be.redy wrote:
7/10 -> B-
The first 30-40 minutes that heavily featured the quasi-documentary style bored me to death. Not to mention that Wikus is a pretty irritating character and stays irritating throughout the movie. But once the movie shifted to "normality" and started to feature Christopher I quite dug it and gotten into it with ease. By the end it almost redeemed itself for a boring and uninteresting beginning.
The blatant social commentary isn't a big plus in my book. I can respect the notion but the way it was presented was pretty heavy handed and felt a bit awkward. The straightforward action sci-fi stuff redeemed the whole movie for me this time.
Overall I look forward to District 10.
Though not directly referencing the comments above, I must bring attention to the thorough ineptitude with which reviewers are examining
District 9 - - it is both shocking and reassuring at the same time. Based on the film theory of Laura Mulvey, we can be certain that director Neill Blomkamp was frimly ensconced on the path of neo-turpitude that informed all of the later works of Stephanie Heinrich. It is, however, only through the longitudinal study of psychoanalytic materialism in South African intellectual circles that we can even begin to assess the damage that Sharlto Copley has wrought in his choice in the role of Wikus van de Merwe. Without rhyme or reason he bludgeons his way through the part and severs whatever tenuous link the audience has with Colonel Koobus Venter, not to mention the entire Nigerian gang. What incredible lack of foresight engulfed Copley when he was nursing this part? Why wouldn't Blomkamp have stepped in and provided the necessary background materials for his preparation? These questions are very difficult to answer now in retrospect, but with the proper discipline may be probed by future archeologists. Still, we have to live with the results and it is only through repeated viewings of
District 9 that we can approach an acceptable resolution to this problem.
The matter of the secondary localized effects provided by Weta are a different story all together. The confused nature of the thematic influences is made solid in latex. And further compounding this issue, is the inorganic source references for the carbonic chains of synthesis. Yipes! What was Peter Jackson thinking when he signed off on that?!?
Luckily, we are left with only the tertiary claims that the music of Johann Pachelbel provided an inordinate amount of leverage for the primary theme on the soundtrack. This can be easily dismissed as the ravings of the effete elites behind the musical mafia of Malawi. Those bastards have caused more than their share of trouble, and it is about on par with the ridiculousness of their claims here yet again. Let's revel in the fact that it isn't more universal!
The accumulated effect of the overlapping thematic layers in
District 9 is one of cognitive dissonance. It is through this perturbing mechanism that Blomkamp manages to sneak in his true message... a recapping of the underappreciated work of the first millenium muslim philosopher Ibn al-Haytham. His foundational work in optics is so obviously cribbed by the
District 9 visual effects team, that they might as well have have attached flashing LED lights to it! What a joke. With this level of impropriety underlying much of the film, should we even deign to examine it's legitimate underpinnings? I think that a case can still be made for leniency in this regard, but each individual viewer nust make the call. (Heaven help those already struggling with the Spetzl-Heisenberg dichotomy.)
Ultimately, though the blame lies squarely on the shoulders of screenwriter Terri Tatchell. Without the perpendicular references to Shakespeare, none of this would have mattered one whit. But no, it mattered so much that no one cared. It'd be preposterous if it wasn't so foolhardy.
If only they had hewed the line more closely to the core. all would have been copacetic. As it is said: "Only after the damage has been done can the cows return to the herd."
I realize what a sad state of affairs is embodied by these deeper principles of
District 9, but it is emphatically critical that they be dusted off and sorted out. Without that, only empathy remains, and I think we all know what that means...
Whenever a film stoops to the level of it's audience, it is a sure sign of the ethical depravity of it's production team.
District 9 is one such beast, in the theological sense. The madness that saturates the middle third of this film is just one more sign that Blomkamp took directionlessness as his compass. Ultimately, the bridge structure of the thematic crossover is a first class failure. Descending through
District 9's fallacies is like taking a twenty floor elevator ride down a ten story building. My only wish is that were subliminal instead of superficial.
Even those concerns remain minor, however, compared to the gaffes created by second unit director Paul Grinder. The teleological nonsense that passed for continuity in his segments are nothing less than horseshit. I mean literal equine feces - - you can see it still smeared on the edits in the finished film. Why wouldn't Peter Jackson have a guy like that fired? What could be his motivation for placating a peon such as that? I can only guess it has something to do with his unhealthy weight loss.
Still, we must be thankful for the remaining dignity we were allowed to walk out of the theatre with. I mean they could have gone for the full biltong! You'd think a film made in Africa would retain a modicum of southern hemisphere counter clockwise spin, but sadly it has all been exorcised from the product shoved down the throats of paying customers. If modern man had the cajones to stand up for his abysmal human rights system, he may have had some hope of walking away from this unscathed. And the answer to that unstated hypothetical question is unabashedly: NO!
In the end, we must simply vote with our derrieres and sit out thye next round of foolishness promulgated by this unsavory crew.
Hypothetically, the basic conundrum that faces the viewer of
District 9 is the age old mystery that has confronted armchair philosophers since before the invention of the armchair. It is the ultimate question in a verdant universe of random choices, it is the pen that writes that question, and it is the paper on which it's written. Sadly,
D9 fails to reward viewers with any kind of satisfactory answer, let alone a means by which to pose the question, and one has to walk away frustrated by the dithering flaccidity of Blomkamp's transparent ruse. It is only through repeated doses of over the counter pain medications taken in their recommended configurations that allows many
District 9 fans to even look themselves in the face anymore (...anyone who has visited a friend's house in which all the mirrors are covered with towels, will no what I'm talking about). This is not monkey business, this is mockery business!
Seven times have I watched the opening sequence, and seven times have I psychically vomited my mental dinner. It is an abomination of the first degree. What follows is filmic ipecac syrup. If you held down your cerebral chowder before - - you're gonna explosively expel it now. The significant factor here is the simplistic use of a cinematic double negative. How could it have gotten past the S.A.F.D.C.? Bribery, that's how! Peter Jackson has deep pockets, and he needed to dig all the way down past the stale pizza crumbs to pay off the requisite officialdom for this malediction.
In the end,
District 9 is a triumph. Despite all the egregious philosophical crimes it is guilty of, it remains the one film daring enough to put the cart before the horse. They even put the letter "t" in cart before the rest of the word, so that in the
District 9 universe cart is spelled "tcar" - - it is so far ahead of the competition that it is lapping itself, like a cat cleaning it's anus. If a great film exists, it is this one. It stands on the mountain peaks of Switzerland yodelling it's vibrant heart out. It swims to the bottom of the ocean to get fresh giant squid for it's viewers.
D9 transcends the very frame of the film it is made on, and spills out of the projector in all directions. If you want to have the complete
D9 experience, you must bribe your local projectionist to let you lie on the floor of the projector booth and let the true glory of the film permeate your very being. This is no longer a movie, it is the foundation of an entirely new hybrid of entertainment and philosophy - - it is philotainment and enterosophy. It will change the way that baby's are conceived.
D9 is the root of a whole new branch of the great apes. It is the found link.
Even then, we must dig deep to examine how this momentous event came to pass. Was it a simple work of man, or were the aliens portrayed in the film actually real and helped write the script. Perhaps we'll never know, but with the help of decades of study, perhaps we'll catch a glimpse of the rainbow at the center of this remarkable film.
District 9 is a showcase for the diamonds of South Africa - - it's as if De Beers wanted to make a corporate promotional film and hired David Lynch and Sam Raimi to collaborate. It is the very essence of nobility and truculence.
Henceforth, when I watch
District 9 I shall forever be in it's awe. I will climb a thousand stone steps on bleeding knees to let it into the cinema of my heart. I will then claw open my own chest to have one last look at it as my blood pours out onto the door jamb. Oh, glorious
District 9, you are my true love, my idol, my new best friend after you killed my dog. I will njot sleep until I have watched you a hundred times tonight.
D9 is D-lightful!
but I mention it as an indication of how thoroughly I enjoyed this film, and just how hyped-up I was when I left the cinema.
