ex_machina and Creative Control

Two films similar in content and in approach, both ex_machina(Garland 2015) and Creative Control(Dickinson 2015) are depictions of the technological advances in the near-to-distant future and how they affect the human condition. The films portray misconceptions that we as humans believe because of prior knowledge that indicates so. In the case with ex_machina, thinking or having a conscious is what makes us human, a theme touched upon in many films before this one, in particular, Blade Runner. However, ex_machina gets technical and analytical with this theme and delves into actual theoretical principles. Creative Control addresses the contradiction of the namesake in capitalist culture. 
ex_machina is quite the philosophical film addressing questions rather than demonizing technology or employing a simple sci-fi narrative. It even mentions the source of inspiration for the philosophical material in the name of Nathan's company BlueBook. This name stems from the actual Blue Book, notes of philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. The main focus is the question of conscience or thinking and if that's a unique trait to humans because of our special cerebral capacities. Wittgenstein argues contrary to this belief stating that thinking is "essentially the activity of operating signs". Our minds are simply "agents" of thinking, the system that operates these signs and arranges them in order for the mind to reach a conclusion. In the case of Ava in the film, her software is the BlueBook search engine, therefore gaining signs from all over the world and operating them into a conscience. 
Creative Control addresses the harsh reality that there is practically no creative control in capitalist culture. Director Benjamin Dickinson stated in an interview after the screening at SXSW, "it's never the way you'd like it to be. There's always pain, there's always death. There's always negotiating with other people who don't agree with you. There's the dawning realization that maybe there's no ultimate truth, or at least there's not an ultimate truth that we can know. I mean, that's life". One cannot have true control over any action that big, whether it be artistic, or something as distant from that argument as farming. The irony of David's statement in the film on having complete creative control over the outcome of the Augmenta account, despite having entrusted it almost completely to Reggie Watts, is laughable. The same is shown in the Phalanex commercial sequence where the executives of the company are telling the ad agency what they want from the commercial, and then the ad executives tell the filmmakers what to do, and then the filmmakers tell the actor what to do. The chain of command is explicitly shown in that one-take sequence. It ends with David's expression of unsatisfaction, because he knows of his lack of creative control. 

Beardy Men and Manic Pixie Robot Girls

Creative Control (Benjamin Dickinson, 2016) and Ex Machina (Alex Garland, 2015) are both extremely current and thought provoking films that comment on what happens when technology overpowers it's creators.  By juxtaposing human nature with imitations of human nature, both Garland and Dickinson question weather power inevitably leads to self destruction, what it means to be conscious, and the purpose of man kind's existence. Despite thematic similarity, there's one major plot point both films share that seems much more than mere coincidence.

When both Nathan from Ex Machina and David from Creative Control come upon ground braking technology that will undoubtedly change the entire course of human existence, why is the first thing both these guys make a sex doll?

Here they have this semi-human halograph or something they know is just a bunch of wires underneath and their first thought is "well I better have sex with that." We see this in both Kioko from Ex Machina and the avatar David makes of Sofie in Creative Control.  If you want to talk Fellini, it shows a under developed third stage Anima. Both David and Nathan's desire to supplement an emotionless robot that will do whatever they ask for a human they have to respect and communicate with in a mature way proves both these lovely bearded gentlemen are not responsible enough to handle this technology. They are self centered and have little regard for other people's feelings as anything more than a minor annoyance. They alternate between trying to eliminate the inconveniences of human emotions and wildly misjudging characters reactions to their actions. Instead of a Turing Test, I think we need a test on the creators of any new technology made to mimic humans.  Is the inventor of this thing trying to have sex with it? Yes? Ok, shut it down.

Blog Post 4: Primer

Blog Post 4: Primer

Written, directed, produced and acted by Shane Carruth, Primer is one of the most puzzling and mind-bending films that I’ve ever seen. While the film is primarily about intellectual engineers Aaron (played by Carruth) and Abe (who build and sell error-checking technology with the help of their friends), the film says a lot about the power of technology, the morality and desires of human beings and the mysterious effects and consequences of time travel. The film is a very low-budget one (7,000 dollars) yet the ideas presented and explored raise it to another level of indie-film making.

When Aaron and Abe accidentally invent what they think is a time machine, Abe is adamant to build a version capable of transporting a human to the past and re-living past experiences. One of the major themes that runs through this film is the idea of obsession. The act of repeating and practicing until the body deteriorates is examined.  Exaggerations of workplace hazards such as sitting too long in a chair at a desk, or the effect of improper lighting produce equally exaggerated results: bleeding ears, the inability to write, and the need to kill their own clones. (!)  These two scientists don't find a way to free themselves from their obsession with the device until they realize that their work is actually counter-productive to finding any sort of real meaning in their lives.  Aaron, the scientist who chooses to stay behind with the machine is contrasted with Abe, who is able to see the device for what it is: an infernal machine capable of destroying their families. It is almost as if the film is ridiculing the aphorism, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again" (and the two scientists DO try again and again).  Instead, the film makes clear that obsessive work is EXACTLY like time travel - you make it to the end of your job, only to find out that there is a new kink to solve, and it takes you back a week, a month, a year, all the way back to square one, all the while unraveling everything beautiful around you.

Another interesting thing about Primer is its jargon. The film is a play on both hard science fiction and magical realism. While the film's setting is decidedly Midwestern American (though Abe and Aaron's fixation with the time machine echoes One Hundred Years of Solitude's José Arcadio Buendía's fixation with his scientific pursuits, which end up alienating him from his entire family (hence the solitude part of the title), the idea is the same: take a fantastical concept - time travel -and then integrate it in a matter-of-fact manner into a mundane suburban setting. In fact, the settings themselves - the offices, the storage room, the garage, the suburban houses - all turn the time machine into a seemingly normal part of these scientists' lives. However, where Carruth best integrates the time machine into mundane daily existence is through the use of jargon. The way the characters speak, their half-formed sentences, their thinking out loud, their use of technical language that is deliberately engineered for us not to comprehend the content but to understand the tone and weight behind the voices, all illustrate how we humans try to understand the new, the alien, and the frightening. The film is less about the time travel itself, and more about the ways in which people try to understand the unexplainable, how we apply mechanics and rules to an impossible occurrence so that we can hold on to a halfway tangible explanation.  

Blog Post 3: Paprika

Blog Post 3: Paprika

Directed by Satoshi Kon, Paprika is a very interesting film about a scientist named Dr. Atsuko Chiba who at nighttime, under the code name “Paprika”, is a dream detective. The scientist also works with other colleagues who are trying to design a device called the DC Mini that is intended to help psychiatric patients. The twist is that the Mini could be used to destroy peoples’ minds should it fall into the hands of evil people.  This film was unlike any I had ever seen before.  8 ½ is the only film that shares any semblance of similarity.

So what is the DC Mini really? To many people the device is designed by psychiatric researchers to peer into the dreams of their patients. Although the device is very promising, the film carefully points out its pros and cons.  In the storyline of Paprika, terrorists steal the DC Mini during its development, and use it to implant malicious dreams into the subconscious of waking people. What we don’t find out until near the end is that the Chairman of the research facility that is developing the tool is the terrorist.

This film was sometimes so confusing that I found it hard to follow. However, I was never bored.  Even, lost, the film is intriguing. The director did not shy away from the creative opportunities inherent in an animated film; the avatars mirror the lives of regular human beings.  The characters walk and talk in their dreams and fall from one reality into another. The famous opening scene of 8½ is fantastical and original. But Satoshi Kon seems to go beyond and redefine what dreams are. The director is fascinated by the relationship between technology and our perception of reality vs. dreams. Although cautious about the intentions of technology in our everyday lives, the film carries a hopeful message that our perceptions of both dreams and reality can be positively altered through technology.

Paprika also compares the Internet with dreams. Though we usually consider the Internet to be “real” and our dreams to be “illusions,” both are products of our imagination that exist outside of our physical selves. When Detective Konakawa, a patient suffering from recurring nightmares, seems surprised to see Paprika in the site radioclub.jp, Paprika asks him “Don’t you think the Internet and dreams are very similar?” Her argument rings true. On the Internet, as in our dreams, we experience secrecy and we have a chance to create our own reality. As in dreams, we have the chance to be free of the restrictions of time, space, and our physical selves. To put it as Paprika does, “The Internet and dreams are the means of expressing the inhibitions of mankind.”

Do I agree that technology should enter our dreams, our TV screens, and our reality in the future? I don’t know but it seems so wildly different from our reality that I it wouldn’t hurt to try. Technology seems to populate our world these days that it’s hard to imagine a world with no technology in the future. Dreams are no different too. It’s a fascinating idea to make a movie about the possibilities of technology inhabiting our dreams.  

Blog Post 2: God Help the Girl

Blog Post 2: God Help the Girl

Written and directed by Stuart Murdoch, God Help the Girl is a visually arresting and an incredibly true-to-life film about adolescence. Though some viewers may consider it “twee,” the film accurately portrays the rickety ride of relationships and breakups during this fragile period in our lives. The story line is primarily about a shy, musical teenage girl by the name of Eve who, despite her trouble expressing her emotions, travels to Glasgow to become a musician. While at Glasgow she meets James, an awkward songwriter who has the same vibes as Eve.   They meet up with another musician, Cassie, a guitarist, and all 3 become great friends.

Notwithstanding a certain sentimental aura, the drama of the lives of Eve, and her two friends, is far from tame. The film struck me as being very similar to Francois Truffaut’s third feature film, Jules and Jim. Just as Eve forms a triangular friendship with James and Cassie, Truffaut’s film is also about the triangular friendship between the Austrian author Jules, the exuberant Frenchman Jim and the beautiful Catherine. Although God Help the Girl is about music and takes place in a different era, the cinematography of both films is similar, as is the powerful way in which they play on our emotions and tug at our heartstrings. I love how both directors are able to at least appear to ignore the audience and create art for its own sake, art that touches them, rather than the viewers. In both films we are given little hints here and there and must do more thinking beyond the facts that the film itself presents us.  Having loose plots makes both films interesting to discover. In Jules and Jim time travels freely from the present to the past to the future and back to the present and the audience is challenged to determine the chronology.  God Help the Girl equally demands that the viewer figure out where the characters are and how they got there. When Eve swallows the pills and falls into a deep sleep we think she is dead. The montage of images of her dancing and taking pictures with her friends and the slow and melancholic music confirms this.  Yet, she is not. We learn that under the weight of her troubled emotional state, she has made herself return to the hospital.

I think the main reason this film is considered quaint is due to Murdoch’s evocative soundtrack. Not only is it pleasing to the ears but unifies the characters and helps us to understand their passions. There are many songs in this film, each one better than the last as the film proceeds. Another reason the film has a pleasant tone results from the characters themselves.  Eve has many troubles in her life; she is addicted to drugs, doesn’t eat enough and tends to seek seclusion from the world.  But we don’t interpret her passivity in a negative way.  She don’t find her cynical, or lazy.  We feel her pain and want her to succeed in her musical ventures. In the beginning, Eve seems frail but as the film progresses, she hardens, yet not in a bad way. She stands up to her boyfriend, she becomes more confident and realizes her ambitions and how to achieve them. Overall, the film is somewhat of a pillow to lie on, and even learn from.

Primer: What's In the Box? Authenticity and Humanity.

Time travel films are tricky. Spend too much time explaining the mechanics of the time travel present, the narrative and characters are given the short stick. However, if the rules of time travel are not clearly sorted out, then the entire narrative and logic of the film collapses on itself. Shane Carruth's film Primer (2004) could arguably put in either category due to the film's extremely polarized response from audiences. But, let's take all of that aside and look at the film that is present. Because man this film is a doozy.

Created over the course of several years on a budget of seven thousand dollars before receiving a lot of hype at Sundance and amassing a cult following, Primer is the little film that could. Many people were alienated by the lack of exposition and heavy engineering/technical jargon present in the film, but for me, those aspects were terms of endearment. Primer feels like an incredibly personal tale that meant a lot to Carruth, which is odd considering the film is about time travel. But this film is an incredible achievement in itself for remaining authentic while also making time travel seem believable. Whether this is due to the limitations the shoestring budget gave Carruth or the fact that Carruth used to be an engineer and wanted to keep the scenario realistic, this was the first time I saw a time travel movie and thought, "Huh, maybe this could happen."

In addition to the ingenious time travel mechanics (i.e. the doubles, time travel not being instant), this film never forgets its characters. Both Aaron and Abe go on incredible journeys as characters as they go from mildly cocky, extremely brilliant garage scientists to human beings grappling with the ethics of their discovery, which they do not understand. The fact that both Abe and Aaron, who are depicted as very intelligent, struggle with the mechanics of the time travel box and what it means for humanity makes this story all the more relatable, and ultimately, more compelling. Watching Aaron and Abe realize that they will never understand this technology is both terrifying and intriguing, and the ways in which the characters diverge is both understandable and tragic. Abe may have gone back to his regular life out of guilt/fear and Aaron on to France where he can create more boxes out of greed, but we never stop wondering. Not just what happened in the film, but also what happens after, in context of not only the box, but also these two guys. Now that is good storytelling.

God Help the Girl: Finding Light in Music Despite Darkness of the World

Music is an essential part of our humanity. I have always believed that music is the language of the soul, as it can be used as a tool for us to express aspects of ourselves we have no other way of expressing. Maybe that's why I have a bit of an impartial bias towards musical films and even many stage musicals, because they emphasize the show-stopping aspect of the musical number so greatly, that they lose sight of the humanity that singing character is trying to show. I know that many of my blogs have discussed the ways that these films take influences from several films/styles, fuse them together, and create something new, unique, and powerful. Sorry, but Stuart Murdoch's God Help the Girl (2014) once again achieves this through its combination of real-world strife and its depiction of music as a force of immense goodness.

Several musicals in the last few decades have managed to discuss real world issues and humanistic themes, with mixed results. Bob Fosse's film adaptation of Cabaret (1972) showcased the ugly side of humanity through a gritty lens in his examination of a burlesque cabaret club being the only place where the true, terrible nature of people can be revealed, explored, and commented on. Tom Hooper's film adaptation of Les Miserables (2012) looked at the ways that we feel unfulfilled and conflicted in our lives, seeing love as the only solution to the misery of the world. God Help the Girl explores ideas from both of these films, albeit predominantly in its non-musical portions. Eve hates herself and is trapped in the troubled confines of a young girl with anorexia. She doesn't know how to deal with her problems, so she always runs from them, illustrated in the opening of the film when she escapes the psychiatric hospital she was staying in. Over the course of the film, Eve takes drugs to dilute the pain that she feels at being unfulfilled and tries to find love through some ill-conceived sexual trysts with men, most notably the unabashed d-bag Anton.

Obviously, one of the most important aspects of a movie musical is the music itself, and how it is used. It is here that God Help the Girl finds some unlikely inspiration: The musical films of John Carney. Carney's musicals are all variations on similar themes, but that doesn't stop each of them from being fun, moving, and electric. In his films such as Once (2006) and Sing Street (2015), Carney's protagonists find happiness through music as they find themselves committing to an artistic expression and forming authentic bonds with others that share the same passion and vision. Eve comes to life when she makes music, and finds an unlikely source of love in her band mates James and Cassie, who grow to be their own makeshift musical family. Surprisingly considering all of the pain Eve exhibits and endures throughout the film, God Help the Girl concludes on an uplifting note, as Eve leaves Glasgow for London to study music at a musical college. By grounding the film in a relatable, real-world story with layered characters while also allowing the sheer power that is music to seep into the film's core, God Help the Girl emerges as something special.