A New Testament of the New Gospel

Or You Should (NOT) Watch EVANGELION

In which I go over the show that everyone has already (re)gone over and over and over

ALL ABOUT EVA

If you hadn't heard, Neon Genesis Evangelion is back. Netflix just licensed it and even commissioned a new dub and translation to boot. While it is an important, it isn't just the show that is returning. It's everything that comes with it.

You can't talk about Evangelion without talking about the baggage-- all twenty-five years of it*-- that comes with. It's a show that can't escape its own gravity. Neither can pop culture.

Evangelion is a show that has been speculated about, denigrated, lamented, and imitated, and for years almost all of this has been afrom a distance. A conversation that is as much informed by nostalgia as anything else. Now it's back, fully accessible to anyone with a Netflix password and, at long last, we can re-litigate on of the greatest Japanese animes of all time.

Now that I’ve rewatched Evangelion for the first time in nineteen years, I’ve realized a lot of things. The first is that all of the critics of this show are right. It's a show that's aged remarkably well, if only because the things it fucks up-- the roughshod ending, the lack of focus, the abject sexism-- were all known to suck in 1996. The second thing that struck me is just how enjoyable it still is.

Austin Walker** often speaks of the Gundam series in a similar tone. Even the good Gundam it's still a series rife with bullshit. Fan service, stories that drag on, monsters of the week ad nauseam, and so forth. Despite that, he is a fan and that is because he knows that the worth of a work is more than one or two things. It isn't arithmatic. It's still art and it is still something that has to be reckoned with-- even the dumb robot shows.

To love Evangelion is to accept that it's a mess. It's an rough canvas, unfinished. And despite that, it's also one of the coolest giant robot shows ever made and that it has a great soundtrack and also has a giant penguin that just hangs out in the background of scenes for no real reason other than it's a giant penguin.

That’s what the show is. It’s beautiful. It’s terrible. It’s motherfucking Eva, baby.

I feel like I saved this picture because I was going to make a joke,
and now it's gone, so instead, here's a depressed teenager.

POR QUE, EVA?

Evangelion is worth seeing because there isn’t anything quite like it. For better or worse, Evangelion still feels like a singular work of art. While its origins are well documented, it still manages to stand apart from its predecessors by what it emphasizes. Its design, its use of body-horror, its emphasis on the inner-lives of its main characters, its increasingly preposterous and glorious battle scenes-- all of this add up to a show that is greater than the sum of its parts. As much as it is a show that draws on external works, it stands a singular work of art, one worth experiencing for its own sake.

What I'm saying is that Evangelion has styyyyyyyyyyle.

There's another version of this essay where I discussed how
Nausicaa relates to Evangelion, but I'm annoyed and tired,
so let's just pretend I did, okay?

Secondly, do it for the culture. Neon Genesis Evangelion it’s one of the most influential TV shows of all time***. As a cultural artifact you should take it in. An entire generation of would-be weebs who watched this show in the early 2000s, on VHS tapes or on fan-translated DVDs are all making their own cartoons or their own movies. Like, watch Evangelion and tell me that the Kong: Skull Island guy didn’t watch this show from front to back. Or Guillermo del Toro for that matter. Or Rebecca Sugar or a whole lot of other creators.

I recently watched Pulp Fiction with my teenage niece and nephew and they left the viewing being less than entirely impressed. While a good bit of that can be chalked up to them being dumb teenagers and poor sound quality of the stream, I think a good part of it is just the fact that Pulp Fiction, to them, is not a unique artifact. So many movies and TV shows have played off of what Pulp Fiction did (which was to copy a lot of other movies) that to see it in its original form isn’t very impressive. It’s like listening to the Sex Pistols. If you don’t have disco and Barry Manilow and prog rock to compare it to, it’s just four dickheads playing instruments poorly. 

Neon Genesis Evangelion, like Pulp Fiction, has the same kind of legacy. It’s the genre work that escaped its enclosure. It’s a work that came into being as a sort of fan letter to other works in the genre (Ultraman, Gundam, Toho monster movies, etc etc etc), but it ended up having an influence larger than the works it was derived from. In short, it’s fairly similar to what happens when people with talent and discipline listen to punk and decide to start their own bands.

Hey, kids, let me tell you about the first
guy to rip off Old Testament imagery,
that's right, Hyper-Jesus.

Third, Neon Genesis Evangelion is a master class in messy storytelling. Not that you need a second ironic reason to watch the show, but the ending(s) aside, Evangelion is broken on a fundamental level. Budget problems (allegedly), production delays (definitely), and the auteur at the center of it calling audibles half of the way through the run of the show are but three reasons as to why it's such a patchy show.

Is it a good mystery? Is it deliberate storytelling? Or did they just forget and get bored? Is it ambiguous or did they fail to follow up on a plot point? Both? Neither? Does it matter?

Frankly, if somebody sane and with a healthy respect for production made Evangelion it might be better, but it wouldn’t be Eva. From a critical point of view, the cracks in the foundation are the foundation.

Lastly, Neon Genesis Evangelion is actually a kind of good robot show?****

Despite its odious lows, Evangelion still hits some incredible high points. When it fires on all cylinders, it's one of the best giant robot shows ever made. I mean, there's an episode where they have to use a giant sniper rifle to shoot one of the Angels and in order to get it running, they have to use the power of the entire island of Japan. It's awesome.

Sure, the last two episodes suck ass drudges and the movie is, uh, of similarly cut cloth, but in between its moments of shoe-gazing and its male gaze, it manages to be a neat and unique TV.

There are my four reasons. It’s unique. It’s influential. It’s important as an artifact of storytelling. And Shinji punches those monsters good.

But also fuck this dumb show.

Brilliant, stupid, or just plain awesome? The answer is: Yes.

THE EVA-PHANT IN THE ROOM

There is no rationalizing, there's no getting around it: Neon Genesis Evangelion has a problem with women.

God almighty, does it have a problem with women. It both doesn't know how to write female characters nor does it seem to have any sort of affection for them. When it does have affection for them, it's for their bodies. It is a show that, at best, has some deeply unpleasant opinions about women.

And before I get into it into it, I want to point out that this is an abridged sally against this show's deeply weird brand of misogyny.

It's a show that doesn't quite know how to handle its female characters, except when it does and it's a pile of vitriolic, Stone Age-sexism. This is made all the more depressing by the fact that Anno-- and presumably his team of collaborators-- are aiming for profundity when it explores the inner lives of its characters. This makes its fumbling portrayals all the more striking. Instead of original and interesting statements about its female characters, what we get instead are Psych 101 level course notes. It's shallow, sad, and lame. It's a show about teenagers with the understanding of a teenager.

While there are stand-out moments (like when Asuka kicks ass or any time Misato is forced to jerry-rig a plan together), these moments are undercut by reducing these women to their most basic constituent parts (if you're a dullard): Mother and/or Lover. They can't be pilots or scientists or, uh, giant robots (which is literally just a giant mom in this case, but anyways), they are Mothers and/or Lovers first (and ultimately). Any attempt to stray from this path results in failure, torture, and death. Or all three. Or you turn into a giant space god. I don't know, anime.

Beyond that, you have the arcs of Rei (who Anno admitted stopped developing after episode six, when her arc is literally "You should smile more," which is probably less of a gross trope in Japan, but boy howdy, does this show not deserve a generous reading when it comes to women) and the arc of Ritsuko (who is a scorned women, like her mom) and Misato ("Slut, slut, sluuuuuut!") and Asuka (who tries hard and kicks ass, but can only try so hard and kick so much ass, because at the end of the day, she is there to be gawked at). Sure, Shinji gets his ass kicked quite a lot, but his entire purpose in the show is to be told that he matters. His arc is the one that matters. His story is the one that needs to be told. In the end (of Evangelion), all women are ultimately accessories to this dumb, shitty boy's journey (and, indeed to the audience's journey).

Women. Lover. That's it. Those are your options.

Then there's the T and A. Ugh. Alright-- I wanted this to be a quick segment, because I hate talking about this shit and I'm sure you don't want to read it, but it would be dishonest to blow past it-- but this show loves to sexualize its underage girl cast.

How it treats its adult female characters isn't much better (but at least it isn't a crime). It reduces them to basic traditional roles-- mother and wife (or, well, giant robot, but is that not just a type of a mother? A giant, berserk mother built of bone and steel? Think about it). And then, as a kicker, after it reduces them to these roles, it then judges them for being in these roles. Misato is a slut. Ritsuko is a jilted lover (ditto her mom, who has literally been reduced to these roles via the Magi computer system).

So, not only is it juvenile and reductive, it's also hypocritical.

And that isn't to say that featuring teenage sexuality is a total non-starter. It is possible to have your cake and to eat it too-- or at the very least there is a way to titillate and to talk about teenage sexuality without undercutting your characters. Without being a pervert. Without being a generally unpleasant weirdo.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High is a movie that manages to do both. It's a movie that features nudity, that celebrates (responsible) sexual activity and desire, and it also makes fun of and judges when people use sex irresponsibly or to hurt other people. In short, it uses a visual medium to portray an aspect of humanity in a complex light.

(There's also Karate Kid, which is a really chaste portrayal of high school romance and, I don't now, Lolita which manages to make a comedy out of pederasty. There's also TV shows like Riverdale, which are dumber than dogshit twice run over, and it still doesn't ever become creepy. What I'm saying is get it together Anno. Jesus.)

On my rewatch of Eva, I was struck by how obvious this problem is from the very beginning. And then I remembered that even at the age of thirteen I was always slightly embarassed and creeped out.

As I said earlier, some things age well because we knew it sucked them.

LET'S GET OUT OF HERE ALREADY

If you hate it, I get it. There’s enough wrong with it to fuel a thousand hours to forward facing You Tube rants. It’s not like Tom Petty. It’s not like if you don’t like Evangelion it makes you a bad person. I mean, Shinji Ikari would hate this show and he’s on this show.

It’s also fun to go back and realize just how much this show has shaped my taste in things. The music. The terror of the aliens. The body horror. The gore. The fetishistic attention to mechanical details. The computer screen insert shots—name one show that has better insert shots of computer screens. You can’t because Eva has the best shots of screens and displays, and you know it. All of those things have stuck with me.

Evangelion is a show that I love and hate. To engage with it is to understand engage with both of these concepts and to understand that these are not mutually exclusive ideas. Evangelion is (not) a good show and that's what I love it.

In general this has been a season of realizations for me. I’m glad that Eva is at least one thing that I can put to bed.

FOOTNOTES:

* That many? Really? When the fuck did that happen? Also, how is this show still coming out? Why is it still coming out for that matter. I guess I agree with this take on Evangelion, elucidated by one of the writers of the film Mandy: That Anno himself cannot help but go back to the well. Because he is compelled enough by the material that he can't escape it. There's something about this show, how messy it is, how appealing it is, that keeps him from going back-- or at least escaped.On a more cynical level, I'm sure the money helps.

** If I were a better essay writer, I would have found the time and the space to talk about this tweet specifically. I like how Walker frames Evangelion as both a seminal work of art that he loves, but also a show that he knows is fundamentally fucked-up and problematic. I like even erudite and politically aware cultural critics still have room in their heart for screwy robot shows. I also like that guys like Walker and his crew at Waypoint/Vice Gaming are out there doing the heavy-lifting so I can keep these essays short.

*** Maybe“infamous” would do better. I touched on it briefly above, but Evangelion, like a lot of Japanese animation, has attracted the worst sorts of people. Perverts. Weirdos. Would-be pederasts. Generally unpleasant dickheads. Which wouldn't be a problem if the show didn't encourage a lot of these people. Over and over again Evangelion (and thereby Anno and the production company, Gainax), sexualize the children. Ugh. I don't even want to get into it, but it's bad. It's bad that the show did it and it's bad that it attracts people that, you know, have very specific feelings about how cartoon child pornography are peachy keen (I can't find the specific article, but apparently the current translator of Evangelion apparently holds such opinions). Plus, also maybe Anno himself gave one of the cast members some real creeptastic directions once. Blech.

**** On that note, if you want to see a straight-up monster movie, Hideaki Anno's Shin Godzilla is a hell of a movie. Very different from the 2014 Godzilla. It is also a movie worth your time even if you hate Evangelion.

***** In that way GoT can also join an even more odious group of series finales that I keep: Shows I wasn't disappointed with because I already knew they were going to suck. It's one of the hollow victories where I never get let down because I never had any expectations. Way to go me.

James Kislingbury is a writer, podcaster, and will not get in the EVA. Must be losing his touch. You can listen to him here and here. You can shovel piles of lucre at him here and here.

Warobouros

THOUGHTS ON CALL OF DUTY: INFINITE WARFARE

Whoever decided to make Call of Duty into an annual franchise is a madman.

The most interesting thing is how Activision-- in conjunction with three different studios-- has persistantly forced themselves into making the simple art of murder into a new and fresh experience year after year. Considering the rivals they seem to have left in their wake (and the rivals that seem to struggle to compete year after year), it's amazing that we're still here, in the year of our Lord 2016 still talking about these dumb games. Plus, Osama bin Laden has been dead for years, so trying to tap into whatever anxiety college-age males have about society is also an interesting endeavor in amatuer psychiatry.

With that said, I am a madman, as well. I've played through every single one of these games since Modern Warfare in 2007 (in fact, it's the primary reason that I bought an X-Box 360). As often as I say "I think I'm done with these games," November rolls around every year and I find myself with a six pack of Kirin Ichibans staring at a Red Box.

So here we are again. I played through Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare. It's pretty good. Here are more thoughts about it-- Then again, maybe I'm not the guy to consult. After all, I'm the idiot that liked Ghosts.

In space there will be generic white dudes.

SO SAY WE ALL

I didn't think that Battlestar Galactica would be the direction Call of Duty would head in, but I'm glad they did. Because Battlestar Galactica is dope as hell.

Instead of ripping off Tom Clancy or the exploits of Richard Marchinko, this time around, they've decided that late 2000's sci-fi is the way to go. It's a good fit. Space is an appropriately dangerous and grim place. It's an environment where a pin-prick hole can kill you just as quick as automatic gunfire. But also there's both. There's no room to fuck around. . .  But also space is a really fun place to fuck around in. While BSG was never about the joy of duking it out in space, Infinite Warfare does convey the high-stakes thrills of pulling off something as impossible as not dying from literally everything at once. . . in space.

Unlike BSG, Infinite Warfare actually has a strong ending. A poignant one. Maybe too poignant. I haven't felt this way about the ending of an FPS since Medal of Honor-- Again, that is a distinction that nobody else has probably drawn about this game or any other. There is a grimness to Infinite Warfare that goes beyond the previous CoD games. Yeah, they've nuked you and shot you and shot you and blown you up and shot you again, but there is a diminishing returns to all of that. Infinite Warfare is different. Like BSG, the horror of war in space isn't set dressing, it is a thesis. It says, in a way that needs to be restated, emphatically, ever so often, that war, war is a real son of a bitch.

So say we all.

IS THAT APPLESEED?















Yeah, that's an Appleseed.

Good work, Infinity Ward.

Good work, Ethan.

Anyways, I mention this because the art design of these games has been all over the place. Specifically, Treyarch and their Black Ops series (especially II and III) seem to have all of the wit of a mid-90's CGI football commercial. Everything is all bulk and pads. The few robots that they had in BlOps II and III were ugly, boxy messes in the same vein (personally, I thought the robots in BlOps II looked like the juggernauts from the Warhammer universe, but without being some kind of hell-rhino, which, arguably, is the entire appeal of the Warhammer juggernauts).

Even the knives are needlessly complicated. Just look at how dumb these things look.

Who decided to complicate what knives look like?

I mean, besides the bad guy from Cobra.

Also, how come nobody had fucking sleeves in Black Ops II? Ugh . . .

Infinite Warfare* is a break away from that. They went whole hog into the future and they designed a world that both makes sense on an aesthetic level and makes sense on a mythological level. It's a consummate world that looks really neat. It's a world that fits in more alongside something like Deus Ex than it does Modern Warfare.

I'm also glad that I get to talk about Appleseed in public.

Next up: My opinions about Battle Angel Alita.

GHOSTS OF GHOSTS

As I said earlier: I was the guy that liked Ghosts. If anybody ever asks you "What kind of an asshole liked that game" you can tell them "It was James Kislingbury. It was him. Let's go stop him."

I liked it. But, again, see above: I'm a madman. But, before you burn me at the stake, hear me out (I mean, you've come this far)--

There are two main things that I liked about Ghosts. The first is that it took place in Southern California and the American West.

Maybe it's a masochistic kind of narcissism, but it's cool to fight a bunch of enemy militia members in a location that's less than a mile from my work. It's also nice to see Santa Monica get blown up, because fuck Santa Monica. Also, that game had a dog. You had to drag that dog to a medevac. I loved that little guy.

What's interesting is that it presaged the direction that first person shooters. Games have moved on from the "modern warfare" end of things.  The market has been saturated for a good ten years and groups like ISIS are too real to have fun with (and, again, we shot UBL years ago and it was awesome). Less successful imitators like Spec Ops: The Line and the Medal of Honor reboot have also probably pushed developers into safer markets.

So, they've gone in two directions: The Future (see Titanfall 1 and 2, Destiny, DOOM) or The Past (Battlefield One, Verdun, Wolfenstein: The New Order) or both at the same time (see: Black Ops II). This isn't a perfect analysis, but you see my point?

Then there was Ghosts. Ghosts came out on current gen and previous gen systems. It was split. So were its themes. It couldn't break away from the series' previous trappings, having neither been futuristic enough or stripped down enough to really matter. It was a game that

Infinite Warfare completes this loop. We're finally in the future. Black Ops II and III didn't quite do it and Ghosts was too trapped in the past. Now here we are: Space ships. Space marines. Orks. Mars. Lasers. You know, the future-ass future. And it's kind of neat.

THE TITLE

It's a really good title**.

Fight me.

SHOOTING PEOPLE IS FUN

Yeah, some ten years since the first Call of Duty, it's still fun to murder fools over the internet. It's also fun to murder robots. And robots pretending to be people. And people pretending to be robots. . . You get the picture. As a shooter, Infinite Warfare comes through and delivers the kind of top notch polish and shine that you expect out of a Call of Duty. While that sounds like damning with faint praise, consider how tight Modern Warfare felt when it first came out. It still feels good.

As much as I love Titanfall 2 (which is my go-to for multiplayer this season), that's a game that just doesn't quite have the fine sheen that this game does. Which doesn't so much ruin one game or make the other as it does make me appreciate just how much money Activision poured into this game. It's there. It looks like it. It feels like it.

If nothing else, the economics of Infinite Warfare should leave an impression.

SO, WHAT ELSE?

What I think is going to be fun is seeing what the hell they're going to do with the next installment (which falls on Treyarch this time around). It isn't like they can go even farther (further?) into the future and any half-steps at this point better be well thought out, because nobody is going to go back to the farm after they've done a double-jump into a wall run.

Personally, I'm hoping for some kind of historical remix weirdness. Sending soldiers through quantum tunnels to fight in alternate historical time lines with modern weapons. Like William Gibson's The Peripheral, but vastly dumber. Or go back to Nam. I'd be okay with that. Or cyberpunk. You know, like those other William Gibson novels. All of this works. I'll even take a game with a difference engine in it.

Gimme that dumb stuff, Treyarch. I know you can do it.

Give me Space Reznov. And, for that matter, Infinity Ward needs to bring back Captain Price. Space Price. Thawed out to beat up the future, because they don't build MEN like they used to. Or mustaches. The aliens took our mustaches and we need 'em back Price.

At least somebody give me that dog from Ghosts back. Can't be that hard. . .

James Kislingbury writes, draws, and makes podcasts. He also hates updating his log line. That's what this is, right? Aw, who cares?

*The more I think about it, the more I realize how cool of a game Advance Warfare was. That game did a lot of really neat things that I don't think people appreciated. At least not that I noticed. I tend to stay off of the internet, because it's a freaking full-time nightmare zone.

**I mean, yeah, it's kind of a "Fuck you" to Sledgehammer and Advance Warfare, but what are you going to do? Infinity Ward was there first and it's a really good title.

"START WITH AN EARTHQUAKE AND END WITH A CLIMAX"

THEY MADE A MOVIE FOR ALL OF THE 12 YEAR OLDS IN THE WORLD
A review of Pacific Rim (2013)

Back in the day, around about 1940-something the term “blockbuster” was invented. As the Royal Air Force wasn't super concerned with film at the time, the word was attached to the biggest bombs they had. These things weighed at least two tons and, as you can imagine, were believed to be powerful enough to destroy an entire city block. Bad news for Jerry, but what a turn of phrase!

Pacific Rim is a blockbuster in the best way possible. It's a loud, monstrous thing that does exactly what it is intended to do and does exactly what we want it to. In a summer loaded with stillborn star vehicles and limp re-boots and a sequel that I guess only I liked, it's good to see that a blockbuster doesn't have to choose between being big and being good.

Pacific Rim works because it launches into its ideas with such sincerity that you never for a second pause to laugh at it or wonder about the feasibility of an intergalactic robot war. It isn't cynical or ironic in a way that you don't see in special effects movies very often any more. It doesn't apologize for being a movie about pretty people in giant robots duking it out with intergalactic monsters. You're worried about other things than how realistic this all is by the time the narrator finishes his first sentence.

It's Robot Jox* mashed up with Neon Genesis Evangelion through the lens a man who has clearly watched way too many WWII movies. In short, it's everything a twelve year old ever wanted to see in a movie It isn't what people think a 12 year old wants to see. It isn't what they are told that they want to see. It isn't what they end up seeing because nothing else looks good. This is the movie that every 12 year old ever wanted.

It's a film wrapped in a love and a care of a subject matter, but it also wants to make a good movie. It moves beyond tribute and pastiche and actually manages to become a movie that is fantastic on its own merits. It makes me want to go watch more movies, because it's a film that reminds you just how wonderful this medium can be. I think I should feel very silly saying this about a giant monster movie and yet I still feel like an idiot. I realize this is a problem with me. This clearly isn't a problem with Guillermo Del Toro, who seems to be about a confident of a hand behind the camera as there ever could be.

This is a movie that is as good as you remember Godzilla versus Biollante being.

OH WAIT, GROSS

Ugh. I just remembered that Jobs was one of the trailers before the movie. Jeezus does that looks like it's going to be a shit show.

The trailer contains the whole arc of the movie. The reveal of the iPad is meant to look like this epic, spellbinding moment, an event of human triumph over conformity expect that it's a multi-millionaire revealing a fucking gadget.

I blame The Social Network for this.

Not pictured: The dog's name.

THE SPIRIT OF THE BLITZ

On the very same flagship film program that Del Toro was interviewed in Simon Mayo mentioned that this film gave him the vibe of an old WWII flight movie and in a general sense it reminded him of the feeling the people of England had during the Blitz. Del Toro copped to as much. He said that he was obsessed with that era, but you don't need his quote on this, all you have to do is look at his filmography.

This idea is embedded in the very design of the movie.When describing the jaegars, he said that Cherno-Alpha was a walking T-Series tank. Now, that's like saying that he's a walking Sherman tank or a walking Spitfire or, I don't know, a walking M1 helmet. For those who don't know what any of that means, it means that Cherno Alpha is a kinetic icon. It's a walking monument.

The T-series tanks are one of the biggest factors leading to the USSR winning against the Nazis. While the German were busy having guys like Porsche mold and design their tanks, the Soviets were busy slapping together tanks in converted tractor factories. Besides the fact that the USSR had an unparalleled labor pool and a ruthless despot that was willing to smash them against whatever obstacle necessary, it was pieces of engineering like the T-34 that turned the tide against the Germans. Plus, a tank makes a much better icon than a commissar shooting deserters and their family because they fled the Hun.

The other big Soviet icon that stands out to me is the “Wall of Life” mentioned in the beginning of the film. This is a direct reference to the “Road of Life” that ran over Lake Ladoga during the Siege of Leningrad.

Truckers (and sailors and pilots) ran all day and night, braving thin ice and German defenses to relieve the besieged people of Leningrad during their nine-hundred days of Nazi encirclement.

In one scene, in our hero (I just realized that I don't know his name. You know the one, he was in Undeclared), has a wall of photos in his room. There is his brother and kaiju and whatever else that makes up his past but, my eye went to the one I know, the one I knew was the point of the scene: The Motherland Calls. The statue was built as a memorial to the defense of Stalingrad, one of the bloodiest, longest battles in history. It's an icon to the spirit of the USSR and to anyone else who had their back up against the wall because of an incredible evil.

These seemingly little touches are what makes the film greater than the sum of its parts. It's the little references like this that show that Del Toro knows what he's doing and that he has an affection for it, and that he doesn't need to cram it down your throat. It's all there on film, all you need to do is look for it. But you can also just look at the alien dinosaurs gets punched and that's cool too.

Oh, also it's probably named after a nuclear disaster and has a cooling tower for a head. So, you know, subtext.

I WISH EBERT WAS ALIVE

Part of me has come to accept genre movies, to legitimately accept stupid, silly things. As much as I love “serious” movies, that doesn't mean that I have to then dislike something else. This is not a zero sum game and Roger Ebert was the expert balancing fine art with fine froth.

I watched the Seventh Seal probably because of him. I love The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly as much as I do now because he loved it so much. I watched The Proposition and read Blood Meridian because of him. And I love explosions because he said that's okay. And I also hate explosions in equal measure because he said that's okay, too. It's all okay. I don't have to choose.

He has a list on Criterion of some of his Great Movie and on the other hand he actually enjoyed Speed 2: Cruise Control. He wasn't ever a rube, though. Some of his most enjoyable work was when he used his Pulitzer as a blugeon to shame sod-bustingly stupid films like they were paying for it. Quietly, though, Ebert's strength to me was how well he could sell you on his opinion, no matter how much you actually disagreed with it, you'd read his review and go "Well, I can see that."

Mark Kermode, my favorite living film critic, is your excitable friend at a party talking to you about HOW HAVE YOU NEVER LISTENED TO JESUS OF COOL, whereas Ebert was a guy just talking to you across two cups of coffee at a diner. By the end of the conversation, which he would be leading the whole time, despite your best efforts, you'd walk out either agreeing with him or having been coached into knowing better than you once did. He had an underlying decency in him that a lot of people just cannot muster. That goes for everyone, not just film critics.

I honestly wish he could have seen this movie. I honestly wish I could have read what he said about this. Whether I agreed with him or not, I know he would have been right in his own way. Really, though, as much as I used him as a recommendation guide or a taste maker or anything else, I really want to hear that I am right. I love this movie. And I wish that he could have loved this movie too.

I don't know if that's incredibly sappy or incredibly self-centered or just plain dumb. All I know is that considering how so much of this week has gone, I think we could use more of the good people and Roger Ebert was most certainly one of them.

I MADE THIS ROBOT WAR FOR YOU

Pacific Rim works on its own as a film and one of the main reasons it does so is that it is pulling from a much larger body of works than the mere monster movie. World War II as a genre and as a moment in history obviously weighs heavy in this movie's influences, but so does Japanese anime and the Japanese monster movie (I mean, it takes the word "kaiju" from the eponymous genre. So,yeah, duh).

There's something slightly odd about that because the original animes and giant robot movies that this movie is inspired by comes out of the consequences of World War II.

The Japanese were living in the shadow of some existential terror that they couldn't exactly put a name to. Nobody wanted to make a movie about how their new friends the Americans bombed the shit out of them. I'm also sure that nobody wanted to watch that sort of movie. I mean, we did the same thing, but we had the pleasure of having won, at least.

So what did they do? Atomic monsters. Giant robots. These things were meant to be entertainment, first and foremost, but they were also a way to tell a story about a time that no one really wanted to talk about, at least not directly. And they're not alone. We made The Day the Earth Stood still. Jack Finney made Invasion of the Body Snatchers. In that way Pacific Rim carries on the allegorical energy of those works, as well as the aesthetic energy. It carries on in the tradition not only of Japanese science fiction, but big idea science fiction in general. In that way, it's more of a traditional science fiction film than is Star Trek No Colon Into Darkness.

Beyond Gigantor, the particular anime that I am reminded of is "Cannon Fodder," one of the shorts in the film Memories.The world of "Cannon Fodder" is very basic: The life of every citizen is geared towards producing, servicing, and firing shells. That is it. Go to sleep. Wake up. Work on the cannons. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. There is nothing else. There isn't even an enemy that we know of, there's just this Gormanghast/Airstrip-One-like city-state that solely exists to maintain a tradition for the sake of itself.

When I saw a bunch of dudes in jumpsuits flying down ladders I figured out that I was watching Cannon Town realized in live action. And I'm not sure if that's intentional or not. I'm sure it is intentional. Guillermo Del Toro is a pretty sharp guy, I'll give him at least partial credit.

Pacific Rim, notably, is not a dystopia and it's not an allegory. It's a messed up world with a lot of serious, horrible problems, but it isn't a world that has given up on itself. It isn't a place that hates its people. It is still a place worth fighting for and a place in which you can invest your emotions. The world of Pacific Rim, its Wall of Life and its high death toll and all is a place worth calling home. It's a place that is worth fighting for.

SPOILER: THE REAL MONSTER IS MAN

The title of this entry is taken from something I heard listening to Mark Kermode. He was quoting Mark Robinson speaking on his movie Earthquake. I can't think of a better way to describe the pacing and tone of Pacific Rim than that.So, good work, Dr. Kermode. Thanks for taking that away from me.

For whatever flaws Pacific Rim may have, you can't fault it for its ambitions. It is an attempt to do something new, even if it is heavily based on the works of the past and as far as world building goes, Del Toro might be on par with Ridley Scott. Besides all of the set dressing and the references directed at a time and place that only jerks like me are that interested, what remains is what a blockbuster should be (besides, of course, the massive financial success. You know. That ol' thing).

If I had written this a few months ago, I think I would have tried to position this film as a genre movie that delivered. And it is that. Saying that "I got what I wanted out of it" makes it sound like it's a whore or something. It makes it sound like it is a trifle. It's more than that, though, because the more I think about it and the more I look around, I realize that making a good genre film is fucking hard. It takes a lot of time, talent, and energy to spin something like robots and monsters into a worthwhile feature and Del Toro certainly has that.

Top to bottom, from stratosphere to oceanic trench, Pacific Rim is a delight. Go see it in the theaters. Go see it now. This is the kind of city destroying spectacle that should be encouraged.
 

*I watched Robot Jox on TV way back in 1994 and again on a rented video, so I'm not mentioning it solely because Red Letter Media had a go at it, but I am definitely mentioning it because Red Letter Media had a go at it and that's what I like to do. I was into Robo Jox before it was uncool.

SIDE NOTE: Here's another perspective worth reading on. As much as criticism is about rolling around in your own words and feeling satisfied, I think this bit of writing gets to something we (I) forget about sometimes, which is that movies are meant to be watched. Film is a visual medium and as much as I think I could wax on about that for a really long time, I'd be missing the point. What the above article points out is that Pacific Rim, and film in a broader sense, is as much about conveying story and information on a visual and kinetic level as it is about telling you things through language. The best example of this that I can think of (especially when it comes to sci-fi) is 2001: A Space Odyssey, which is as primal of film story telling as you can get, as well as probably being one of the most sophisticated pieces of art in this particular visual medium. Go read that thing.

  James Kislingbury is a writer, podcaster, and an enemy pilot. You can follow him on twitter.