never speak of it again." – Marge Simpson - The Simpsons - Itchy and Scratchy Land episode.

It was funny to watch twitter bat their opinions back and forth while Jurassic World took the weekend/summer/year financially. Was the film Good or bad? Brilliant or Dumb? An extravagant thrill ride, or a muddled pile of murky gender politics and decades old nostalgia. I lean towards the negative choice to all of those preferences, and yet most of the entertainment I gained from Jurassic World was in wondering just how dubious it would become. By the time we reach a climax slavered in deus ex Machina plot devices. I felt a decision had been reached. Jurassic World had jumped the Mosasaurus, but audiences seem to be ok to see just how high the film would fly.

Observing the audience I watched it with, as well as the reactions from friends in my social feeds who don’t view everything in the same critical prism, it was clear that many didn’t care that the jokes missed more than they hit. Nor did they care that the film’s gender politics were less progressive than Jurassic Park (22 years old). When the Dino’s stomped and chomped, people felt there was something there. Even I got caught up in the thrill of it all. For a moment.

Jurassic World is stupid. Many have argued that it’s “meant” to be stupid. But I disagree. Implausibility and stupidity are not the same thing, although they can coincide. Jurassic World is implausible because it’s a movie about a dinosaur theme park. Fine. Yet unlike the franchises’ first entry, the piecemeal screenplay and mishandled gives us a lot of idiotic incident. On the surface, it’s “great” because Chris Pratt is handsome, the CGI is pretty and we remember the score. But while one doesn’t go to Jurassic World for debate of Cark Sagan proportions, I do dislike watching a film which takes me out of the world because mindlessness is considered the same as self-importance.

One thing I gleamed from rewatching the original Jurassic Park, is how characters faced trouble through the actions of others. Not only this, but how, said actions never felt dimly written. Dennis Nerdy’s selfishness causes major issues with the park first time round, but it never feels like a half assed script point. Two decades on, the writers can’t even be bothered to invest in decent cause and effect within the universe. In a place so vast and clearly dangerous, young kids can wander around in gyrospheres on their own.  I spent most of the film’s second half, brow furrowed, trying to figure out which imbecile considered the “plan” to take out the main threat to be a sound one. The sketchily drawn characters make hilarious dialogue exchanges the belay the hacking and slashing of the film’s patchwork screenplay.

“Do you still have those matches?” A character asks.

A memorable moment as the matches were never introduced in the first place. This is actually new information masquerading as something we the audience should have previously been told. In the grand scheme of things this is a small moment. However, it is the type of lapse that the film enjoys displaying.

Such weak control of the elements actually becomes amusing after a while. Sub-plots are picked up and dropped so quickly and heavily, that the films already shaky premise begins to quiver even more. Director Colin Trevorrow constantly reaches for Spielberg-like reverence, but seems to lack the understanding of how the man operates. Throwbacks to the previous films ring hollow and lack the detail that Spielberg would place to give the spectacle the layer of texture. Much like Super 8, we’re watching diluted imitation. It almost tastes the same, but it’s missing the ingredients.

Jurassic World does have a truckload of product placement to make in-jokes about, before realising who the real canny operators are, and falling into line like the owners of a franchise piece feel it should. This is something that the film labours with constantly. Much has been stated about the films infamous high heels, worn by a plucky, but hampered Bryce Dallas Howard. But I don’t think people would have been so bothered with this element if Trevorrow didn’t spend so much time emphasising them. It certainly doesn’t help that Trevorrow’s does this while killing another female character in an oddly extravagant and mean spirited way.  Then again, for a film that makes jokes about people wanting bigger thrills, it misses the chance to actually illustrate the vast scale of this theme park at such a critical point of crisis. What the film chooses to focus on and at what point often borders on the absurd.

For a film so dumb, it was still smart enough to take my money, I guess. Chris Pratt continues his meteoric rise to stardom. Managing to be watchable here, even when he’s not even close to second gear. Trevorrow also shows that as a director, he does handle set-piece spectacle better than many would have expected. Although the thrills and spills shown here, made me miss the earnestness of his debut; Safety Not Guaranteed. It’s a good thing that Jack Johnson is cast to help smooth things over somewhat. The cast as a whole, clearly show that they’re having a good time salting the scenery and having a good chew. Although let’s not make the likes of Irrfan Khan have a character that flip flops erratically next time yeah?

Not that such things bother the rest of the audience whose love of creature features/nostalgia (delete as appropriate) had Jurassic World become one of the highest grossing films of not only the year, but of all time. Something that leaves me conflicted. Happy to see more butts on seats at the local multiplex, but pained to see so many flock to something more boneheaded than a Pachycephalosaurus. For me, while it’s nice to see Raptors and T-Rex make another outing, wide eyed nostalgia can only take me so far. The moment Jurassic World finished. Marge’s quote was the first thing that came to my mind. I had to alter it slightly though: "You know, you're right. This film has truly made a lot of box office bank. Now let me never speak of it again."