Mantis update

free web site hit counterThe two dozen or so mantises that we kept from the last batch have, er, “sorted things out” between them and we are now left with three robust, healthy specimens: Ceiling, so-called because of his habit for living on the ceiling of his container, Booie, named after a friend’s dog, and Snacks, who, well, I don’t know where his name came from.  The one pictured above is Ceiling.  Each has had his or her first “skin shedding” and is turning from brown to green.  As you can see, they are still less than an inch long after a couple of weeks of devouring fruit flies as quickly as they can catch them.

Venture Bros: The Invisible Hand of Fate

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Part-way through my third viewing of “The Invisible Hand of Fate” it occurred to me that The Venture Bros is a show so wide-ranging in its conception and subject-matter, so ambitious in its scope, that there is, for all intents and purposes, no “typical episode” of the show. A show like Scooby-Doo, or VB‘s inspiration Jonny Quest, were, of necessity, the same show over and over again, but while The Venture Bros. repeats and strengthens themes and motifs and plot devices, it also repeatedly upends audience expectations to the point where you can tune in and be confident that your concept, whatever it is, will be blasted.

“The Invisible Hand of Fate” may be a “flashback” show, but it’s not like “Shadowman 9”, it doesn’t repeatedly flash-forward again to a static dramatic situation. It’s closer to something like a prequel, an episode where we find out a little more about how certain characters got to where they are today. I’ll admit, the story of Master Billy Quizboy was not a narrative I felt I had a burning need to know, but “Invisible Hand of Fate” pretty much blew me away.

So Billy injures himself in the bathroom of the trailer he shares with White, and suddenly remembers his past, which seems to take place at the intersection of Magnolia Street and Quiz Show Boulevard. Billy is, apparently, a brighter-than-average prodigy whose life-plan involves attending MIT and becoming a super-scientist like his boyhood idol Rusty Venture. He is, of course, thinking of the Rusty Venture of TV, not the balding, pony-tailed lout currently drinking himself to the floor of an empty bar. Billy, like many in the VB universe, is a decent-enough freak with big ambitions, heading for disappointment, disillusion and failure.

Billy’s brilliant career as a quiz-show prodigy is undone in a moment by one “Todd,” the quizzee to his left. As a life-long watcher of televisual “Todds”, I have often noted that any character named “Todd” is either presented as a lazy-eyed, buck-toothed moron or an over-educated, uptight Poindexter. I congratulate The Venture Bros for somehow managing to combine both of these archetypes in one Todd — a buck-tooth, lazy-eyed, over-educated uptight Poindexter.

White tries to console Billy with a line about how the “invisible hand of fate” has brought him to this point, but of course nothing could be further from the truth. Billy might have had the wrong answer in the quiz show final, but it was White who turned him into a cheater for the sake of ratings, ruining both their lives and leaving them inextricably linked for the rest of their lives. On the other hand, it appears that White cheated for Billy out of a sense of camaraderie — “we freaks have to stick together” — so his actions could be seen as rooted in affection.

(Which leads me to wonder — are White and Billy lovers? Do I even want to know?)

Billy and White flee the quiz-show world and the episode takes a left-turn so abrupt that it looks like an out-of-order reel-change. The sudden G.I.Joe parody O.S.I., with the strike team that dresses like the Village People and the hyper-violent shenanigans with Sphinx, the Cobra-like evil organization they fight, is so bizarre, so astounding, such a strange confluence of references and influences that it resists easy interpretation — for me, anyway — and probably deserves an entry all of its own.

The already-complicated Venture Bros world gets more complicated when we learn that the Guild were the bad guys on “the old Rusty Venture TV show.” So, wait — in the world of The Venture Bros, Rusty Venture is a “real person,” and was also the star of a TV show, which either was or was not a dramatization of his “real life”? That is, did Rusty Venture really have adventures with his father and also star on a TV show about his own life, which was only tangentially related? And was the Rusty Venture TV show a cartoon show? That is, would the animated Rusty Venture in The Venture Bros. look different from the “Rusty Venture” character in the Rusty Venture TV show? And does that mean that when we see Rusty in boyhood flashbacks, we’re seeing scenes from his “real life,” or scenes from his TV show?

To make things even weirder, we see Jonny Quest’s bodyguard Race Bannon at O.S.I. HQ torturing someone who, I’d guess, was a minor character on Jonny Quest but my computer monitor could not bring into sharp enough focus to identify. Also at O.S.I. HQ we meet two young men, a blond and redhead, who bear suspicious resemblance to Hank and Dean Venture, albeit with personalities reversed — the blond is a squeaky-voiced nerd while the redhead is a broad-shouldered meathead. The significance of this I await to be eventually revealed.

Billy and White arrive at an “underground quizzing match” (nice thing about a Venture Bros plot, “underground quizzing match” is one of the least unusual story point) that seems to be hosted by, of all people, Andy Kaufman stand-in Tony Clifton.

We see that Billy is, in fact, a natural in the quiz arena — he rattles off the answer “the Magna Carta” with nothing but a date to guide him. (I’m guessing that the episode was written well before the recent Supreme Court ruling that was a blow to Bush’s attempts to repeal the Magna Carta, but resonance is resonance.)

“The Invisible Hand of Fate” also takes time to fit in what appear to be two non-sequitur, stand-alone comedy scenes: Brock and Hunter Gathers playing the cow game on the road, and the whole “nozzle” scene. This development seems new to me, but I’m sure more alert viewers will correct me.

Billy and White arrive at the Venture compound just in time to see Rusty’s “bodyguard” Myra being tased by security forces. I puzzled over this odd piece of brutalization against a woman until I realized that the scene is probably there simply to explain why Rusty is in need of a new bodyguard. In any case, Rusty spurns Billy and White and another of Billy’s childhood dreams is crushed — he finds out that his role model is “a total dick.”

Billy’s next quiz meet turns out to be a dogfight, which Billy loses. I like how he’s disqualified because White enters the ring, not because he isn’t actually a dog. His relationship with White at an impasse, Billy gets off the back of (his own) moped, coincidentally at the exact spot where he and White will one day share their trailer.

(Oh wait, I just realized, it’s not coincidentally at all — Billy leaves White at this spot, which is why White places his trailer there — all out of love for Billy.)

Billy is picked up by Brock and Hunter, who press him into service spying on Professor Fantomas, who is doomed, of course, to one day become Phantom Limb. (“Fantomas” being, of course, a reference to this guy.) Billy is nervous about becoming a spy, but finds that he is welcomed as a freak in Fantomas’s class, even as he is overwhelmed by studies.

Billy’s roommate commits suicide (or does he) and Billy goes to see Fantomas in his office. He’s let in by one of my favorite characters of all time, the Guy Scraping The Name Of The Office’s Previous Occupant Off The Door. This character shows up in two of my favorite ’90s movies, Seven and The Hudsucker Proxy, although I can find no direct reference to either of those movies in “The Invisible Hand of Fate”. In the office when Billy walks in is the episode’s only other female character, Dr. Girlfriend, who is at this point calling herself “Sheena” and apparently trying to win favors from Fantomas. Sheena, it will not surprise the reader, is a punk rocker.  (UPDATE: Apparently the name is “Sheila”, not Sheena.  Mea Culpa.)

Fantomas, we learn, was quite impressed with a paper Billy has written, which we later learn was actually written by Stephen Hawking. So Billy has, again, advanced in his cause through unintentionally cheating. He is always a pawn in someone’s game, a victim of good intentions — White’s love and Hunter’s rabid patriotism.

Hunter believes that Fantomas is a member of the elusive Guild, and as the episode develops it seems that, indeed, he is. The question I have at this point is, does Fantomas know that he has been bankrolled by the Guild, or he is he, too, a pawn? Has the Guild orchestrated this entire bizarre, convoluted plot in order to turn Fantomas into Phantom Limb and bring him into the Guild? Is the Guild the “Invisible hand” of the title? Or is the episode asking for a less ironic interpretation, is this wild, complicated plot actually a heartfelt, earnest exploration of the strange, twisted byways that sometimes shape our lives and, more importantly, our narratives?

(Brock says that he and Hunter “think” Fantomas killed Billy’s roommate because he was “getting too close,” which leaves enough room for me to guess that they are, perhaps, wrong.)

Brock and Hunter browbeat Billy for his naivete (honestly, how could he not see that his professor with the withered limbs is a threat to national security and a member of an international criminal organization? Wake up, Billy!) but Billy fights back and escapes, runs to Fantomas to make a clean breast of it.

He shows up just in time for the experiment that will change Fantomas’s life. What he does not know is that he, in his ignorance and foolishness, will inadvertently create a supervillain. This is, in fact, Billy’s only real act in the episode — to clumsily give Fantomas the power he needs to become Phantom Limb.

Billy, traumatized, is trundled off by O.S.I. to a memory-wipe program, Hunter is sent to Guam and Brock is booted from the O.S.I. to be assigned to bodyguard Rusty (as he recently got rid of Myra, his old bodyguard). The beefy Dean double makes a pointed Don Quixote reference I’m still puzzling over, then reveals himself to be a member of the Guild (or so it seems). Which seems to indicate that the Guild has, indeed, quietly orchestrated this entire improbable scenario.

Last week I noted that the iPod billboard with Jonas on it in silhouette next to the line of itinerant Mexicans reminded me of this famous photo. Almost immediately, I regretted making the comparison, certain that I was reaching, seeing things that weren’t there. Then, this shot turns up in this week’s episode, reminding me that it is, apparently, impossible to look too deeply into an episode of The Venture Bros.

In a bookend scene, Billy awakens from his unconsciousness to find White, Brock and Rusty gazing down at him with what looks like real affection. But is he among friends? These people, in one way or another, ruined his life.

(Emphasis is placed on Billy’s twitching mechanical hand, a hand that matches Fantomas’s own artificial limbs in design. Is Billy also, one day, going to develop an evil hand?)

Spielberg: Jurassic Park part 2

It sounds kind of dumb to say it, but it occurs to me upon reflection that Jurassic Park is a movie of ideas. It sounds kind of dumb because it doesn’t seem like a movie that involves chases, crashes and giant stomping lizards could be considered about “ideas.”free web site hit counter

And yet, look at our protagonist. Alan Grant is, if not passive exactly, then reactive throughout the narrative. In Act I he gets rooked into coming to the island by a manipulative John Hammond, in Act II he sighs and kvells as he gets squired about the park, in Act III he flees from dinosaurs, and in Act IV he guides the children back to the camp. He’s not even there for the penultimate set-piece where the kids are terrorized by the velociraptors in the kitchen.

That’s not a very strong through-line for a protagonist of a movie that one expects to make a billion dollars, but what are the alternatives?

John Hammond is a much more likely protagonist — it’s his park, after all — but he’s even more passive than Alan. He spends most of the movie fretting at headquarters while the others cavort about the island. Ellie is clearly “the girlfriend,” that most depressing of female leads, Ian is injured at the top of Act III and remains reactive for the rest of the movie.

We could, perhaps, say that the movie has multiple protagonists, but really all of their through-lines are weak and Alan’s is definitely presented as the “a-story.” And yet his “arc” — his gradual acceptance of children — has little or nothing to do with the “big ideas” of the movie (cloning, the limits of technology to control nature, the inevitable evil of capitalism, etc).

And yet, the movie is hugely effective, for which one must gives props to Spielberg. He took a script with a reactive protagonist with no clear through-line and turned it into a terrific thriller and one of the biggest box-office smashes of all time. The “ideas” of Jurassic Park were ones the audience were, apparently, ready to receive, and they are given center stage through the whole first half of the movie.

(This is also why Theme is so prominent in the movie. In fact, we could say that Theme is, in fact, the “star” of Jurassic Park.)

So where were we? Paleontologist Alan Grant has been lured by super-science capitalist John Hammond to Jurassic Park. Hammond has exploited Alan’s life-long fascination of dinosaurs to ensure his park’s success in the face of possible lawsuits and, while Alan has some doubts about the project, he cannot stop swooning like a little kid when faced with the prospect of a live dinosaur.

Moving forward into Act II:

24:00: Hammond shows the team a video presentation that explains the science behind the park. This is a scene of dense exposition, exposition without which we would not understand the action. Spielberg makes it tolerable (on a first viewing, anyway) by presenting it as a pitch-perfect send-up of grade-school science movies like Frank Capra’s Wonders of Life series. He also makes the scene thematically relevant by having the video’s audience break out of their mechanical restraints to get at the reality behind the image.

27:50: Alan gets to hold a baby velociraptor in his hands (although its egg is snatched away by a robot hand) and chaotician Ian Malcolm delivers a stern warning about the dangers of Hammond’s enterprise.

32:50: The velociraptors are presented but not shown, in order to keep their mystery and terror at a maximum. Muldoon, the big-game hunter who’s in charge of keeping the velociraptors in line, is here charged with delivering another long expository scene about the nature of velociraptors.

34:28: The principles dine while strangely old-fashioned slide shows play on the walls of the restaurant. In another remarkably long expository scene, they argue about the morality of Hammond’s enterprise.

38:00 The kids arrive, and Alan does his best to avoid them — and fails. They look at him as a rock star as he grows visibly uncomfortable.

We learn that not only is Dennis Nedry involved in a nefarious plot to steal dinosaur embryos, he is the only IT guy employed by Ingen. Yes, at a theme park designed to cater to tens of thousands of visitors a year, with a museum and a restaurant and a motorized tour and a sophisticated audio-visual setup and dozens of laboratories staffed by scores of Ph-D-level scientists, with a heliport and pilots and boats and a dock and drivers and office staff and cooks and caterers and waitstaff and god knows what else, there is one IT guy, without whom Jurassic Park would founder.

The tour gets underway, and Ian delivers yet another long expository speech, this one about chaos theory. Now, I read the novel Jurassic Park and I’ve seen the movie many times and I’ve read The Lost World and seen its movie many times as well, and it’s still unclear to me why Ian Malcolm needs to be on these trips. First, it’s unclear to me why Hammond’s board demands that, of the three experts brought to the island for the tour, one is a paleontologist , one is a paleobotanist and the third is a chaotician. What board member suggested that? What Ingen board member stood his ground and said “unless we get the approval of an expert in chaos theory, this park will not open!”? What does chaos theory really have to do with what happens in Jurassic Park? I don’t mean in terms of “ideas” that the author wishes to discuss, I mean in narrative terms. There is, as far as I can see, nothing that happens in the narrative that requires the application of chaos theory. There’s a T-Rex chasing your jeep, your understanding of chaos isn’t really going to change anything. Ian’s actions in Jurassic Park, as I see them, are: he complains about what Hammond has done here, he makes a pass at Ellie, he delivers a speech that has nothing to do with anything, he gets attacked by a dinosaur, and he helps Ellie negotiate the power shed. Strangely, he is the only one asked back for the sequel, which calls for his expertise even less.

We meet a sick triceratops, and Ellie gets her moment to shine, if by “shining” you mean handling a detective scene about what’s bugging the triceratops. Significant screen-time is devoted to Ellie’s expertise in botany and animal diseases, and yet the mystery of the sick triceratops is left unsolved and unmentioned again. I understand that, at the root of the narrative, there is an argument being made about capitalist-driven science pressing ahead into areas it doesn’t understand, and how a simple decision at the inception of a project leads to all sorts of unintended consequences down the road (which is what Ian is doing there), but as the narrative of Jurassic Park develops, the sick dinosaurs (which turn up later as well) and the discussion of chaos theory become window dressing that add little to the narrative, except as fuel to feed the tensions between the scientists and Hammond. But let’s face it: a movie that involves people being chased by dinosaurs doesn’t also need lessons in mathematics to help “sell” the drama of science-vs-capital or technology-vs-nature.

52:00 — A storm is coming in, and everyone leaves the island. What? Come again? There is a storm coming, severe enough to force the entire park staff to leave the island, yet Hammond is still going to let his crucial, all-important park tour continue?

54:00 — Ellie splits off from the group to go look for triceratops clues, while Ian chats with Alan about family. Ian, it seems, has many families, many ex-wives and children, and seems perfectly comfortable with that reality. Alan, on the other hand, still can’t quite stomach the notion of children at all. His life is his work — or, more properly, his obsession.

It’s worth noting that, while the movie supposes that technology fails in the face of the power of nature, it is, in fact, not “technology” that fails at Jurassic Park — it’s Dennis Nedry. For all the narratives high-minded notions of chaos theory and the complexities of ecosystems, the failure of the park comes down to a fat guy shutting down the system so that he can swipe some embryos.

(There is, pointedly, a photo of Oppenheimer stuck to Dennis’s monitor. I noticed it and understood its implication from the first time I saw the movie, but it wasn’t until this time around that I noticed the post-it attached to the photo, a note that reads “Beginning of the Baby Boom.” That is, the birth of the atomic bomb, to the unnamed post-it author, was a sort of biological Big Bang, a technological explosion that led, somehow, to a biological explosion. Which also ties in to Ian’s theories, but still does not explain his narrative purpose.)

And now let me pause here, half-way through the movie, to address the latest episode of Venture Bros, and pick this up later.

Spielberg: Jurassic Park part 1

WHAT DOES THE PROTAGONIST WANT? Like many Spielberg protagonists, Alan Grant has an obsession. In his case, dinosaurs. Nothing could possibly fulfill his dreams of a lifetime more than an island full of living dinosaurs. Over a wild 24 hours of adventure and terror, he comes to realize the price of his obsession, and the futility of it.free web site hit counter

As I have mentioned before, Jurassic Park is the most theme-heavy of movies from Spielberg, the most theme-heavy of directors. The theme here is “life finds a way,” specifically that life finds a way around the technology that tries to control and define it. Every scene in Jurassic Park, literally almost every shot, finds a way to express this theme in one way or another, sometimes subtly, sometimes with characters explicitly stating it in long complicated speeches.

Jurassic Park, like many of Spielberg’s movies, has four clearly-defined acts and goes like this:

ACT I (0:00-24:00) Act I of Jurassic Park is “let’s get everybody to the island.” The Problem arises in the first scene — a worker is attacked by a velociraptor, which leads to the unseen Investors getting panicked about the titular park, which leads to them hiring an oily lawyer to pressure island-owner and dinosaur-breeder John Hammond into making certain assurances, which leads to Hammond contacting a trio of scientists, including protagonist Alan Grant, and bribing them into coming to his island to give it their okay and calm down the investors so that the park can open and make everybody a fortune. There is a subplot introduced regarding disgruntled employee Dennis, who plans to smuggle dinosaur embryos off the island to sell to a rival company. The act climaxes when Grant sees the dinosaurs live in the flesh for the first time, and in that moment looks ready to follow antagonist Hammond to the ends of the earth.

ACT II (24:00-1:00:00) Grant, his girlfriend Ellie, chaotician Ian, the oily lawyer and two of Hammond’s grandchildren are led on a tour through the park. Nothing goes right and great emphasis is placed on the limits of technology. There are several long, expository scenes, some of them necessary to understanding the plot, some, mysteriously, not. Alan, although still clearly fascinated by the prospect of live dinosaurs, admits to having some qualms about the scientific value of bringing ancient life into the modern world. Dennis’s plot to smuggle embryos is set into motion. We learn that his plot involves shutting down the power for the entire island, a decision that leaves Alan, Ian, the lawyer and the kids stranded next to the T. Rex paddock, at night, in a rainstorm.

ACT III (1:00:00-1:28:00) Act III begins at the one-hour mark, on the dot, with one of the all-time greatest action-suspense scenes ever created, ten minutes of superbly-orchestrated brilliance, and we’re off to the races. From here on out, the concerns of Jurassic Park become largely mechanical and situational — and substantially more entertaining. After the attack of the T-Rex, we cut to another part of the island for Dennis’s death at the hands of a Dilophasaurus, then come back to Alan, who is stuck on the wrong side of civilization with the children, whom he will guide and guard for the remainder of the movie. At 1:14:00 we have another wonderful action-suspense scene involving an SUV in a tree, at 1:18:00 we have Ellie and Ian chased by a T-Rex. There is a respite as Alan finds a place to rest with the kids, and an end-of-third-act low point where Ellie and Hammond have a little heart-to-heart, complete with a death-of-my-kitten speech from Hammond.

ACT IV (1:28:00-2:00:00) The sun comes up and Alan and the kids are still alive in their resting place. Alan’s fascination with dinosaurs remains, in spite of everything. Meanwhile, Team B tries to figure out how to get reboot the island’s power supply. There’s another superb suspense scene where we crosscut between Alan trying to get the kids over an electric fence as Team B restarts the island’s generator. The velociraptors attack the park headquarters as Alan and the kids arrive safely. As Alan and Ellie see about getting off the island, the kids are attacked by velociraptors in the movie’s fourth or fifth virtuoso action-suspense scene. Alan and Ellie come back for the kids and are all attacked by the velociraptors again. The T-Rex becomes a sudden, unlikely ally in a moment of crisis and the group flees the island. Alan, we see, has had his obsession for dinosaurs dulled by his experience of the past 24 hours, and as he contemplates Hammond’s grandchildren he reflects that it’s probably just as well that his dream remains a dream.

SOME THOUGHTS:

0:00 – 3:28: The theme is stated visually in the very first scene. A bunch of workers (in their snappy Jurassic Park-brand hardhats) hold guns and peer nervously off into the distance at something scary coming through the bushes.What is it coming through the bushes? Is it a dinosaur? No, it’s just a forklift. A forklift carrying a dinosaur in a crate, but a forklift nonetheless. Dinosaurs, this scene says, are not the problem — the problem is the technology intruding into nature. Here, not only is the forklift shown knocking over trees to get through the jungle, but we see that it’s carrying that velociraptor in that box — and what do you know, the velociraptor finds a way to, if not get out of the box, at least exact some revenge on the men who put it there. Technology (men with guns, with corporate logo) in nature, face off not with nature but with another piece of technology (the forklift and box), which contains Life (the cranky velociraptor), which Finds A Way to get around the technology trying to control it.

5:30: Alan digs for velociraptor bones in the Badlands — with the help of the latest dinosaur-hunting technology. Which he doesn’t understand, and which seems to fail due to his merest touch. Alan, we see, is mistrustful of technology — he’s told that soon, due to technological advances, paleontologists won’t even have to dig for bones, to which he replies “Where’s the fun in that?” Alan sees that if technology advances far enough, life won’t have a chance — and yet he’s devoted his life to getting close to these creatures that obsess him.

9:08: The movie’s first expository scene, where Alan explains to a child why a velociraptor is scary, as though we might have a hard time believing it, given the evidence. The scene also serves to express Alan’s dislike of children — he pointedly terrorizes the kid as Ellie rolls her eyes. In the following scene he goes to absurd lengths to list the reasons he doesn’t want children, which Ellie, apparently, does.

I’ll admit I have a hard time connecting Alan’s growing affection for children to the theme of the movie. At the end of Act III, Alan pointedly gives up his dinosaur obsession in favor of protecting his unsolicited charges, but that speaks more to Alan’s Spielbergian obsession and less to the subject at hand. It’s almost as though the protagonist’s desire in Jurassic Park is more of a sub-plot, the “A-plot” being the technical explanation of how the dinosaurs came to be and why these folks are on the island.

10:30: Hammond appears, the jolly capitalist. He’s got lots of money and he’s going to make a lot more of it. Hammond is interesting to me as the kind of capitalist who thinks he’s really hit on something that isn’t evil, that somehow he’s managed to circumvent the age-old rule of capitalism, that business must be based on plunder and rape. He really thinks his park is a positive good and that he’s thought of every possible contingency. “Spared no expense” is his motto, catchphrase and sacred vow: he’s not just out to make a quick buck, he sees himself as a kind of Medici, bringing great works to a benighted world.

13:45: We meet Dennis Nedry and hear a little about his plan to abscond with the embryos. Wayne Knight’s performance is so broad and bizarre that it seems like it belongs in a different movie. I’ve seen Jurassic Park many times and I still have trouble assimilating it into the whole. I wonder if Spielberg saw some kind of problem with the role and felt that it had to be played this way in order for the movie to maintain the specific tone he was looking for, that perhaps if Dennis Nedry’s scheme was played straight the narrative might become too ponderous. Recently Spielberg has mentioned his affection for Dennis Weaver’s gonzo performance in Touch of Evil; I wonder if perhaps he was hoping to create his own Weaver-esque performance with Knight. Or maybe Knight just amused Spielberg with his delivery and Spielberg, on the set, simply pushed him to be bigger.

17:11: The “Jurassic Park” logo is on everything — helmets and jeeps and gates and signs and doors. This is a brilliant touch, because thevillain of the piece isn’t really technology but capitalism. Capitalism wishes to turn everything into a product, and the point of the narrative is that Hammond has attempted to put a logo on life itself. He’s much worse than Dr. Frankenstein: he doesn’t just want to create life, he also wants to market it as well, with all the trappings. Hammond knows that the world is fascinated by dinosaurs and he’s going to cater to that fascination, even though it’s clearly the wrong thing to do. Not coincidentally, the movie also knows that the world is fascinated by dinosaurs and plans to cater to that same fascination, and tell us it’s wrong, and reveal the disaster awaiting, and make tons of money off it anyway, partly through ticket sales and partly through, yes, slapping a “Jurassic Park” logo on everything conceivable.

20:24: Alan and Ellie see the Brachiosaurus. I love this scene. Sam Neill and Laura Dern play it perfectly. It’s not just that they are paleontologists being presented with the object of their fascination, its that Hammond has, somehow, managed to reach deep down inside their cerebral cortices and give them nothing less than their childhood dreams come true. And it, quite rightfully, staggers them. I certainly know how I feel when I see the scene — the gentle brachiosaur lumbering up the hill in the afternoon sun is exactly what I have imagined a living dinosaur would look like ever since I was a child, but far more poetic. The scene is crucial in setting up the protagonist’s dilemma, such as it is: we really want to see this, as much as the protagonist does. Good lord, who would not? When we see the brachiosaur, we, like Alan, are ready to do whatever it takes to see more. Spielberg is well aware of this, which is why he stages the scene with maximum beauty and emotional punch, then withholds the dinosaurs, for the most part, for the next 38 minutes of exposition and argument. He has our attention and he’s going to tease us until we can barely take it any more, and then he’s going to give us what we want in a way we absolutely don’t want it.

Which brings us to the end of Act I. More later.

My message to the graduating class

This has become a cliche as bald as Dr. Seuss’s Oh, The Places You’ll Go, but it’s still one of my favorites.free web site hit counter

Venture Bros: The Doctor is Sin

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This episode opens with what I think is a first for the show: a topical political joke. In the middle of the desert, Dr. Venture pulls up in his hovercar to some itinerant Mexican workers and asks if they want $50 a day to work on his compound. I have to assume that this is a comment on John McCain’s speech a while back where he mentioned that Americans would not work for $50 (an hour) picking lettuce. The significance of this joke in this episode won’t become apparent until the post-credit coda.

After offering the Mexicans jobs for which they are absurdly unqualified, Rusty zips off in his hovercar and passes an iPod billboard. I puzzled over this for a minute or so: is The Venture Bros somehow connecting American joblessness, Mexican infiltration of American jobs, high-tech employment and Steve Jobs? If so, what is the statement? Is it just that even here, in the desert where itinerants gather to look for work, there is ample evidence of the carefree, glamorous life promised by American high-tech prosperity? Is the image the Venture Bros version of this? Is America truly the Great Satan, luring immigrants with promises of sexy high-tech glamor, just as Dr. Killinger is a Satan luring Rusty into a life of supervillainy with his promises of strong identity and dynamic self-actualization?

Perhaps, but as I looked at the image again I realized that the silhouette on the billboard is that of none other than Rusty’s brother Jonas. The shot, seemingly a throwaway gag, actually propels the plot forward. Rusty is in the desert looking for cheap labor, in order to impress General Manhowers, in order to compete with his brother Jonas. Whew! That’s a lot of baggage for a second-long shot of a billboard to carry.

(Jonas’s black silhouette against the purple background also segues nicely into the silhouettes of the Venture boys’ legs against the red of the opening titles.)

As the show begins, we see the dead Manasaurus being taken off the electric fence by Brock. This is what Brock has been reduced to by the Monarch’s renunciation of his arching of Rusty: once a bodyguard, he is now a clean-up crew. The Monarch has altered his identity, now everyone he affected will need to change theirs as well.

(Not that the Monarch was ever really a threat to Rusty. I can’t remember — does Rusty even have a clear understanding of what the Monarch wants, or is the Monarch merely a distracting irritant to him?)

Rusty, feeling the pressure of forging his own identity, arranges to meet with General Manhowers to show off the compound and hopefully pick up some orders. This information is gotten across in his phone conversation with Jonas, a nice bit of expository writing that compresses the important plot information into an elegant character beat emphasizing Rusty’s rivalry with Jonas.

Note the contrast between Rusty’s company and Jonas’s. Each brother has a staff of oddball misfits, but Jonas’s team operates with smooth efficiency while Rusty’s gripe and quarrel — or so it seems, until Jonas mis-handles his hold button and we see that he, too, is plagued with personality conflicts and incompetent personnel.

(Bonus: it’s always nice to see a scene of

  talking to himself.)

Rusty puts on a Potemkin Compound display for General Manhowers. I understand why the weak-willed Dr. Orpheus would go along with the play-acting, but seeing his gloomy teenage daughter Triana happily pretending to be a receptionist (in powder-blue lipstick) seems odd at first. But it makes the eviction of her and Dr. Orpheus all the more of a slap in the face.

(Of course, we find out later that Triana performs her roles under protest, and she throws in a jab at the writing staff for good measure.)

As Rusty shows off his new identity of “efficient super-science-guy” to General Manhowers, his old identity of “loser supervillain magnet” keeps re-asserting itself. His tour is interrupted by an attack from a supervillain whose name would be, if I had to guess, Four-Armed Falcon, and his pride over his newly-refurbished walkway is undone by his neglecting to staff, or even dust, the R.O.C.C. This all ties in with what we shall see, the political message of the episode, namely that Rusty, in pretending to be a hot-shot leader, has focused all his energy on presentation and none on substance. Just as Bush spent all his energy focused on putting on a flight suit and printing up a MISSION ACCOMPLISHED banner, and none on figuring out how to prosecute his war properly. Appearance over substance is a hallmark of the Bush years in all aspects of American society I’m afraid, and Rusty is no exception.

Just as General Manhowers leaves, unimpressed, Dr. Killinger arrives. The connection of Killinger to Mary Poppins is made again, as is the connection to Satan. I myself would never have made a connection between Henry Kissinger and Mary Poppins, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have made a connection between Mary Poppins and Satan — but the connection does exist, mainly, that both Mary Poppins and Satan each arrives on the scene bidden by earnest request, in writing. Oddly, Killinger breaks this rule and shows up at the Venture compound seemingly of his own volition.

Killinger, already a wonderful character, is here given a full-on multi-dimensional treatment. He is both a soulless murdering machine of cruel vengeance and a delicate, warm, even fussy, agent of encouragement and wonder. In skull slippers.

He warps Rusty’s mind, true, but he also does provide a service, does he not? His advice may lead to evil, but it starts out as essentially positive: be your own hero, slay the image of your father, take back the dignity stolen from you by your brother, etc.

(The David and Goliath metaphor employed in Dr. Killinger’s hallucinations is, perhaps unintentionally, altogether apt. In the Valley of Elah, the pipsqueak David was able to slay the giant Goliath by virtue of what was, in the Bronze Age, new technology, the slingshot. The Philistines had swords but David, applying then-advanced physics to an old idea, was able to best the dominant weaponry of the day with a much smaller, more portable new device. How appropriate that Killinger advises Rusty to be the David to his technology-king father’s Goliath.)  UPDATE: My scholarship on this point is well-intentioned but flawed — see comments below.

Killinger’s interactions with the other characters develop thus: to Rusty he supplies positive messages of self-actualization, to Brock he takes away identity and replaces it with a reasonable monetary profit, and to Hank he dispenses advice that, unless I miss my guess, is a barely-changed page from The Secret. So we see that the language of self-actualization masks selfishness, selling-out and, eventually, a kind of personal fascism.

Rusty, of course, eventually realizes that Killinger is not turning him into his father — he’s turning him into a supervillain, no better than the costumed freak Brock had to take down off the fence at the top of the episode. His dreams of success, driven by his awe of his father and his envy of his brother, will lead him to be the thing he most despises — or at least is most irritated by. Rusty, for the first time in my memory, commits an actual moral act in this episode — he turns down success in order to keep his soul, and thus restores not only his old identity of failed loser but also the identities of all those dependent upon him.  By committing his first moral act, Rusty, ironically, genuinely changes his identity — he becomes a moral person instead of a showy capitalist.

And the political message? Killinger, agent of the Guild, avatar of Nixon, symbol of Satan, appears in the sky alongside General Manhower. They are, story-wise, the same person, which is why one appeared as the other went away. Rusty’s desire to “do well” for the General (and thus land lucrative war-profiteering contracts) is directly related to his desire to renounce his identity, out-do his father (calling W!) and beat his brother (calling W again!). Rusty offering the Mexicans the John McCain deal only underlines the point. We as a nation find ourselves in the summer of 2008 at a crossroads: shall we continue to renounce our national identity of imperfect democracy and pursue appearance over substance, glorifying in our supervillainy as our old friends are evicted and bought out, or will we tell the Killingers of the world to fuck off?

(Killinger quotes As You Like It at the close of the show, as Manhowers suggests that we can “read more about” this “in the Bible!” Is Manhowers hoping to do a deft bait-and-switch between Shakespeare and the Bible, or does he just not know the difference? I also note the exceptionally large number of other Biblical references in this episode — the serpent and the apple, Cain and Abel, David and Goliath, etc. Perhaps I’m thinking too small, and the entire episode is actually a biblical parable — or perhaps the reference is yet another dig at Republicanism, that political mode of thought that is always prepared to cite the Bible to cover up whatever evils it engenders.)

Sam on Gremlins

DAD: Well, now you’ve seen Gremlins.hitcounter
SAM: Yay! That means I never have to see it again!

So, oddly enough, the child (7) who loves Revenge of the Sith and Temple of Doom, who thrills to Jurassic Park and Zathura, strongly disliked Gremlins. He didn’t mind it being scary, and he didn’t mind it being, essentially, a dirty trick. What bothered him was, oddly, the violence.

Not the violence against humans, mind you — he disliked the violence against the gremlins. From the moment the mother takes on the gremlins in the kitchen, blending one, microwaving another, he was disgusted and horrified. Not by the movie taking a sudden left turn into the horror genre, but by the mother killing creatures who were, despite their faults, her son’s pets.

DAD: But they’re trying to kill her, dude!
SAM: It doesn’t matter! You can’t kill them even if they’re evil monsters!

When Gremlins opened in 1984, I was working in a twin cinema that showed it on both screens — one showing every hour, for 24 hours, for the entire first weekend. It was quite an experience to see how different audiences would react to the movie. For the matinee audiences, there was a point in the movie in every screening where parents and their children would go dashing for the exits — and strangely, it was always the children leading the adults, saying things like “Mommy, take me away from this movie!” The 3am audiences, on the other hand, saw it for what it was — a sly, genre-bending comedy, a lump of coal in your Christmas stocking.

The mid-80s Spielberg productions Gremlins, Goonies and Roger Rabbit were all marketed as childrens’ movies and all contain mountains of profanity and important story points relating to suicide, alcoholism, sex, gunplay, drug use and birth defects. What struck me about Gremlins today was its sourness and brutality, aspects that never seemed apparent to me until I was watching it with my 7-year-old son, who generally enjoys both scary movies and violent movies (which he prefers to refer to as “actiony” movies). Even the mega-brutal Temple of Doom has a lighter tone and goofier spirit than Gremlins.

SAM: Did Steven Spielberg work on this movie?
DAD: Yeah, this is one of his movies.
SAM: Boy, he really likes that weird, ugly violence, doesn’t he?
DAD: Gosh — does he? I guess I’ve never really thought about him that way. (Or, rather, I’ve never heard anyone complain about it before.) But you know, when this movie, Gremlins, came out, parents were really angry about it. Because they all took their really little kids to see it, thinking “Hey, it’s Steven Spielberg, he made E.T.!
SAM: Yeah, and he also made the, you know, the melting faces and the guy getting his heart pulled out of his body and the guy dissolving into a skeleton…

God knows what he’s going to think of Saving Private Ryan.

Your attention please

My apologies for the light posting recently. I’ve been working on my first novel, dealing with some rather complicated professional matters, and planning my son Sam (not to be confused with Son of Sam)’s seventh birthday party, which, up until May 22, was to be a Star Wars theme party, but which is now apparently going to be an Indiana Jones theme party, although my guess is that the guests won’t know that until they show up. hitcounter

Jurassic Park sits here on my desk waiting to be analyzed, occasionally making impatient huffing sounds and rolling its eyes at the ceiling. Patience, Jurassic Park, patience. Your time will come. Look at Schindler’s List over there, you don’t see it getting all huffy do you? No. And it’s more than an hour longer than you, and about the Holocaust! You just be patient.

Recent activity: my manager slipped me a copy of The Grid, which is a long, agency-generated list of “open writing assignments,” the primary purpose of which seems to be to make almost any potential movie sound really stupid. The movies that studios are right now paying people actual money to write? YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE.

In any case, here is a picture of a kitten.

Tuesday, June 3 was an important, historic day in the history of the United States

I refer, of course, to the release of the LEGO Indiana Jones video game.

It’s one thing when a 7-year-old boy is excited about an Indiana Jones video game, it’s something else again when he sits down to play it in his Indiana Jones hat.hitcounter

Mantises! II: The Revenge

Because you demanded it (wait, didn’t you demand it?) the Alcott family has taken it upon itself to raise another army of mantises. The first of two (two!) egg sacs hatched yesterday and we freed most of them into the garden to devour insects smaller than themselves, but kept a dozen or so to cavort in a tiny terrarium. The result — baby pictures!  Each mantis is about 2cm long.  Click to see mantid cuteness closer up.hitcounter

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