Monster bigger than bureaucracy

At first glance of the monster, you would not think that Shin Godzilla was created in 2016 by directors Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi. The computer-generated imagery made the monster look like a comic lizard with raisin skin and googly eyes, making it appear more funny than frightening. Perhaps it was nostalgic in a sense, given the historical reputation of the Godzilla films; but for me, it was odd to have a rather poorly-curated aesthetic for the monster.

Noticeably, however, the film did not focus on the monster as much as I thought it would. Instead, most of the film featured the havoc wreaked by the beast, panicked people running and fleeing, and of course, officials of the Japanese government and other relevant institutions going through the bureaucracy of handling this national calamity. There were a lot of people in the film but there were hardly any characters, as in people with some distinguishable character. Almost all of the people in the film were undifferentiated and kind of bland, meaning there was hardly anyone I could related to or root for. I felt bombarded by the sheer amount of people in the film, though, as every new person was introduced with Japanese characters and English subtitles.

Despite my qualms against the undeveloped characters, I do admire the actors’ on-screen skills. I might have no prior experience in film classes, but I have acted for quite a few of my COM friends’ short films so I can recognize the rigor and discipline necessary to achieve a clean one-take wonder shot. The camera movement was remarkable, as there were many instances when it moved swiftly yet smoothly. It was also able to fully capture the intensity of the monster’s actions and the wreckage, as well as the urgency in the simplest transfer from the board room to a war room.

Due to the slightly light-hearted approach of this film, viewers (especially those who are unaffected by Japan’s historical events and government structure) would find it comical and mostly satirical. But as someone who has been taking classes on disaster risk reduction and human rights, I got irked by people’s humor at the horrific destruction left in the wake of Godzilla. Bureaucracy is both a gift and a curse: a gift, as it stabilizes people and gives them a societal structure to hold onto, especially when the world seems crumbling; but also a curse, as it necessitates going through strictness of protocol, hierarchy of authorities, and recognition of accountability. Intervening international organizations, such as the United Nations, are important in this situation, but in the face of the United Nations’ recommendation to nuke the beast, the Japanese government was still understandably hesitant — thus the formation of a seemingly group of misfits who were “general pains-in-the-bureaucracy” reveals the critical role of local experts and interdisciplinary ad hoc committees for the time-bound crises such as these.

As a science fiction enthusiast, I became hooked with the work of Rando Yaguchi and his group, especially when they (1) discovered the monster’s origins, (2) uncovered Goro Maki’s codified research notes and how to decipher it, and (3) skillfully executed the deep-freeze plan merely hours before the scheduled nuclear attack. In spite of the heightened anxiety and excitement at the final attack and success, the conclusion of the film was barely triumphant — but still, in a way, hopeful for the future.

Pare, ‘Schizopolis’ Ako

From the get-go, Steven Soderbergh’s Schizopolis (1996) is visibly preoccupied with the confusion of its audience and its ultimate goal is to have its audience baffled. But even then, there has to be a unique sort of cohesion between the elements and scenes in the movie which are not only intended to confuse us, but also push the narrative forward.

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As soon as the movie starts, it begs you to understand what’s going on since doing otherwise would be deemed your fault. But what if that really is the film’s intention? That you don’t understand it. We see this in all three separate acts of the film, which each act even weirder than the one before.

The film is quite absurd and difficult to understand when watching for the first time and may require viewing more than once to fully comprehend the story (that is, if it is even possible to understand at all). At first glance, it seems like a glimpse into the life of a corporate slave in the form of Fletcher Munson which then transitions to the home situation between him and his wife. The film does not seem to follow a traditionally linear narrative since as the film goes on, scenes from earlier on repeat but in the perspective of a different character with slightly different dialogue and a completely different language dubbed over.

If that wasn’t weird or confusing enough already, the movie also made use of dialogue that sounds like it was plucked right out of a Nathan W. Pyle comic. Then the wife cheats on Fletcher with his doppelgänger called Dr. Jeffrey Korchek who then also falls in love with the wife’s doppelgänger, the aptly named Attractive Woman #2. Since both doppelgängers were played by the same actors as the main characters, there had been points wherein I’d be thrown off even more than usual by the story.

Besides these characters, we also have the eccentric Elmo Oxygen who is an enigma of his own. As a local exterminator, he goes around from house to house, all the while having sex with married women. In making sense of his scenes, we focus on the character’s actions for context since the dialogue is mostly made up of nonsensical words strung together. In another part of the film, we look to his words instead since, this time, his actions do not make complete sense (but then again, when has anything ever made sense in this film?) Overall, Schizopolis felt like it was both all over the place and not at the same time. It was like trying make sense of the nonsensical. This did, however, add to the film’s appeal.

There were times when the movie felt a bit dragging or boring, but I feel like the sheer absurdity of it all kept me from falling asleep while watching as I tried to make sense of everything going on onscreen. I remember feeling thoroughly confused as I left the room that day, but not in the least bit disappointed about what I had just watched.

The Endless

The Endless is the movie that made me feel frustrated and thankful at the same time. I was frustrated at Aaron even from the beginning. After learning that they escaped that place when they were young, I was shocked that Aaron would want to come back. His brother told stories of how where they came from was a cult. I would rather believe Justin who thought that it was a UFO death cult to save my life, rather than from Aaron who was still a young kid who barely remembers anything from when he was there.

I never liked horror films and after seeing the birds that formed a circle, I thought this movie was gonna involve witches and the like. I was not entirely wrong, though. The Endless involves aliens or unknown beings that make use of humans for their own amusement.

Upon hearing from Justin that the people from the community never aged at all even if it has been years since he last saw them, that already creeped me out. I wondered why they were not leaving yet.

I read a summary once again of the movie and I saw that at the ending, Justin told Aaron to refill the gas tank, but Aaron said that the car’s gas tank gauge has always read empty. I don’t know if this were anything significant but I thought this could mean that they did not really truly escape. They are stuck in a loop that makes them think that they were able to escape.

The Schizo Situation

Fixed with a proper suit, acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh strides confidently to the stage and does three things: first, he acknowledges that speaking to the viewers was “unusual”; second, he declares that “this is the most important motion picture you will ever attend”— so important that everyone must watch it, or else the delicate fabric which holds us all together will be ripped apart; third, he warns viewers that some scenes would be confusing (and the confusion would be the viewers’ fault), thus it would require multiple and repetitive viewing of the film so that one could understand its elements.

This breaking of the fourth wall was unconventional, especially for the era when the film was released, but it set the mood for the film: as some weird type of comedy. Soderbergh’s declarations set my bar of expectation higher: as someone who rarely dares to venture out of my comfortable and safe little bubble of mainstream feel-good films, I felt curiosity and a surge of excitement upon his announcement. I went into Schizopolis (1996) with high hopes and expectations on its “importance.”

Barely a few minutes into the film, however, I was already distraught. The plot line did not feel like a line at all, but rather like an attempt to make a favorite Filipino summertime dessert — halo-halo. It features a variety of elements, most of which are shaky camera shots, nonsensical dialogue, doppelgangers, and straight-up disjointed scenes, but all mixed into something that would eventually make you smile and laugh in enjoyment and confusion.

First, the shaky camera shots gave me a headache. I did not know where to look or what to focus on as it was all a blur, especially car scenes, so I just tried to fix my eyes on a steady spot so that I would be able to bear the scene. Even though these kinds of shots made it difficult for me to remember them or to follow the story, they served to be entertaining in the bigger picture.

Second, the nonsensical dialogue reminded me of three things: Ewoks in Star Wars, Minions in Despicable Me, and Nathan Pyle’s alien comic strip. We really just string together words, sounds, tones, actions, and facial expression in an attempt to effectively communicate with each other. Funnily enough, even if I did not understand a word of — was that Japanese? — I could still figure out the gist of what they were talking about in some scenes.

Third, the doppelgangers were difficult to identify at first. I thought that Steven Soderbergh’s character was just a guy like the character Xu (and Dock and Bushi) in Avatar: Legend of Aang Book Three: Fire, Episode Three entitled The Painted Lady — someone who lived life as different people. It was hilarious to me when Mrs. Munson was seemingly cheating on her husband with someone who looked exactly like her husband. After watching the film several times, I still do not know how to correctly understand or interpret the doppelganger situation of Fletcher Munson and Dr. Jeffrey Korchek, but I am certain that it will always, without fail, make me laugh.

Traditionally, I follow a film’s narrative by focusing on a main character and their journey in the film. The characters were ordinary people going about their daily lives; but as the film only jumps from one glimpse of a life to another, I could not follow the story (if there ever was one). Trying to follow the story felt like being in a class where your professor switches slides so fast that you can barely keep up with the discussion. However, despite the disjointed scenes, I came out of the film with a slight idea on what had happened but with a full assurance that I had enjoyed not having a definitive interpretation of it. This was primarily because the film was already difficult to intellectually comprehend at face value so I did not have the capacity to go into an all-out meaning-based explanation.

And that, my friends, is the story of how Schizopolis got me out of my comfort zone and dragged me into a multiverse of (there is no other way to put it) weird films.

Sorry To Bother You

The things I loved most about Sorry to Bother You were the dialogue and the script, which were so hilarious, that it lodged itself as one of my favorite films we watched in class. There was never a dull moment in it. I loved the casting, too, because each character had very fitting personalities for the roles they play.

I love how it talked about deep-rooted issues like capitalism, racism, and consumerism, without being so in-your-face about it. However, I personally wished it was more subdued than that.

This was the message I got from the film: we’re all under the system of capitalism and we’re all victims–so it isn’t exactly right to look down on those who are not actively against it or who doesn’t fight against it. After all, what can that person do when he’s presented an insane amount of money and he was about to be homeless and his uncle was about to get kicked out of the house? In that case, he was forced to take the money, even if it means he was betraying the union that was formed because of his job. I felt for the main character with his story, even if it were deemed wrong for him to take the job. The contrast can be seen in Detriot and Cash, where Detriot is an artist-activist.

However, there were times where you truly become a bad person because you end up doing whatever it takes to get money even if you already have too much; like the man who turned men into horses for labor. He was the CEO of his company, WorryFree, and he lives as if he’s in The Great Gatsby, where he is is so out of touch with the workers and their sufferings. In the end, you will realize just how ridiculous everything is, and how it controls every single thing and choice we do.

The plot also tackled racism, in which slavery seemed to be redesigned within the WorryFree company. Cash even had to have his “white voice” when working, because if he were to use his normal voice as a black person, he would not be able to secure his job. It showed white privilege because he was promoted as a “power caller,” people who received higher salary and more perks. He felt like he was important because, he says, for once, he was doing something he was good at. To add to this, Cash’s white voice was dubbed by an actual white person for the film.

I really like this film because it talked about the complexities of the issues in a way that is just as complex. It presented these matters in a manner outside the usual ‘black and white’ contention, but it still asserted an obvious ‘ultimate’ side.

The Endless: The Loop and Circles

The Endless (2017) is a science fiction horror film that tells the story of two brothers, Justin and Aaron, who visit a camp of what Justin called a cult. They formerly belonged to this cult and had made outrageous statements against them prior to the timeline of the film in an attempt to get out. The brothers went back to the camp to get the closure that they want (and probably need) and closure and full knowledge of the camp is what they get.

Honestly, when Justin said that the ones in Camp Arcadia are in a cult, the first thing in my mind was that they were probably one of those that conduct weird and nerve-wracking rituals. Those that offer blood of the virgin, bone of a loyal servant, and all that. But the people in the camp aren’t really like that… at all.

One of the scenes that baffle me up to this point is the scene where the “cult” plays a game of tug-of-war against a rope that ascends into the dark sky. Aaron was asked to participate in the game to which he happily obliges. I must admit though that when Aaron started to tie the rope into a knot, I kind of actually thought he was going to attach the knot onto his neck.

It is amazing to watch how Aaron kept himself oblivious and ignorant of all the things that was things that was happening in Camp Arcadia because all of those things were weird. Even if they were not having exactly a good life outside the camp, it’s not enough of a reason for him not to feel all those weird things happening around him. At this point, I’m tempted to think he had been enchanted of some sort by the unknown entity just so he would have more humans as entertainment.

The part where there is this guy who just keeps on running without stopping for them (or anything actually) got me with some thoughts in my head. More than being a horror film, it reminded me more of an NPC (non-player character) in a role-playing game. Except that he wasn’t. He was just really stuck in his own loop.

It was heartbreaking in the film to see the couple separated by the loops. They were so close yet so far. The loops made them feel as if they were living in entirely different universes. It was only Justin who knew that the one they were searching for, each other, was just actually a few walks away but they can’t walk that far. There they were, stuck in their loops, all for the entertainment of some unknown entity they cannot fight, nor reason, or even just bargain with.

On a more personal level, it’s honestly kind of frustrating to think of such conditions in which the people in Camp Arcadia had to live in. Their existence was reduced to merely for entertainment of a higher entity and they had no way out. There was no way out available for them. They couldn’t even have the option of killing themselves because doing so would only restart the loop.

There was no brainwashing involved on the so-called cult but they lost their will. They lost their freedom. And there they were, stuck in a loop, all for another entity’s entertainment.

The Endless (2017)

The Endless (2017) felt like a very dark film from the get-go – it’s so devoid of color that it almost looks like there’s a permanent sepia filter on it. This suggests to us that we’re not going to see the happiest film, and we definitely did not. The main protagonists, Justin (Justin Benson) and Aaron (Aaron Moorhead), are brothers who are just barely living off minimum wage. Oh, and a few years ago, they escaped from a UFO death cult.

I think the way that the film framed the characters really affected my personal experience of the film. Justin acts as sort of a father figure to Aaron, who doesn’t understand the implications of a UFO death cult, and associates living in a cult with good things – the community of people, spending time with his family, and not having to eat instant ramen every day. This made me trust Justin more than I trusted Aaron. Everything Aaron said felt a little bit naive, while it was evident that Justin had a deeper understanding of what exactly being part of a UFO death cult entailed.

When we first see Camp Arcadia, there’s definitely something eerie about it, and the film succeeds in setting up this menacing image. It’s when the community, including Aaron, participates in the tug-of-war exercise, that we get the first inkling that something truly bizarre is afoot. Maybe these people actually are on to something. The Endless continuously challenges us – we don’t know what’s fake, and we definitely don’t know what’s real. There’s something so chilling about that – I felt like I was holding my breath for the majority of the film. There’s a lot of twists and turns in the film that you don’t see coming, but it’s not a traditional horror movie where you’d scream because of a jumpscare. It’s more of this perpetual feeling of unease and paranoia, because things aren’t what they seem. The scene in which the baseball that’s tossed up into the sky doesn’t immediately come back down immediately comes to my mind.

The moment the film establishes that this UFO death cult is not merely based on an illusion, I definitely became less skeptical of everything Aaron was saying. Justin, on the other hand, was obsessed with finding a logical explanation for everything. In the beginning, he definitely rejected all of the talk of UFOs, thinking that everybody was just being insane. But he soon realizes that the root cause of all these unfortunate and unexplainable events was something sinister brewing under (or above?) the surface.

The Endless grounds its narrative in a familiar story about sibling love. At the end of the day, you can tell that Justin and Aaron really care for each other, and there’s nothing like a near-death experience to test that love. I think that the film pulls this off well – it doesn’t feel forced, like they’re suddenly trying to make it more emotional than it should be. These two brothers are just searching for a home, because no place that they’ve ever lived in has really, truly, felt like one.

Shin Godzilla (Where’s Mechagodzilla?)

I first watched a Godzilla film when I was 6, I think—the Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla film from 1993. It was on a VHS tape and it would take a while to rewind to the beginning, but of course it was worth it. I used to watch it with my brother a lot and my mom would leave us in the room with some snacks, not to be disturbed by anything. I loved it so much that when I got my first Lego set, I tried creating Mechagodzilla, only to realize that I lack pieces for it and I had to ask my mom to buy another set. Godzilla was definitely part of my childhood.

Watching Shin Godzilla was a different experience because it’s so different from the Godzilla I remember. Everything was so modern compared to the 1993 film with bad visual effects and Godzilla himself who looked very different. The old film had three main monster characters—Godzilla, Mechagodzilla, and the robot Pterodactyl. The latter two characters were not present in Shin Godzilla, which, for me at least, makes it refreshing and interesting to watch.

The first point I would like to point out is the linear storytelling of the film. While I don’t see it as a problem, I feel like the film would’ve been more exciting and thought-provoking if there was a short part during the beginning showing the professor and how he discovered the Godzilla’s emergence through radiation. It would’ve piqued the interest of the audience more, in my opinion. Everything else was perfect for the linear storytelling.

Second, the visual effects. I loved it. They weren’t as realistic as most of today’s Hollywood films, but I think that’s what made the film still feel like the quintessential story everyone knows—the comics classic it really is! The explosions, fires, and lasers that Godzilla spewed from its back all felt comical. And it looked awesome! This is a proof that we don’t always have to use new technology and adapt to what seems more realistic in order to create great things. Let our imagination help us artistically. I mean we’re in 2019 right now yet film photography and camcorders seem to have found their way back into our consciousness. It’s amazing and I am very much here for it.

Third point is about Japan. I felt jealous just watching how efficient and swiftly their government worked to tackle the issues—the evacuation process, the information dissemination, the emergency meetings, etc. While they may have their own issues of redundancy and political feud, they were overall effective in trying to solve the catastrophe of having an unidentified creature wrecking their cities and pacifying the United Nations in a diplomatic way. The whole time, I was telling myself “If only this was how our government worked…” I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one thinking this.

Lastly, the target audience of the film. Right off the bat I already felt like the film wasn’t trying to be a Hollywood blockbuster. There were a lot of references I’m pretty sure we missed as a Filipino audience, but would’ve been helpful in satisfying their Japanese audience. And to me that is perfectly ok. The Westerners can suck it. We all have our own distinct way of filmmaking and I don’t think Hollywood’s style is the superior one at that.

Overall, I liked it. The ending made it extra special for me because of the story arc of Rando and Kayoko. It’s a cute romance that would be nice to be carried over to the sequel, if there’s any. I hope there is.

Velvet Goldmine

Velvet Goldmine felt like one long glamorous music video. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or a good thing, but I instantly knew that I was a big fan of the production and costume design. It was quite a visual treat, and I was actively thinking about the amount of budget, research, and effort they put into this. I love the glitters and the costumes with bold colors.

The cinematography was also something I noticed, as it often had scenes of fast close-ups to emphasize an expression. It was the old-school type of cinematography done on purpose to match the era. There were a lot of performances, too, and I noticed the camera doing shaky close-ups to show the energy in the most realistic way. There was even a scene where the filter changed into a dream-like state on the party Jack Fairy was at.

The film was a commentary on stardom and fan culture–something I am most familiar with, and in fact really close to me. I’ve been a fan of things my whole life. I’ve been into countless fanbases of TV series, celebrities, Western boy bands, and everything K-pop, and at this point I pretty much feel like I’m an expert at this. I grew up idolizing people who don’t even know me, but had a great impact on me. I could definitely resonate with the character of Arthur Stewart, who grew up with Brian Slade as his idol.

With Brian Slade’s rise and fall as an icon and figure in the music industry, I immediately thought of my experience as a fan. One of the K-pop idols I look up to, Seungri, has been involved in a scandal related to prostitution and embezzlement. I witnessed the highest point of his career and his lowest, like Arthur Stewart with Brian Slade. It’s honestly hard–and even painful–to reconcile with the fact that I’ve had so much faith in him and saw him as such a good person, only to find out that he really was involved in cases of prostitution and other such matters. I already have an attachment with him as a fan, but in the end, I couldn’t bear to support him still. I had to let that go.

I think it’s very easy to belittle or judge a fan, and sometimes fans are even embarrassed to admit that they are fans. It’s because the common perception of us are a bunch of teenage girls screaming over people who don’t know us, or that we are mindlessly obsessing over our favorite idols. It may be true for some, but as someone who had been a fan of different groups and shows for years, I know it’s more than that. The cultural impact is real. The content these idols or celebrities put out speaks to us on a personal level because these are shared experiences and stories we can relate to. There are moments where fans have this deep, genuine, and personal gratitude for their favorite idols. There’s this bond fans and idols have, and others may think it’s superficial but I know that the community built within the fandom and with the idol is real. The friendships made are real. The impact is real, just like how Brian Slade became a way for Arthur Steward to accept his sexuality and to find himself.

Velvet Goldmine

Velvet Goldmine is one of the films I liked. It portrayed two different stories: first, it showed a man who knew who we wanted to be, yet did not really expressed his real sexual identity, and years later, it came rushing back to him after being assigned a report he has to do that involved his childhood. Second, the movie also showed the rise and fall of Brian Slade.

A few minutes into the film, I immediately noticed the big screen that shows Tommy Stone. I felt like there is an importance to that, and later in the movie, that feeling I had was confirmed when it was revealed that Brian Slade is Tommy Stone.

The movie depicted the story Brian Slade. It showed how his aspiration made and broke him. He always wanted to become different each time, and maybe he took it too far when he faked his own death on stage.

From what I saw online, the movie was actually supposed to be a project for David Bowie, but he disapproved it. This “limitation” however, set the movie free, as there is no historical restrictions for the directors to employ. They are free to do whatever they want.

I liked the way it was told, from a closeted fan’s perspective. Arthur Stuart had to go back from where he came from and reminisce the times when he had to hide his real identity from his parents. He was professional still, doing his job as a journalist. He uncovered the truth about Brian Slade’s faux death and Tommy Stone’s real identity.