Starship Troopers Film Review
Bloody Hell! This is the last frigging’ day in June… already?!? January was only yesterday, wasn’t it? I distinctly remember it raining and the power went out in the house for four hours somewhere during that cool month. We actually got out the candles (something my wife collects in droves). I think I read a portion of a book by candlelight then, in point of fact. Who knew those candles could be so handy. Now, a heat wave is pending for the Fourth of July weekend — along with the monsoonal flow we get this time of year. If I think about it too much, I might surmise I’m getting older by minute. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants.
So once again, it’s time for the blogger otherwise known as the Scientist Gone Wordy and I to add another of our duo posts in the series we started in 2010. For this one, we took on a novel/film pairing that for many packs a strong reaction, no matter the media one partakes. As usual, the wordy one will look at the text of a famed novel later adapted to film, which I will review. In this case, she’ll be looking at the 1959 source sci-fi novel from the “dean of science fiction writers”, Robert Heinlein, that served the 1997 film adaptation of the same name, Starship Troopers. Rachel’s book review can be found here:
Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein
A brief synopsis of the film: In the future, the planet Earth has ended its long-suffering inter-nation/state squabbles and human beings live under one common federacy. Everything just works. That is not to say hominid life has given up entirely on warfare. Far from it. In this day, the human race is competing to rid themselves of their interstellar rivals, the Arachnids of Klendathu. Into this reality, Johnny Rico and his graduating high school compadres feel the cultural and gravitational pull to join the armed forces of the Terran Federation. In plain fact, they seek glory like any youth would, along with the desire to attain citizenship. Oh, did I forget to mention that to vote and have full opportunities in this society one must be an armed services veteran? The world operates in this age as a military meritocracy. What follows will cover Rico’s indoctrination, maturation, and achievements as a member in the Mobile Infantry.
[spoiler warning: some key elements of the film could be revealed in this review] Read more 
Morality Bites: Of Horror and Empathy
The following is my contribution to my two online blogging colleagues (Ronan’s Belfast based film review site Filmplicity and Julian’s Dirty With Class site) and their intriguing blogathon which asks this philosophical question:
“Do filmmakers have a moral responsibility?”
I guess I can go either way on this query. On the grounds of argument sake, I’m repurposing a piece I wrote back in late-summer 2008 in an attempt to force me to come down on one side.
In late-August 2008, the wonderful and eclectic folk at the Criterion Collection re-released Pasolini’s Salo (120 Days of Sodom). If that title doesn’t ring a bell, it was the last, highly controversial work of that Italian artist, intellectual, filmmaker and writer. Based on a work of torture/degradation by the Marquis de Sade, it is said that it was Pasolini’s masterwork examining Fascism (and Capitalism) in general, and Italy during World War II in particular. I’ve heard that many college film courses screen and examine this work — and that it’s been described as nauseating, gory, sick, and nothing less than pornographic. I’ve always wanted to see the film that some viewers describe this way only because many others consider it a masterpiece. The question is, why haven’t I?
My wife, who knows my love of film (and books), and the many DVDs that we house, would just laugh at this. Why? She knows that I’ve watched a great many movies, that to her, are disturbing. I’m sure that she bases this on a good bit in the collection (books, too) that are in the horror category. Yes, I admit, that for many years since my teens I’ve read, listened, or watched those works that go bump in the night (along with other genres). I remember (fondly) when my relatives warned me to not to go and see The Exorcist when it first hit the theaters. Of course, for my brother (the more strong and silent type of my mother’s two sons) they didn’t worry or say anything to him about it. The end result? He went to see it, and slept with the lights on in his room for the next three months, afterwards. Me? All I wanted to do was read the William Peter Blatty book that it was based upon.
But, interestingly, not all horror works attract my attention. The trend of gore, perhaps started in the low-budget, exploitive works of the sixties & seventies, in the horror category is a clue, here. Am I frightened or repulsed by it? If it’s something inherent or logical in a good story, the answer is no. Alien, with its (in)famous chest burster scene, is one of my all-time favorites. Same goes for John Carpenter’s The Thing, where its extraordinary make-up and grisly effects added to the story’s paranoia and dread (to a film that was far ahead of its time). I could name many others that exploited gore to effective end. So, on that portion of the scale, that aspect should not stop me in taking in Pasolini’s midnight movie classic.
I think, secretly mind you, it’s related to that imperceptible line that some directors, writers, or artists push (or cross) to either make some revealing point (which is defensible), or to cross it (and then turnaround to scratch it completely off) just because they can do it to the audience (which is much less defensible). The horror sub-genre some later nicknamed torture porn is just an example of this. I think Clive Barker really made an early (80s) mark in this, way before critics coined the term (for the later examples of Eli Roth, Takashi Miike, Rob Zombie, etc.), with his Hellraiser film (based upon the his book, The Hellbound Heart). He pushed (successfully I might add) that line. Though, it seems some of the recent films seem overly abusive just for sadism’s (the term derived from the Marquis’ surname, mind you) sake. I guess I have reached a point in life where I’ve learned to appreciate watching film (in all of its variety) and not solely seeking to cringe at the screen or taking it in through my stretched fingers (while I hold my hand over my face).
My friends continue to broaden the film experience and challenge the things I chose to watch to see which are beyond my evolving comfort levels [my friend and author John Kenneth Muir does this regularly, see his cult review of Halloween 2 as a case in point]. Still, the lack of empathy is what I fear, I guess. That and the images that get etched into a person’s mind — for days, weeks, or always — after the viewer takes it in. And, I don’t just hold filmmakers up to examination, here — this is a warning to those even thinking of picking up novelist Edward Lee’s work (The Bighead is one I’ll stay far away from). Perhaps, I’m getting soft in my old age. Or, more empathetic since I became a parent in the mid-90s. Anyway, one of these days I’ll take in that Pasolini title… or those unwatched DVDs on the shelf or those difficult films still on my Netflix streaming list like Inside, City of the Living Dead Irrevisible [check out Dennis Cozzalio's brilliant discourse back in January 2009 on his decision to avoid this one], and Imprint Antichrist that some of my enlightened cohorts and online friends have prodded me to watch. I wouldn’t hold my breath on when that might be… but those crossed-out titles must mean I can be convinced otherwise.
Bottom-line: Yes, I do believe filmmakers have a moral responsibility. But, here’s the thing. Their morality, given their talent and creativity, will be inherently different from you or I. If they push at boundaries via their expression in film, it comes with the territory. Whether we (as film viewers) criticize the work, or chose not to view it, simply lies on the other side of that same equation.
Reprise: The End of Month Meme
Since we have almost reached the midpoint of 2011, I thought I’d reprise something almost forgotten. I’ve updated a years old post from the former blog for this juncture.
Some time ago in 2009, author Declan Burke posted this intriguing meme:
“For simplicity’s sake I’ve kept it to one book per author, and the idea is that the last book on your list is the book you’d most like to die reading, if you had to die reading.
To wit: A long, long time in the future, in a galaxy far away, the doctor says, “Sorry, but you’ve only got a month to live.” What ten books would you re-read in your last month?”
Corey Wilde (a compadre who is no longer online, but who is far from forgotten) and my good friend Jen picked up on it. All of them, including their commenters, have some wonderful and thoughtful things to say, along with the books for that time. Me? I only wish I could be so eloquent. I think I’m in the same league as another good friend (and fellow Craisie to us all), Naomi:
“I have no idea what I would want to read then. My reading mood changes so fast.”
Though to her credit, she then mentions some interesting choices:
“But Shel Silverstein sounds like a good idea, and maybe some Oscar Wilde. Has anyone ever read the poetry of Samuel Hoffenstein? It’s kind of like Ogden Nash’s work but meaner. I haven’t read it in a long time but I remember it made me laugh which is what I’d want to do if I knew I was about to bite the dust.”
I believe I would mix some old and new for everything, but the last two books on this list. For the old, I’d have to pick something from my preferred series — and since it’s one per author, it’ll likely be either L.A. Requiem or The Forgotten Man. The former because it’s been my favorite, the latter because it just keeps rising IMO with each re-read. Next, The Odyssey — because Odysseus has long been the admired character from my childhood… and he must get home. I’d probably throw in something of Dickens or Hemingway, too. Maybe, something from non-fiction history, for that matter.
For the new, I’d pick something from the waiting stack since I’ve never read them. And because it’s a reminder to me that time moves in only one direction: forward. However, the last two books on the list would be reserved to the choices of others. Each of my children would get to pick one and I would have them read it to me. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Where the Wild Things Are, Goodnight Moon, or Love You Forever — stories that I read them when they were small and I was putting them down to sleep. You see, I’m an old sentimental… and I believe in symmetry.
Like this:
TMT: Before Unicorn Dreams
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time series that was begun here. This one covers a sci-fi film, one that’ll celebrate its three decade anniversary next year, praised almost universally now (like my previous entry). However, it split many film critics and the director’s own fans from the moment of its theatrical release.
“Sushi. That’s what my ex-wife called me – cold fish.” ~ Rick Deckard’s orphaned quote from the theatrical cut of the film
Theatre
Movie
Time
June 25, 1982: Director Ridley Scott blew away so many with his exceptional sci-fi horror motion picture, Alien, back in 1979 (me included by way of my own experience with the film). So, there was no way my friends at work and I were going to missed his next feature. As well, its movie trailer had all of us film followers at the job more than intrigued. A half dozen of us planned to leave right after work that same Friday of Blade Runner‘s release. We picked the Hollywood Theatre because it was one of the few showing the picture in 70mm for all its wide screen beauty and high-tech sound, along with the fact that it was fairly close to work and not too distant from where we all lived at the time.
A few of us had seen some of the movie reviews offered by critics that day in local newspapers. Of the ones I read, all were bad. Sheila Benson, then working at the L.A. Times, called it “Blade Crawler“. I’ll never forget that review title. We arrived for the evening screening — somewhere between 5 and 6 PM. For a big movie release, the movie hall was surprisingly sparsely attended. I don’t think it was a third full for that showing. Afterwards, out of the six of us, four disliked the film — two of them put it the despised category. Another girl and I liked (not loved) its film noirish quality, but we both felt the trailer and the film’s promotion (along with our memories of Alien) set up an expectation this theatrical cut just couldn’t meet.
The many re-cut versions of Blade Runner would go on to resuscitate the film, but that took years. Ridley’s initial release of this film divided this faction of movie-goers… big time. As a group, we never went to another film together thereafter.
The entire series can be found here.
Reprise: The Power of the Dog – Winslow’s Opus
At one time, I read my share of historical novels. I’m thinking it’s a phase for many readers, but don’t quote me on that. James Clavell’s Shogun and Tai-pan, a Michener or two, and The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe, to name a few, are some that have come my way. I still dabble in them, from time to time — I have Michael Shaara’s The Killer Angels somewhere on the audiobook stack, patiently waiting. What I didn’t realize was author Don Winslow was going to sneak one through ahead of it without me being aware. Ever since 2009′s L.A. Times Festival of Books and the Robert Crais moderated panel with Don Winslow, Joseph Wambaugh, and T. Jefferson Parker, I began my gallivant through the San Diego-based author’s work. First with The Winter of Frankie Machine, then on to The Dawn Patrol. Fun, enthralling standalone reads that showcased the man’s talent in storytelling. The way he writes his characters, and their manner of speaking, both novels have that distinct characteristic of a writer very comfortable with the type of people and situations unique to the Southern California lifestyle (including his passion of surfing), crime, and the genre fiction of both.
However, many fans of his (and a couple of friends of mine) kept pointing to The Power of the Dog as THE Winslow to read. It just took me awhile to get hold of the audiobook. And now that I’ve read it (yes, I count listening to the unabridged audio of a book as a form of that), I can see why they say that. I’d say it is definitely possible that this novel is his magnum opus. It took six years for him to write and research this novel. The paperback alone weighs in at 560 pages, over 20 hours in audio form (and it’s a compliment to the Blackstone Audio studio managers to have kept it down to that run-time). The book represents a span of time almost 30 years in length. The crime thriller’s subject? The War on Drugs and the behind-the-scenes look at that particular trade. And I wouldn’t have classified this as a historical novel if the author hadn’t done such a remarkable job at weaving real history into this multi-character (and multi-country) saga. Winslow himself has said over 90 percent of what he depicts in the novel really happened. If you’ve spent any time reading either newspapers, true crime non-fiction, history, or experiencing some of the day-to-day living in any of the U.S. states that make up the near 2,000 mile border with Mexico, you’ll recognize many of the events fictionalized in TPotD.
“See no evil, hear no evil, and for God’s sake speak no evil.”
Don Winslow’s master’s degree in military history came through clearly within the text of this novel. The extent to which he examines the drug trade and the policies begun under Nixon is nothing if not impressive. Some notorious and very ugly history (political, foreign, and criminal) is hit upon for the reader. Over three decades worth. But, it’s not all about government decisions and “the law of unintended consequences.” The author skillfully uses his fictional characters with almost chess-like skill by having them scattered throughout the U.S. and Mexico and involved early at key junctions in the development of the narcotics-trafficking trade (on both sides of the border and the law). And through them, they shine a light on aspects and repercussions most of the public seldom grasps. The novel is dense, but it certainly does not drag. On the contrary, it’s an ambitious thriller that sucks the reader right in. Be warned, though. Winslow does not spare anyone from some of the true ugliness in this war. For example, if you’re familiar with what happened with the real DEA agent Enrique “Kiki” Camarena, you will know what I mean. While the author’s tale will change some circumstances to meet the story’s needs, some of the particulars in this epoch can be very graphic and intense.
That is not to say, I don’t just recommend this novel. I very much do (especially the audio form of it). The scope and depth of the novel is sweeping (if not relentless), but still absorbing. At this point, though, I really have to praise the audiobook narrator, Ray Porter (he also performed The Dawn Patrol). If this is Winslow’s opus, it’s a tour de force performance by its audiobook reader. He has to cover and distinguish not only the men and women in the fact-based but fictive chronicle, but different American dialects, as well as a boat-load of non-U.S. characters. Porter seems to do this with ease. Yes, he’s not a native Spanish speaker. But, his pronunciation is decent, and that is all that’s needed is to establish for the listener the impression of an accent for a character that doesn’t distract from the story. This he accomplished. I admit, too, I always appreciate a narrator who nails the Spanish curse words in their presentation. Regardless, even if the book wasn’t as great as it is, I’d probably recommend the audiobook just because of Porter’s work in the production.
The novel is filled with one of a kind characters, history, twists, and tragedy. And when you match up a source as superior as this monumental novel by author Don Winslow with an audiobook narrator as skillful as Porter, then it can also be unforgettable. A sample of the work by Blackstone Audio is available on their The Power of the Dog web page.
