We’ve seen a lot of cephalopod fights the last couple of weeks, so here’s something a little different. [Courtesy of Never Sea Land]
This week’s assignment from the League of Extraordinary Bloggers is stunningly beautiful in its simplicity:
Since the field’s wide open, I’m going with a pictorial trip through the man’s greatest roles. Probably not any surprises here, but my aim is to celebrate, not educate. Let me know in the comments if I missed something.
In chronological order:
1. Snake Plissken (Escape from New York, Escape from L.A.)
2. R.J. MacReady (The Thing)
3. Jack Burton (Big Trouble in Little China)
4. Wyatt Earp (Tombstone)
5. Col. Jack O’Neil (Stargate)
6. Michael Zane (3000 Miles to Graceland)
Honorable mention: The jungle boy on that one episode of Gilligan’s Island.
What’s your favorite Kurt Russell role?
After I watched Prometheus I tweeted that it’s a beautiful-looking film with some great performances, but that it works neither as a good sci-fi movie nor as an Alien tie-in. I want to backpedal on that a little bit by making some observations about the film’s themes and the questions it raises.
MASSIVE SPOILERS BELOW
The central mystery of the movie is the motivation of the Engineers for creating human life. As the film opens, anthropologists Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green) are tracking down ancient sites that point to the stars as the origin of humanity (a la Chariots of the Gods and – I guess – Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). They convince the Weyland Corporation to fund an expedition into space so that they can meet their makers.
If I were to spend any time at all picking at the many, many plot holes, weird motivations, and stupid characters in Prometheus, it would add a gazillion words to this post, so I’m not going to do that. Not when Red Letter Media (thanks, Snell!) has already done that so very well. I’m going to stick to very big-picture stuff, because that’s where the movie is worth discussing.
Once the scientists reach the world indicated by Earth’s most ancient cultures, they learn that the Engineers (as Shaw calls our alien creators) decided to kill us off and start over. Why they decided that becomes the new, burning question of the film, especially for Shaw. My burning question as I was walking out of the theater, was whether or not Prometheus ever so much as tried to answer its burning question. A lot of people think, “No.” But after thinking about it some more, I’m not so sure.
There are a few lines in the film that are keys to unlocking the mystery. The first one I want to point out is a conversation between Holloway and David (Michael Fassbender), the android created by Peter Weyland, current head of Weyland Corp. Holloway is devastated by the discovery that the Engineers are all dead, so David asks the scientist what he hoped to achieve on the mission, Holloway repeats the initial mystery of the film: to learn “why they even made us in the first place.”
David replies, “Why do you think your people made me?”
Without giving it any real thought, Holloway answers, “We made you because we could.”
David’s response to that is important. “Can you imagine how disappointing it would be for you to hear the same thing from your creator?”
I imagine that Weyland had a deeper reason for creating David than just “because he could,” but Holloway’s attitude about the question is telling. People do create “just because they can.” We doodle. We sketch. We toss our art in the garbage when we’re not completely happy with it. Holloway sees no real value in David and doesn’t even think his question about his own origins is even worth considering.
So, what if the Engineers felt the same way about us?
There’s some Internet buzz about abandoned plans for Prometheus to suggest that the crucifixion of Jesus Christ was the event that triggered the Engineer’s displeasure with humanity (because Jesus was himself an emissary of the Engineers, you see). There’s still an artifact of that idea in the movie when the scientists notice that the event that killed the Engineers happened 2000 years ago (“give or take”). It’s possible that idea was abandoned because it makes more sense for the Engineers to not have a reason to destroy humanity. We’re just an abandoned canvass that needs to be painted over to make room for something new.
As Weyland executive Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron) observes at one point, “A king has his reign, and then he dies. It’s inevitable.” She’s not talking about humanity, but the similarities between the various creators/creatures in the film are obvious. The Engineers and humanity are just like Weyland and his android. Or Weyland and his daughter. As sloppy and anticlimactic as the revelation is that Vickers is Weyland’s daughter, it’s important for us to know what that relationship really is. Weyland created Vickers and at some point, it’s his job to get out of the way so that she can have her time.
Her comment mirrors the one that David made earlier about everyone’s wanting to kill their parents. That’s a horrible thing to say and I don’t even think it’s true, but it fits the theme that Prometheus is exploring. The creation supplants the creator.
That’s why he’s so nonchalant about killing Holloway. That’s why Vickers is so angry about Weyland’s extending his life. That’s why the Engineer freaks out when he wakes up and finds humanity standing over him. Especially when humanity – like the mythological Prometheus – has stolen fire from the gods and created their own life in David. The creators, whether they’re the Engineers or Weyland, aren’t ready to give up their spot, so they’re fighting for it. Weyland’s fighting by coming on this expedition. The Engineer fights by renewing his efforts to destroy humanity (now out of survival instead of apathy).
The major themes of Prometheus do make sense and there’s evidence that the film is actually thinking about them. Shaw’s religious beliefs are an attempt to bring God into the creator/creature discussion, though the movie fails to do that in an interesting way. There’s even a hint at the Engineer’s own religious beliefs by way of a mural depicting what looks like a xenomorph in a Christ-like pose. Do the Engineers worship the xenomorphs? (I don’t think that the final scene in the movie is good evidence that the events of Prometheus are responsible for creating the xenomorphs.) Do they worship death itself? It’s arguable that the xenomorphs are symbols for death. It also makes sense that the Engineers respect death as much as life since each makes the other possible.
That raises another thought. If the death of humanity paves the way for a new creation, what is that creation? I spent most of the movie thinking it was the xenomorphs, but I don’t think so now. The xenomorphs and other monsters in Prometheus are the agents of change. They represent the death that has to occur so that the old king can step down and the new king can take his place. We don’t know what the Engineers planned as the new king, but has David spoiled their plans and stepped into that role?
There’s a lot to think about and I’m interested in seeing the movie again. It still has a lot of problems that I can’t overlook, but I’m curious to see if a second viewing supports my theories about the movie’s themes. And if it does, will that lessen the impact of its flaws? I still don’t think Prometheus is a great science fiction film, but there’s enough there that I’m comfortable calling it a good one. And it does tie in well with the rest of the Alien series, not only for the symbolism of the xenomorphs as the death of humanity, but also for offering the androids as a potential replacement (which supports Ripley’s deep distrust of them).
I debated using this cover for an Everyone Hates Cephalopods post. My first reaction was that it’s a racist caricature and that I shouldn’t. Not that I never feature racist imagery on this blog, but when I do it’s always in the context of trying to learn from it. The cephalopods posts are just for fun, so I don’t want to just throw out an offensive image in that context without commenting on it.
The more I look at it though, the more I wonder if this is racist. The human head on the octopus is relatively realistic and doesn’t have the exaggerations that usually appear in World War II depictions of Japanese people. Also, the Rising Sun symbol on the octopus’ back implies that it represents an entire political entity; not a stereotyped individual. In other words, it’s depicting Japan as a dangerous, frightening enemy with a long reach, but one that Airboy (and, by association, the Allies) is prevailing against.
I understand that my own race can get in the way of my interpreting these things though, so that’s why I throw the question out to you. Is this a racist image, an accurate depiction of WWII events, or both?
[Image from Golden Age Comic Book Stories]
One more. I’d hoped to close out the week with something more substantial, but it’s just been one of those weeks. This one’s by Ryan Sook, via Calvin’s Canadian Cave of Cool.
Incidentally, I started watching Hellboy with David this week. In between classic Disney movies (we’re prepping for a trip to Walt Disney World in the fall), I’ve been sneaking in movies about Nazis gathering occult artifacts. He loved Captain America and Raiders of the Lost Ark; hopefully he’ll dig Hellboy too. He seems to like it so far and is really curious about Abe.
By HJ Ward. [Pulp Covers]
I’m feeling a little overwhelmed this week, so we’ll do two cephalopod posts to take some of the pressure off. This one was submitted by Adventureblog reader Jorge. You can learn more about Chef Zombi and the Cooking with Monsters series at their official website.