Film/Culture still in "limited release"

Due to a very busy work schedule which leaves me very little free time, I have had little time to compose or edit posts for this blog. Nevertheless, I have not forgotten of its existence, and if anyone at all is interested in it, I invite them to enjoy some posts from the "back catalogue"... short essays on film and various contemporary issues written for school/Facebook over the past few months. Stay tuned for more!

Utilitarianism and Moral Relativism

NOTE: Written for an introductory Philosophy course, this post serves to further typify cultural and religious rhetoric for this blog, as it not-so-indirectly addresses the popular worldview of moral relativism. It is a response to John Stuart Mill's famous work, "Utilitarianism."

John Stuart Mill, in his apologia for “Utilitarianism,” argues that the eponymous philosophy is not hedonistic, cold, or atheistic, but rather inherently moral. Upon careful examination of a central utilitarian belief, however, we see that quite the opposite is true. Utilitarianism is incapable of serving as the grounding for a moral society because it both relies on and promotes moral relativism.

            We see this most clearly in the example of the “drowning man.” He struggles to stay afloat, quite unsuccessfully, in some body of water. A passerby sees him and feels genuine compassion for his situation and concern for his life; the passerby jumps in and affects a rescue. Clearly, this person would be lauded by both the man rescued and by society. But suppose the same passerby, or another individual, saves him merely for the purpose of achieving acclaim. We might sneer at his or her selfishness, but the drowning man would probably still be overjoyed with his new lease on life. It is for this reason that the core premise of utilitarianism makes no distinction between the first instance of rescue and the second. According to Mill, actions are morally right if they “increase happiness,” and wrong if they “decrease happiness” (Mill 77). There is no consideration of motivations, only of ends.

            There are at least two fundamental flaws in this line of reasoning. The first, and the most glaringly obvious, is that “happiness” is an entirely subjective concept, at least from a secular perspective. Mill avoids supplying his readers with a concrete definition of what constitutes an increase or a decrease in happiness, other than stating that an increase in happiness will be accompanied by a corresponding decrease in “pain” (which is an equally nebulous term) (Mill 77). It is possible that he trusts individuals throughout society to recognize such increases or decreases as they occur, but “you’ll know it when you see it” hardly furnishes much clarification. In fact, by leaving the discernment of “happiness” to the individual, he effectively highlights the reliance of utilitarian belief on moral relativism, which is arguably its most damaging weakness. Every individual, from the selfish to the masochistically selfless, will have his or her own conception of what happiness entails, and believe that conception to be correct as it applies to their own lives. There can be no universal standard for happiness as a result; it is not quantifiable. Therefore, since utilitarianism labels happiness the universal standard for distinguishing between right and wrong, then within this doctrine there can simply be no standard for right and wrong, either.

            Granted, Mill would answer this argument with something like the following: utilitarianism strives not to uphold individual happiness, but the happiness of society as a whole (which is commonly cited as “the greater good”) (Mill 80). It is a valiant attempt to escape an acknowledgment of reliance on individual discernment, but it fails. It is here that we see utilitarianism’s second flaw; it relies on the assumption that finite man is capable of having knowledge of the greater good that is independent of his own conceptions of happiness. One might argue, of course, that individual beliefs are reconciled to form a more perfect whole in representative governments like our own. Surely a Congress must be better able to decide on what constitutes the greater good than the individual. True, citizens tend to be happier with governments that are made of up groups of people who check each other’s power. But within these groups, there are still individuals, and these individuals still know and act upon their own personal definition of the nature of happiness. Likewise, public opinion can be distilled into a series of issues, but these issues are borne of all shades of belief regarding what an increase of happiness should look like. All public policies and opinions, in the citizenry or in the government, are based to some extent on individual definitions of happiness and pain. The “greater good” cannot, therefore, be readily distinguished from the good of the single person. Even a group can never truly standardize or perfect its understanding of the greater good. In the end, true societal happiness is just as relative as individual happiness; it will mean different things at different times and to different Congressional sessions. There can be no standard for happiness on either plane, and so happiness alone continues to be inadequate as a standard for morality on any level of societal structure.

Works Cited:

Mill, John Stuart. “Selections from Utilitarianism.” The Elements of Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Print.

Terry Jones: A Clear and Present Danger?

Note: Written for an "American Government" course, this post discusses a recent issue that I held strong opinions regarding, and serves as an example of the kind of cultural and political discussion I wish to encourage here. The "Wilson and Dilulio" I reference are the authors of my primary text for the class.

Outrage was sparked across the country and around the world in September of last year as Terry Jones, the pastor of Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, prepared to burn a copy of the Qur’an on the ninth anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks (Milligan). Practically every public official and media figure in the nation denounced Jones’s plan and urged him to stand down. Their argument stemmed from the well-grounded fear that such a public act of disrespect for the Islamic holy book would put American lives in Afghanistan at risk.

            Jones appeared to relent, and for months he and his church remained silent. Then, on March 20, Jones and the Outreach Center posted evidence online that Islam and the Qur’an had been put on “trial” for “crimes against humanity” and that, upon a guilty sentence, the latter had been doused with kerosene and set aflame (Sieff).  As so many had predicted, this action provoked three days of protesting and the storming of a U.N. installation in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan. No less than twenty people affiliated with the U.N. were killed (Malcolm).

            Never mind the fact that Afghan reaction to Jones’s mad-dog “ministry” is itself a further example of the effects of intemperate rhetoric and sensationalism (local Muslim religious leaders apparently made fallacious announcements that a hundred copies of the Qur’an were burned) (Malcolm). It could easily have been prevented. By any reasonable standard, what Jones did was reckless, pointless, and stupid. Some, like Republican Senator Lindsey Graham from South Carolina, believe that such acts of symbolic speech and speech in general should be prohibited in times of war like the one we face as a country today (Tenety). 

            According to Wilson and Dilulio, however, present day Supreme Court decisions, with the gradual decline of cold war tensions, have tended to lean more towards free expression overall (104). True, Oliver Wendell Holmes’s “clear and present danger test” is still a crucial element in First Amendment cases (103). But did Terry Jones and his burning of the Qu’ran create a clear and present danger?

            American troops and U.N. officials in Afghanistan must certainly think so. The attacks in Mazar-i-sharif and other violent protests elsewhere were directly linked to the burning, and according to General David Petraeus, Jones has singlehandedly “[endangered] the war effort” and permanently increased the risks for American personnel in the Middle East (Trofimov and Abi-Habib).

            While Jones certainly presented a danger in American interests abroad, however, his actions did not at any time seem to present an imminent threat to American lives or government domestically. In our disdain for “Reverend” Jones and his church, we might wish for action to be taken against both on behalf of our troops. The Court, on the other hand, seems to rule largely that the clear and present danger clause applies only to internal affairs and consequences. Holmes and his fellow justices described the “clear and present danger” clause of the First Amendment as applying only to actions that will “bring about substantive evils that Congress has a right to prevent” (Wilson and Dilulio 103). After all, Congress might have the right to prevent treason or the lawlessness within our borders, but it cannot do anything to control the people of Afghanistan.

            So however reprehensible his abuse of First Amendment rights in this case, we cannot say that Terry Jones has truly gone beyond them. As a citizen of this nation, he, too, is protected by the same Constitution we would defame if we were to deny him equal coverage. We can only hope that his actions shame both him and his followers, and prevent future provocation by those who share their worldview.

 Works Cited:

Malcolm, Andrew. "Afghan mob, angry at Terry Jones' Koran burning, attacks U.N. staff; at least 20 dead." Top of the Ticket. LA Times, 01 Apr 2011. Web. 7 Apr 2011. http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/washington/2011/04/terry-jones-afghan-mob-angry-at-florida-koran-burning-attacks-and-excutes-members-of-un-staff.html

Milligan, Susan. "Terry Jones Koran Burning Abuses the Constitution." US News 04 Apr 2011, Web. 7 Apr 2011. http://www.usnews.com/opinion/blogs/susan-milligan/2011/04/04/terry-jones-koran-burning-abuses-the-constitution

Sieff, Kevin. "Terry Jones, pastor who ordered Koran burning has divided families, ex-church members say." Washington Post 03 Apr 2011, Web. 7 Apr 2011. http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/church-that-torched-koran-has-divided-pastors-family-and-others/2011/04/03/AFuXx6XC_story.html?hpid=z3

Tenety, Elizabeth. "Terry Jones: Koran burning vs. free speech." Under God: Religion, government and politics in the news. Washington Post, 04 Apr 2011. Web. 7 Apr 2011. http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/under-god/post/terry-jones-vs-free-speech/2011/04/04/AF7DgOdC_blog.html

Trofimov, Yaroslav, and Maria Abi-Habib. "Petraeus Says Quran Burning Endangers War Effort ." Wall Street Journal 04 Apr 2011, Web. 7 Apr 2011. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703806304576240643831942006.html.

Wilson, James Q., and John J. Dilulio. American Government: Institutions and Policies. 12th ed. 1. Boston, MA: Wadsworth, 2011. 103-104. Print. http://www.amazon.com/American-Government-Essentials-James-Wilson/dp/0495802824/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1310877553&sr=8-2

Design and Ridley Scott's "Alien"

Note: Written for my "Graphic Design II" course this past semester, this post analyzes the production design element of "Alien" in the context of brand design.

Hello all,

I break my Lenten movie fast to bring you a (somewhat lengthy) discourse on Ridley Scott’s “Alien,” which I frequently use to answer those wondering what my favorite film is. My primary reason for doing so is its incredible production design, which has had almost incalculable influence on my artistic sensibility and served as inspiration for many design projects, personal and academic, over the years.

Many have heard of this film, but few these days seem to have actually seen it.  For those uninitiated, the story is simple: a crew of astronauts on their way back to Earth divert from their course to investigate a mysterious signal coming from a distant planet. While exploring the surface, they find a crashed alien vessel that is filled to the brim with what appear to be eggs. When one of them hatches and the creature inside latches onto one of the crewmembers, they decide to bring their comatose comrade and his new “friend” back to their ship for study. As in many other horror films, this proves to be a huge mistake; before long, a big, deadly alien monster is stalking them through the corridors, and their only chance for survival is to corner and destroy it.

You can see why much is made of the fact that “Alien” was originally slated for production under a tiny budget and release as a “B-list” thriller. It certainly sounds like a cheesy 50’s monster film. But what elevated it above the status of pure schlock was Ridley Scott’s decision to pursue a grungier aesthetic than that of other science-fiction films of the time. This “used future” visual style was every bit as revolutionary as the visual effects in “Star Wars,” and as a result “Alien” has been frequently imitated over the decades (but never bettered).

  

The visual style of “Alien” bears special relevance to our recently completed project, which involved the design technique of “branding.” With the creation of his “used future,” Ridley Scott essentially developed a brand all his own. It would become a theme in several of his future films and remain a trademark of the “Alien” franchise in the three installments that succeeded his own. But it is even more interesting to note the parallels that Scott draws between different locations in “Alien.” The picture above is a still frame of one of the first shots in the film, as the human spacecraft Nostromo broods quietly, awaiting the awakening of its crew from stasis. Now check out the still frame below, taken from the sequence detailing the crew’s exploration of the alien craft:

 

Look at the highlights; look at the texture on the walls and the shape of the corridor as a whole. The design is more organic in nature than that of the human ship, but when you think about it the two are fairly analogous in terms of atmosphere and structure. Also compare the shapes in this shot of the cryosleep chamber (below)…

 

…to this shot of crewmember Kane inspecting the hatched egg just seconds before he is attacked (also below).

 

The canopies of the cryo tubes are designed to emulate flower petals, as are the textured panels on the bulkheads in the background… and, most disturbingly, as are the top edges of the grotesque, malevolent ovoid. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I get the sense that the production designers of “Alien” meant for these similarities to exist. Furthermore, I’d venture to claim that it is for this very reason (among others) that this film so utterly horrified audiences when it was released in 1979. We realize, even if only subconsciously, that the environment on board the Nostromo (even the more hospitable areas, like the cryosleep chamber) is not so very different from the environment on the alien vessel. When we later learn that a full sized monster is roaming about, then, this similarity instantly makes the once-innocuous (or at least recognizably human) interiors of the Nostromo terribly oppressive and threatening.

 

Of course, it also helps the utter destruction of our sense of security that Scott chooses to break from cliché and set the film’s most startling and infamous scene (it is frequently listed among the scariest in film history) in the crew dining room, which is one of the most brightly lit and apparently “safe” locations on board the ship. It is pictured above, as the surviving crew looks on in horror at the violent “birth” of the monster that will eventually grow to stalk them.

More importantly to the issue at hand, however, we see numerous examples of another strategy by Scott to sell his used future “brand.” He, like any good designer, knows that in order to create authenticity and consistency of vision (or even product, if you like), attention to detail is essential. For example, notice the irony implicit in the costume of Brett (second from the left). His official Nostromo cap (even complete with an official mission patch – someone designed that, too!) contrasts sharply with the flamboyant Hawaiian shirt that replaces, in his case, the more utilitarian white uniforms adorning the other three characters in the shot. Brett, like the ship, is part of the “used future”: regulation and protocol have been gradually thrown out the window as the months pass in endless spaceflight. See also the navigational logo signs on the bulkhead behind Captain Dallas (far right). Nostromo is shown throughout the film to be a cavernous ship, seemingly understaffed with only seven crewmembers to begin with. It logically follows, then, that directional cues would need to be given to crewmembers … but many lesser design teams might overlook this simple but helpful detail.

Truth is, I could easily see myself writing a year’s worth of papers on “Alien,” but I fear that I have already overstayed my welcome. Suffice it to say that this film is as good an example of a uniform artistic concept applied evenly to many different designs (or in this case locations and props) as any well-conceived soda package or what have you. Branding (in a loose definition of the term) is everywhere – even the movies.

5 Sci-Fi Films That Deserve Another Chance, Pt. 3 ("Solaris")

Unfairly panned, forgotten, or simply misunderstood, these five films in my favorite genre warrant some attention.

“Solaris”

2002, directed by Steven Soderbergh

Though mostly dismissed as pretentious and dreadfully boring upon its initial release, “Solaris” has been a source of endless fascination for me. Although I intend to share my fully developed analysis in a forthcoming essay, I’ll give a short version here. “Solaris” might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it’s probably the deepest and most important work of science fiction filmmaking in this past decade. I’ll agree with critics that it is at times unbearably slow in pacing, and because of this its 90 minute running time can often seem something more like three hours. But the performances (especially by star George Clooney) are achingly honest in their simplicity, the effects are gorgeous, and the film itself represents a complete fusion of spiritual and science fiction thematic materials, something toyed with before but never achieved to this extent. “Solaris” is an unsung cinematic landmark, and the most deeply spiritual film I have ever seen put out of Hollywood. If one can look past the overly placid surface, there is much to be discussed and admired here.

Clooney plays Chris Kelvin, a psychologist and widower whose beloved but unstable wife, Rheya, committed suicide when he berated her for aborting their unborn child against his wishes. His researcher friend Gibarian studies the mysterious planet Solaris from its orbit, and when the space station suddenly stops communicating with Earth, Chris is sent to find out what happened and bring the troubled scientists home. Upon his arrival, he finds Gibarian dead and the rest of the crew plagued by “visitors,” or replicas of past friends, mentors, and family members that are apparently created by the planet.

Kelvin is a scientist through and through, a man of logic rather than action. Solaris represents a certainty that his mind rebels against: God, or at the very least the fact that there are things in the universe that cannot be explained or proven by any process. When he wakes up one morning to find Rheya lying next to him and completely, innocently unaware of her demise, his first reaction is to blow her out of an airlock. But gradually, as he accepts the reality of her existence, Rheya becomes the screen onto which he projects his own “sins” of unbelief and guilt over her death. When these things drive her to commit suicide yet again, it is her eerie and miraculous resurrection that allows Kelvin to embrace the mystery of Solaris and the inadequacy of his mind to cope with its existence.

Sound familiar? It should. The interpretation of Rheya as Christ figure is probably by no means the intended reading of the film. But nevertheless, the plot seems to support the idea, and “Solaris” certainly endorses the idea of man’s ultimate smallness in terms of the universe.  It’s a film that attempts to conform to pantheistic ideals, but instead contradicts itself by suggesting very Christian theological concepts. This incongruity makes it a mesmerizing case study, and I believe a very good conversation starter.

 

5 Sci-Fi Films That Deserve Another Chance, Pt. 2 ("The Abyss")

Unfairly panned, forgotten, or simply misunderstood, these five films in my favorite genre warrant some attention. This is test post number 2.

“The Abyss”
1989, directed by James Cameron

When a US nuclear submarine mysteriously sinks in an abyssal trench off of the Cayman Islands, the Navy commandeers an experimental underwater drilling rig and its roughneck crew to investigate and search for survivors. Things quickly go wrong as a hurricane cuts off their contact with the surface and heavily damages their equipment. Trapped at the edge of the trench, the crew discovers that the sinking of the submarine may have had something to do with mysterious, and apparently alien, life forms living at the bottom.

Made after the success of “Aliens” but before the Oscar domination of “Titanic,” it is interesting to examine “The Abyss” as a transitory companion piece to both, though it is often lost in the vacuum created by public adoration of Cameron’s earlier and later films. This is a shame, because “The Abyss” arguably broke more ground than either “Aliens” or “Titanic.” Cameron came into “The Abyss” looking for fresh ways to make his alien characters believable, and the result was a series of pioneering CG techniques that would eventually make both the liquid metal Terminator in “T2” and the sinking of the Titanic possible. Cameron’s arduous underwater shoot for “Abyss” also required him to invent his own special cameras, a technical achievement that would aid him in filming the equally watery “Titanic.”

The story itself is certainly Cameron’s most mature to date, even despite the naïve nuclear disarmament message that powers the final scenes. Unfortunately, most viewers run under the jaded assumption that this “peacenik” message is the main statement of the film. I disagree, as did Orson Scott Card (the author of the Ender Quartet) in his indispensable novel adaptation.  Card saw that Cameron’s anti-nuke sentiment, instead of existing for its own purposes, stemmed from the relationship between the two main characters, played by Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. An estranged married couple thrown back together amidst impending disaster, they are forced to confront the fact that they are still bound by their vows and very much in love. Their love eventually comes to encapsulate everything worth saving about humanity, and adds a critical emotional element to Cameron’s argument for an end to Cold War tensions – an argument that would have otherwise fallen flat. A reading of Card’s novelization, I would argue, is essential for the fullest understanding and enjoyment of “The Abyss” as a film; his first three chapters were written before production even commenced, and given to the lead actors to study while preparing for their roles.

Cameron did, however, make some grievous editing choices in order to pander to studio executives who wanted him to cut his running time. The theatrical version of “The Abyss,” especially the ending, is incomprehensible drivel: a marvel of underwater photography, but riddled with plot holes. It wasn’t until later that Cameron reintegrated several critical scenes in his magnificent “Special Edition.” By then, many didn’t care to give “The Abyss” a second chance, though it richly deserves one. It is constantly underrated, and for all the wrong reasons.

5 Sci-Fi Films That Deserve Another Chance, Pt. 1 ("Sunshine")

Unfairly panned, forgotten, or simply misunderstood, these five films in my favorite genre warrant some attention.

“Sunshine”
2007, directed by Danny Boyle

The director of “Slumdog Millionaire” and “28 Days Later” put his own spin on the science fiction genre in between his reinvention of zombie horror and his Best Picture win. Seeing as he didn’t really come into the public eye until after “Slumdog” became the surprise Oscar champion of 2008, it’s easy to understand how “Sunshine” fell by the wayside. It was made for a small budget, and given only a very limited release. I wouldn’t have even heard about it were it not for the boredom that drove me to read the reviews in an old copy of People magazine while waiting for an appointment. Therefore, even though it received mostly good reviews, this film deserves a second chance because, well, it never really had a first one to begin with.

The plot reads like a bad 70’s disaster film: 50 years from now, the sun is prematurely burning out.  Mankind’s only hope is a team of astronauts who will fly to the center of the solar system and shoot a massive nuclear weapon into our star, reigniting it (in theory). But Boyle is wise to avoid focusing on cheesy incidental details and give more thought to the psychological states of the various crewmembers. After all, how would it affect you if you knew the survival of the species depended on your success? This fact also gives rise to interesting moral dilemmas, as the astronauts are forced to repeatedly question the permissibility of sacrificing one another for the good of the mission. I’ll also say that the visual effects alone are worth the price of admission; used sparingly and beautifully, the CGI in “Sunshine” still hold up against (and outdo, in my opinion) the humanoid Na’vi in “Avatar.”

The primary object of interest for me here, though, is the villainous Capt. Pinbacker, the leader of a failed previous mission. Portrayed as an essentially ignorant religious psycho who’s been sunburnt to a crisp, he’s out of place in the flow of the story but serves Boyle’s intention to make “Sunshine” an apologia for atheism. His fatalistic belief in the will of God certainly stands in sharp contrast to the humanistic ethos of heroes Capa (Cillian Murphy) and Mace (Chris Evans). However, while Boyle obviously intended for us to scoff at Pinbacker’s views, I think he raises the film’s most interesting question, even if he mostly lets a nasty-looking futuristic scalpel do his talking: if God decides that humanity’s time is up, at what point do we stop trying to save ourselves and accept it? No matter what you believe, that's a question that a sci-fi film rarely dares to ask.

P.S. Pinbacker, of course, is wrong from even a Christian perspective. If God had really wanted to destroy humanity in "Sunshine," he would have chosen a method that was completely beyond our capacity to halt, and he certainly wouldn't need Pinbacker to stop others from subverting his will. The good captain is, therefore, too out of his mind to really serve as an effective critique of fundamentalist religion, especially Christianity. Then again, perhaps he's not meant to be a critique of the institution, but of the followers. Faith without reason can indeed be a dangerous thing.