Overall Quality 4.5 / 5.0
Gay Inclusive? Very – an engaging and moving story of the gay rights movement and one of its heroes
Gay Positive? Very – although a tragic tale, it is fiercely empowering

This is the movie I wish Brokeback Mountain had been.

Don’t get me wrong – Brokeback Mountain was a masterpiece of film-making, and it was robbed of its rightful Academy Award. But I have a love-hate relationship with such movies – beautiful, moving, and important stories that are horribly tragic and unhappy. I’m glad that a gay love story finally hit the mainstream with Brokeback Mountain, but it did nothing to dispel myths like gay-love-is-doomed and bad-things-will-happen-to-you-if-you’re-gay.

Milk also brings a tragic story to the big screen: the assassination of gay rights pioneer Harvey Milk. Yet Milk is empowering in a way Brokeback Mountain was not. Instead of vaguely feeling bad about being gay, I felt inspired, charged up and ready to fight for my rights. Milk also brings to the big screen the struggle not just for equal rights but also for freedom from the physical and emotional violence that gay people have long endured.

Just this week, former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee claimed on The View that gay rights are not civil rights because gay people have not been subjected to a history of violence like black people. Such a willfully ignorant statement is nothing short of appalling; and yet, it is representative of a surprisingly large swath of the population. Many do not acknowledge or do not care about the persecution of gays in Nazi Germany; the institutionalized violence against gay people by police in previous decades and by religious organizations (like the Mormons using electro-shock therapy to “cure” homosexuality); and individual hate crimes that have claimed the lives of people like Matthew Shepherd.

Thank God for Milk, and what a timely film it is. The movie dramatizes Milk’s move to San Francisco and his subsequent rise to the position of City Supervisor (after several failed attempts). Once in the position, a significant portion of the movie details his fight against Proposition 6, which would have enabled the state of California to fire any teacher known to be gay along with any teacher who supported them.

Fast forward 30 years, and Californians once again vote on a proposition of concern to gay rights – Proposition 8, which successfully banned gay marriage (after the California Supreme Court legalized it).

My only criticism of the film falls on the editing, and I’m not sure what the Gus van Sant could have done differently. He’s just covering so much territory in the space of a couple of hours that much of the story gets told in fast-forward. Nevertheless, the movie was engrossing from start to finish, and the phenomenal acting from all quarters – both Sean Penn and Josh Brolin deserve extra mention – imbues the story with life.

Please see this movie. Please take your friends and family to see it. Particularly in the aftermath of Proposition 8’s passage, a lot of people seem to dismiss the gay community’s reaction as sore losers throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get their way. They do not – perhaps because they are not willing to – recognize how a group of people have been systematically oppressed throughout even the history of a country that espouses the values of equality and the separation of church and state.

Milk is a sad tale, but one encoupled with hope. I walked out of the theater both devastated and determined. One thing can be said of Harvey Milk: his hope lives on in those of us who are willing to embrace it.

“If a bullet should go through my head, let that bullet go through every closet door”

- Harvey Milk

Overall Quality 5.0 / 5.0 (excellent)
Gay Content 1.0 / 5.0 (nothing explicit in the movie, but possibly one gay crewmember)
Gay Positivity 1.5 / 5.0

Following an abysmal Star Trek movie (Generations) and succeeded by two more not-so-great ones (Insurrection and Nemesis), First Contact stands out as one of the highlights of the Star Trek film franchise, and the singular best effort by the Next Generation crew.

Inevitably, considering their success as arch-villains, the Borg make their big screen debut. A Borg cube is heading toward the Earth with the intent of assimilating humanity into the Borg collective consciousness and subjecting our species to an eternity of chafing under cybernetic implants. A Starfleet armada, under the command of Captain Picard (Patrick Stewart), manages to destroy the cube.

Unfortunately, a Borg sphere escapes from within the cube and travels back in time to prevent first contact (when humanity meets an alien race for the first time, following humanity’s first successful warp flight). The Enterprise follows, only to find itself boarded by the Borg.

The situation forces Captain Picard to confront his own hatred and fear of the Borg from the time when the Borg assimilated him (”The Best of Both Worlds, Parts I and II” on the TV series).

Who knew Star Trek could find inspiration in Moby Dick? Picard and guest star Lily (Alfre Woodard) have amazing chemistry, and together provide an emotional core to the story. Lily is the no-nonsense assistant to Zefram Cochrane (James Cromwell), the architect of humanity’s first warp flight, but she ends up with Picard aboard the Enterprise. She also enjoys some of the movie’s best one-liners. My favorite: “Borg? Sounds Swedish.”

In truth, it’s a dark story. There’s a reason the Borg are so successful as villains, and they kill or assimilate (which amounts to the same thing) a lot of people. But frequent moments of humor, plus the more hopeful subplot of humanity’s first warp flight, offset the grim events aboard the Enterprise.

A great script keeps the pace moving along and never gets mired in too much technobabble or exposition. In fact, the story and script are so accessible and engaging, this film would probably make a good “point of entry” into the Star Trek universe for newbies.

Although I take issue with the direction of the Star Trek franchise under the leadership of Brannon Braga, Rick Berman, and Ron Moore, they hit the mark with this one. Kudos!

Well, with one exception.

While still in production, a rumor arose that a crewman named Lieutenant Hawk (Neal McDonough) would be gay in the film. Apparently an early draft of the screenplay did portray Lt. Hawk as gay, but the decision was changed for later drafts.[1]. In fact, the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, based on information from Producer Rick Berman, released an Alert clarifying the issue: “According to Producer Rick Berman, there are actually no gay characters in a new film, or, for that matter, on any of the Star Trek shows scheduled to begin new seasons this fall”[2].

As an aside, it’s interesting to note that Rick Berman, who “inherited” the Star Trek franchise in part after Gene Roddenberry’s passing, felt compelled to specify that the film contained no gay characters. Any reference to Lt. Hawk’s sexuality was definitely omitted from the feature; the minor character had no scenes or dialogue to indicate his sexual orientation one way or the other. By default, most audiences would read the character as heterosexual. Those who read him as gay would probably fall into the category of “wishful thinking.” But if that’s what they want, why would Rick Berman feel the need to deprive them?

Especially considering that Lt. Hawk is gay in the Star Trek novel Section 31: Rogue, written by openly gay author Andy Mangels and gay-friendly co-author Michael Martin. Star Trek fiction is not considered canon (i.e., official). Nevertheless, all book projects must be vetted by Paramount. The Simon & Schuster website explains,

“All material is subject to the approval of Paramount Pictures, which owns all copyright to Star Trek in its various incarnations and is very concerned about maintaining the integrity of the characters and the Star Trek universe. To that end, we make a serious effort to see that the books line up with the episodes and films, though we recognize that absolute consistency is a practical impossibility. We do, however, expect every aspiring Star Trek author to approach the material with a thorough understanding of the Star Trek mythos, its characters, and its history. The best reference, of course, are the Star Trek episodes and films”[3].

As a result, in the absence of contradictory information in the canon source material, the book offers semi-official confirmation of Lt. Hawk’s gayness.

Please read my review of Section 31: Rogue for my information about that book’s gay content.

Returning to my comments on the film, even in the absence of any clear gay content, I decided under the circumstances to score the movie for its Gay Positivity. I take the fact that an ambiguous character’s sexuality was consciously and explicitly whitewashed as a smear against the gay community. I do not know why Mr. Berman felt compelled to categorically state that Lt. Hawk is heterosexual, especially since he’s portrayed as gay elsewhere in the Star Trek universe, but I find myself reminded of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s 2007 comment, “In Iran, we don’t have homosexuals”[4].

*** Minor spoiler warning *** To further explain the Gay Positivity Score, I spoil one aspect of the movie. If you don’t want to know, please stop reading. For more posts on all things gay in the Star Trek universe, check out my Gay Star Trek Main Page.

I also note that, alas, things don’t turn out so well for poor Lt. Hawk (which actually makes Section 31: Rogue a rather bittersweet read). Unfortunately, from a Gay Positivity perspective, this film can’t win. Either Lt. Hawk is gay, and the portrayal contributes to the stereotype that things end badly for gay people. Or he’s not gay, and the Star Trek franchise is communicating that heterosexuality is superior to (rather than just different from) the alternative, and gay is not good enough for Starfleet.

Either way, the Gay Positivity score reflects the poor handling of the (possible) gay content.

————————

[1] “Trivia for Star Trek: First Contact,” imdb.com,http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117731/trivia (retrieved 9 June 2008).

[2] “Gay Trek Rumor Light Years Ahead of Reality,” GLAAD Alert Archive, GLAAD.org, 23 August 1996, http://www.glaad.org/publications/archive_year.php?year=1996 (retrieved 5 May 2008).

[3] “Star Trek Novel Submission Guidelines,” SimonSays.com, the website of Simon & Schuster, Inc., December 2004, http://www.simonsays.com/content/feature.cfm?feature_id=439&tab=24 (retrieved 5 May 2008).

[4] The Associated Press, “Iran sites omit leader’s homosexuality remark,” MSNBC.com, 26 September 2007, http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20999705/ (retrieved 5 May 2008).

I love the Muppets, so I am pre-disposed to enjoy their movies. That said, I recognize that there’s a wide range of quality in their films. “Muppets From Space” (1999), for example, while cute, was also dumb and relatively forgettable. Yet I think the filmmakers did a superb job with this movie. The script is a surprisingly clever and adept adaptation of the classic novel. They skillfully juxtapose the human actors and the muppet characters, as well as family-friendly humor with the gravitas (not a word you expected to hear in reference to a muppet movie, eh?) of the Dickens’ original story.

Michael Caine did an excellent job as Scrooge. Wisely, he played straight man to the muppets. He acted as though he were in a serious adaptation rather than a cartoonish version aimed at children, with the result that the movie manages to convey the depth of the story while making it appealing to the intended audience.

I think the novel “A Christmas Carol” lends itself well to children’s versions because it relies so heavily on the sense of magic that embodies the season for kids. But most children’s versions, while they may be cute, fail to convey the deep philosophical and moral questions the novel raises. And so they lose a fundamental aspect of the book.

On the other hand, many of the “grown-up” adaptations seem colorless to me, lacking in the sense of fantasy, magic, and wonder that really embodies the season. “The Muppet Christmas Carol” is weighted toward kids but still manages to strike an enjoyable balance of the two sides to the story. Highly recommended.

For those who are interested in such, there is zero gay content to the movie. None was expected; it is an adaptation intended for kids of a Christian-oriented book from the late 19th century, after all. Maybe some day a show like Sesame Street will pioneer portraying the “Heather Has Two Mommies” kind of diversity, but this movie easily steers clear of such territory.

(Note – this review covers the theatrical widescreen showing.)

Just your average boy-meets-girl, girl-sends-boy-on-impossible-quest, boy-meets-fallen-star-who’s-a-girl, boy-falls-in-love-with-star, what’s-a-boy-to-do kind of fairy tale.

Specifically, a star named Yvaine (Claire Danes) falls into Stormhold, a magical realm completely contained within England. Our hero Tristan (Charlie Cox) promises to retrieve the fallen star for Victoria (Sienna Miller) in order to win her hand in marriage. But others also seek the star for more sinister purposes. The fratricidal sons of a recently deceased king want the enchanted gemstone that knocked poor Yvaine out of the sky, because the heir who retrieves it becomes the next king. Additionally, a fantastically sinister witch (Lamia, played by Michelle Pfeiffer) desires the star with the hope of cutting out Yvaine’s heart and eating it, and thereby gaining immortality and renewed youth.

The diverse plot threads interweave – and coalesce at the finale – organically, poetically, and cleverly. The screenplay, direction, and cinematography demonstrate a gestalt effect wherein the result is greater than the sum of the parts. Altogether, “there is a narrative flow that makes you want to be swept along” (1). Kudos to Matthew Vaughn (director and screenwriter), Jane Goldman (screenwriter), Ben Davis (cinematography), and Gavin Bocquet (production design)! The magnificent and sweeping imagery of the movie, and the dramatic musical score by Nan Eshkeri, serve to accentuate the mythicality of the tale, and lend an epic feel to the fairy tale.

The actors contribute to the gestalt effect and help the story shine. Michelle Pfeiffer is radiant in her role as evil witch Lamia. She provides depth and humanity to an otherwise cartoonish, classic fairy tale villain, and her own enjoyment of playing the character comes through. She owns every scene in which she appears. And my goodness, she has aged gracefully and gorgeously!

Claire Danes has certainly grown up (into Gwyneth Paltrow) since her days on the TV series “My So-Called Life.” Her attempt at an English accent threw me at first, but she brings a soft-edged sarcasm to Yvaine that I enjoy. The unusual character makes for a challenging role; and although there are some miscues, on the whole Danes navigates the role ably.

In fact, she and the adorable Charlie Cox enjoy an easy on-screen chemistry that makes their love story believable and adds texture to the film. Cox plays Tristan as a sweet-natured, endearing, fumbling lad who grows into a good-natured, heroic, and dashing protagonist.

Thematically, the metaphor-rich, mythic movie has a lot going for it. Most obviously, “Stardust” is a love story that also asks what true love means. Common fairy tale form demands that the hero go on an epic quest in order to win the heart of his true love. But “Stardust” posits that true love demands nothing in return: no quests, no prizes, no proof.

Furthermore, “Stardust” emphasizes the importance of looking past the surface. Nothing is quite what it seems; and in the realm of Stormhold, that truism is taken to extremes! No character turns out to be what they seem. The story allows various characters to reach inside and find their true selves; it also forces exposure of the characters trying most desperately to be what they’re not. “Each character undergoes a transformation that reveals his or her hidden, truer self, and potential for both good and for evil” (2).

That being said, the movie misses some wonderful opportunities to probe more deeply by tending toward the lowest-common-denominator presentation of many of its characters (more on this shortly), and failing to stray too far from fairy tale convention. “Stardust” is a quirky tale in many ways, innovative in a few, but revolutionary in none. Perhaps we will someday have a fairy tale that is unmistakably contemporary in tone and texture, if not content, but “Stardust” is not that tale.

Still, “Stardust” is a fantastic, lovely story. “While many big stars grace the cast, the film’s real star is the sense of wonder and boundless possibility that [this] magical world creates: [that] even a country boy can become a dashing hero and find true love with a fallen star” (3). The movie is sweet and charming, with feel-good positive messages, and awe-inspiring presentation. “Stardust” will appeal most to those who enjoy love stories and/or fantasy tales. Otherwise, its charms probably won’t have much sway over the viewer.

The film may well have a difficult time finding an audience. In fact, the movie should have done better box office thus far. But “Stardust” has received relatively little publicity, and the studio seems uncertain how to market it. And even though it’s based on a work by well-known and respected author Neil Gaiman, neither he nor the book have the name recognition of many other book-based fantasy films. It’s unjust that “Eragon” (2006) did better box office in its first few weeks than this beautiful story.

“Stardust” is probably more comparable to “The Princess Bride” (1987), or perhaps “Willow” (1988). Many reviews have noted the comparisons. Both “The Princess Bride” and “Willow” are unconventional fairy tales which didn’t find a core audience until release on video and DVD, after which they achieved cult followings. Indeed, the similarity is particularly striking between “Stardust” and “The Princess Bride,” which share a narrative style, light-hearted approach, and true-love story.

But an important difference separates the two: “The Princess Bride” benefits from a relentless sense of humor that helps broaden its attraction; it’s as much comedy as fantasy. Along those lines, “The Princess Bride” eschews the conventions of fantasy and fairy tales in favor of skewering them with satire. While “Stardust” doesn’t take itself seriously (it’s just a fun movie, and knows it), the fantasy emphasis, relatively conventional fairy tale form, and lack of a comedy-all-the-way vibe narrows the demographic appeal.

I have tried to do my part, though. I saw it first on a Friday, and then went again the following Sunday. I’ve talked this movie up to anyone who will listen. And I’ll be first in line to buy the DVD. Let me state it plainly: unless you hate fantasy or love stories, watch this movie!

That is not to say the film is perfect. Minor inconsistencies pop up repeatedly, likely stemming from the adaptation and condensation of the book. Then there are two things about this movie I simply don’t like. Well, more precisely, one thing I don’t like and another about which I have mixed emotions.

I don’t like the sexism of the film. It’s very conventional regarding sex roles. All the women in the film fall into one of two distinct categories: damsel in distress requiring rescue, or evil hag. These folks would probably have a heart attack if they ever met Xena the Warrior Princess.

True, Yvaine has a dramatic moment at the film’s climax, “and it would seem for a moment that women’s agency has been recovered and the gender story of the movie has been somewhat redeemed. But then Tristan asks her why she didn’t use her special powers earlier in the story. Her answer, ‘I can’t shine without you’” (4). The only women who exercise personal agency, power, and/or independence, are evil.

The sexism creeps into other areas as well. For example, Captain Shakespeare (Robert De Niro) teaches Tristan how to swordfight and be a pirate, while teaching Yvaine how to dance and play the piano. Not to mention that when he dresses the two, he directs Yvaine to the silky gowns, because those are of course the most sensible clothes for cross-country adventuring.

Apparently the sexism doesn’t bother too many women, though. As mentioned, I’ve seen the movie twice. I had two female companions my age at the first viewing, and they walked out of the theater chatting wistfully about meeting prince charming someday. My mother saw the movie with me the second time, and I explicitly asked her if the sexism bothered her, and she said, no, it’s just like any old-style fairy tale.

For myself, I agree with Debbie from the blog Body Impolitic: “Lots of fairy tales are like that: 21st century ones don’t have to be, and shouldn’t be” (5).

I understand the book (which I have not read) is much more nuanced regarding characters and relationships. It would seem the movie sacrifices shades of gray for black-and-white, and takes a reductionist approach to all its characters by fitting them into familiar, conventional roles.

Which brings me to the other item, about which I have mixed emotions: the gay content. It’s never explicitly spelled out that one character is gay, so I’ll put it in the “gay vague” category, but it’s pretty obvious what the filmmakers intended. The portrayal is more disappointing than insulting, and decidedly mixed: kudos for inclusivity and friendly treatment; scorn for negative stereotypes.

(WARNING – Moderate Spoiler as I discuss the gay content and positivity in greater detail)

Robert De Niro plays Captain Shakespeare, a pirate with a fearsome reputation who aids Tristan and Yvaine. In fact, his role is absolutely crucial in the movie and impacts multiple subplots. But he has a secret softer side.

Again, it’s never established clearly that he’s gay. He may merely be a mincing transvestite. But in Hollywood, that’s usually code for gay. The stunt casting of De Niro for this role, and his completely over the top performance, does prompt some laughter, but sometimes it was the kind of chuckling that’s half because it’s funny, and half because I-can’t-believe-he-just-did-that. As Orson Scott Card says, the laughs he earns are “hearty but cheap, like a character in a lowbrow sketch-comedy show. I’m not saying it’s not funny; I’m just saying it doesn’t fit in this
movie” (6).

The aspect of the character that bothers me the most is his ultimate lack of agency, which defies the logic of the story. Captain Shakespeare teaches Tristan how to fence. At the beginning of the movie, Tristan tests his fencing skills, and turns out to suck hardcore at it. After Shakespeare’s done with him, he’s a master with a blade. And yet, when Shakespeare himself is later threatened by Prince Septimus (Mark Strong), he’s completely at the mercy of his aggressor. What?!

Oh, right, I forgot. Because gay men are weak, of course, and couldn’t possibly overpower a straight man. In fact, Tristan’s training ends with his requisite victory over Captain Shakespeare, followed later by Prince Septimus completely overpowering Shakespeare, who then must be rescued like the aforementioned damsel in distress.

I do see some off-setting factors that make the gay positivity mixed rather than purely negative.

1. The inclusivity. Frankly, “Stardust” has broken new ground by including even a “gay vague” character. It’s a wide-release, fantasy-genre, fairy tale-style, family-friendly movie with gay content in it. It speaks poorly of the gay-friendliness of the fantasy genre at large that such inclusion should be remarkable. But there it is, and for this particular film, I have to say kudos. I really do appreciate the gay element, even if it is minor and clichéd. I feel frustrated being so grateful for crumbs, but considering other fantasy movies give the gay community nothing, I have to take what I can get. And the inclusion has a gay-friendly vibe to it. Largely because…
2. …the character is a good guy, and the script and story treat him sensitively (relatively speaking). His crew ultimately accepts and embraces him, even though they always knew he was “woopsie.” And Captain Shakespeare aids the protagonists tremendously, imparting wisdom, important skills, and saving their lives. It could be argued the character serves as reminder that even effeminate guys can be commanding and possess warriorly skills; Tristan starts the movie as a very poor fencer, and it’s Captain Shakespeare who teaches him the impressive and successful swordplay he later employs.
3. The film even implies a happy ending for Captain Shakespeare, as he flirts with a handsome lad during the movie’s denouement. Or, as AfterElton.com phrases it: “Hot fop action” (7)!
4. The subplot is thematically rich. If they’re going to be clichéd about it, they might as well mine the stereotypes for as much meaning as they can. And happily, they do. The role provides a nice point-counterpoint to the whole gender role issue, to reputation versus being true to oneself, and to the outside mask versus the internal truth.

Of additional gay interest:  Rupert Everett has a minor role,  and Ian McKellen narrates.

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(1) Ebert, Roger. “Stardust.” Chicago Sun-Times.
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070809/R EVIEWS/70710009/1023, 10 August 2007 (5 September 2007). Please note, I am quoting a positive line from Ebert, but I don’t want to misrepresent his review: he gave the movie a decidedly lukewarm reception.

(2) Tubbs, Gregg. “Movie Review: Stardust.” UMC.org.
http://www.umc.org/site/c.lwL4KnN1LtH/b.3090985/k.72C0/Movie_Review_Stardust.htm (5 September 2007) More than a review, Tubbs’ piece aims to stimulate discourse on the deeper meaning of the movie.

(3) Ibid.

(4) Debbie. “Neil Gaiman’s Stardust: Evil Crones, Decorative Maidens, and One Shackled Mother.” Body Impolitic. 12 August 2007. http://laurietobyedison.com/discuss/?p=417 (5 September 2007)

(5) Ibid.

(6) Card, Orson Scott. “Stardust: the book and the movie.” Uncle Orson Reviews Everything. 12 August 2007. http://www.hatrack.com/osc/reviews/everything/2007-08-12.shtml (5 September 2007).

(7) Juergens, Brian. “Stardust? More Like Fairydust!” AfterElton.com Best. Gay. Week. Ever. 16 August 2007. http://www.afterelton.com/bgwe/08-17-07?page=0%2C3 (5 September 2007).

“Pan’s Labyrinth” is an excellent, skillfully crafted piece of filmmaking with only a few minor flaws. Not only emotionally moving and intellectually evocative, the film also simply entertains. Few films succeed on all three levels, but this one proves to be a diamond in the rough.

Admittedly, I had anticipated a grimmer version of “What Dreams May Come” (1998), a movie wherein the fantasy realm was the major thrust of the film and the real-world elements just a subplot. Here the reverse is true, and even the fantasy realms were toned down from what I expected. The imagery and style were beautiful and striking but not as breathtaking or sweeping as I had imagined or hoped.

Summary

Set in Francisco Franco’s Spain shortly after the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, protagonist Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) is accompanying her pregnant mother (Ariadna Gil) to their new home, a rural military outpost run by her new step-father, the brutal Capitán Vidal (Sergi López). The Capitán has twin obsessions: having a son (he is more concerned with his unborn child’s well-being than the mother’s) and destroying the rebels hiding in the woods. He does not at first realize the resistance to his violent tyranny residing within his own household. Ofelia, meanwhile, finds herself escaping into the fantasy realm of Pan’s Labyrinth. Pan (Doug Jones) tells Ofelia she is the long-lost princess of a supernatural realm, but before she can return, she must prove her worthiness by completing three tasks.

Quality

In many respects, “Pan’s Labyrinth” is a masterpiece of filmmaking. The direction, cinematography, and acting shine. “Pan’s Labyrinth” is one of the most carefully constructed films I’ve seen in a long time, and the attention to detail manages to bring unity to some very disparate storylines.

Baquero, López, and Maribel Verdú playing housekeeper Mercedes are simply mesmerizing. The character of the López borders on cartoonish, and an injury he suffers toward the end of the film doesn’t help, recalling the Joker from “Batman” (1989). But López brings an intensity and ferocity to the role that imbues the character with all the dimensions of a man trapped by his own ideology and warped by his self-righteousness.

Baquero, at times a bit bland, nevertheless brings the requisite sense of innocence, wonder, and guilelessness to her character. But it is Verdú who truly shines in the movie. She becomes the film’s moral and emotional center with her moving, layered performance as a rebel torn between many duties and loyalties.

As mentioned, the rich, detailed visuals in the fantasy realm give the movie a textured, supernatural feel. In addition, for the use of a foreign language in the film contributes to the otherworldly atmosphere.

Minor Criticisms

Having said all that, I expected more from the visuals. This is just personal peccadilloes, of course, but I think the fantasy scenes would have benefited from being more visually discernible from the rest of the movie. The whole film is uniformly dark and gray. With the exception of the final scene, so were the fantasy scenes.

In fact, the fantasy thread felt underutilized. By far the bulk of the movie focuses on the “real” world of the Capitán hunting for rebels and awaiting the birth of his son. The fantasy scenes, although powerful and striking enough to feel substantial out of proportion to their actual screen time, still comprised little more than a subplot. One of the scenes introduced an extremely creepy and metaphorically rich character called the Pale Man (Doug Jones again). But his role was limited, whereas this figure could have made a powerful counterpoint to the Capitán.

The “real” world story also sometimes dragged with director Guillermo del Toro’s careful, methodical approach to the story.

In addition, I found a few logical inconsistencies in the movie. I wouldn’t expect a fairy tale-style story to follow the logic of the “real” world, but I do expect it to follow its own internal logic. It sometimes failed at this. For example, one scene used an hourglass to introduce some dramatic tension, but the ultimate resolution of the scene rendered the hourglass meaningless. Unfortunately, this turns the prop into a contrived plot device rather than a meaningful element of the scene.

The film’s weaknesses are few and minor, but sufficient to keep me from scoring it a full 5.0.

Analysis

** WARNING – MAJOR SPOILERS FOLLOW. The rest of this writing contains more analysis than review, so please stop here until you’ve seen the film, and then return. Trust me – don’t spoil your first viewing of this movie. This section SPOILS THE ENDING of the movie. **

Most fairy tales, at their core, are quite dark and gruesome. They are also, by nature, exaggerated. Like walking through a funhouse of mirrors, we are reflected back at ourselves in distorted or fantastical forms. Further, translating a fairy tale for an adult will almost always render it at least a little disturbing. Consider Harry Potter, whose adoptive family is clearly abusive. I always have a hard time reading those sections of the Harry Potter books. But it is the grimness that give otherwise silly stories much of their depth, and the exaggerated elements that allow us to hold them at arm’s length and say that they’re not real.

Unusually, in “Pan’s Labyrinth” the darkness is founded more in the real world than the fantasy. By far, the worst monster of the film is the Capitán, whose cruelty shocks and horrifies beyond any of the supernatural elements of the story. Illustrations in the Pale Man’s domain depict him skewering small children, and although he bites the heads of cute little fairies (well, okay, the fairies all looked mildly sinister to me), he seems rather bloodless for a supernatural villain. It does suggest that the Pale Man is Ofelia’s fantasy translation of the Captain.

There’s a saying that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was to make us believe he doesn’t exist. I don’t agree: I think the greatest trick is to make us believe we’re not him.

We are the worst monsters we’ve ever met. For all the fairy tales, ghost stories, and myths we tell ourselves, the evil of the world isn’t “out there.” We may project it out there, trying to disown it or understand it more clearly, but ultimately we’re the ones who give birth to it, who make it real in the world through our choices and actions. And by placing it “out there,” we divest ourselves of responsibility for it, which only allows us to perpetuate it, both collectively and individually.

Dogmatic ideology provides fertile ground for evil to take root. Fascist regimes will render some group into the Cause of All Suffering. All we have to do is eliminate them (Jews, rebels, whosoever disagrees with the particular ideology), and the rest of us will exist in paradise. The Catholic Church does not escape Del Toro’s recrimination. In fact, Franco’s autocratic rule over Spain is sometimes called National Catholicism in that the Catholic Church’s moral system was rigidly and violently enforced during Franco’s regime, leading to an era of censorship and repression. In fact, the Catholic Church explicitly supported Franco’s rule. In the movie, the village priest dines with the Captain, a subtle symbol of the Church’s affirmation of the Capitán’s fascism and tyranny. Del Toro even says, “The Pale Man represents the Church for me… [He] represents fascism and the Church eating the children when they have a perversely abundant banquet in front of them. There is almost a hunger to eat innocence” (1).

Del Toro offers another strike against blind ideology and religion. In one scene, Pan admonishes Ofelia, “You have to stay in this world forever because you didn’t obey.” But at the end, Ofelia succeeds specifically because she disobeyed. She did not allow someone else to think for her, nor did she seek to elevate herself at the cost of violence to another. Another scene in the “real” world undergirds this theme. The Capitán, discovering the duplicity of the Doctor (Álex Angulo), says, “You could have obeyed me!” The Doctor replies, “But Captain, obey for obeying’s sake? That’s something only people like you do.” Choice defines what we are as human, and as Del Toro says, “Blind obedience castrates, negates, hides, and destroys what makes us human” (2). He also states, “I thought it would be great to counterpoint an institutional lack of choice, which is fascism, with the chance to choose, which the girl takes in this movie” (3).

At the same time, another scene muddies this particular theme a bit: Ofelia’s disobedience in the scene with the Pale Man, by eating the grapes, did lead to a real, negative consequence. But perhaps it is fascist of me to demand perfection from her. Flaws and mistakes makes us real, yielding vulnerability and raw, unvarnished humanity. (Truth be told, though, I thought Ofelia stopping to eat the grapes was contrived and heavy-handed, simultaneously predictable and hard to believe.)

The vulnerability and weakness of the flesh becomes another thematic thread. In fact, pain and suffering are recurring motifs throughout the movie: Ofelia’s mother’s terminal pregnancy, scenes of slaughter and battle, torture, the Capitán’s own terrible wound, the amputation of a gangrenous leg, etc. Recall how Pan threatens Ofelia with old age and death if she fails in her tasks. The infirmity of the body is the curse of the real world, and the ability to suffer the aspect of the human condition Ofelia would most like to shed.

Some traditions in Catholicism suggest that physical suffering brings us closer to God: hence practices like horse-hair shirts and self-flagellation. In this film, suffering is more of an impetus to escape the world.

Which brings us to an unusual thematic twist in the movie: going into the light. Usually this means ascending into Heaven, but the fairy tale at the very beginning of the film reverses this. The Other Side here is subterranean, dark and enclosed. “Pan’s Labyrinth” portrays the real world as the world of light. And yet, then the real world is shown as violent and gruesome. So where is the light we seek? The film never portrays a higher realm. By implication, the film postulates that we are the source of our own light. Since the film clearly supposes that we are the source of evil in the world, it makes sense that the converse would be true as well.

Ofelia demonstrates this more obviously than anyone. In fact, Ofelia writes her own story metaphorically, and almost literally, by using the blank book Pan gives her. And this presents one of the more interesting questions raised by the movie: is the fantasy realm of Pan’s Labyrinth real, or is it just in Ofelia’s head?

I don’t see it as an either/or. We live in a world of duality, and we often treat it like a zero-sum game where if it’s not black, it must be white. But I am fascinated by the idea that there can be multiple worlds superimposed on each other. This is one of the most interesting elements of, say, a world like “Silent Hill” (2006). The city of Silent Hill has several “versions” or “dimensions” which exist simultaneously: the ordinary, “real” Silent Hill, the ghostly and supernatural “gray” Silent Hill, and the nightmarish and evil “dark” Silent Hill.

Is it possible that Ofelia and her step-father live in two overlapping but fundamentally different worlds? He doesn’t see the Faun at the end of the film because, while Ofelia exists in both worlds, he exists in only one? Or is his preconceived understanding of the world so narrow but so deeply ideological that he simply can’t see the Faun? Confirmation bias is a psychological principle stating that people selectively search for, and interpret, information in the environment in order to confirm their pre-existing ideas. Concordantly, disconfirmation bias states that people are especially critical of information that contradicts their preconceptions and at the same are uncritically accepting of information that supports their preconceived ideas. Literally not seeing an entire magical creature would certainly be an exaggeration of these experimentally tested concepts, but as I’ve already stated, fairy tales are the province of exaggeration.

Perhaps it is Ofelia’s “innocence” as a child that allows her to see Pan. The adult mind, so fixed in its ideas, can neither perceive nor process that kind of information. Recall that Ofelia’s mother told her that magic is not real, especially for grown-ups. Similarly, Mercedes tells Ofelia that she used to believe in fairies, when she was a girl, but no longer. As Wayne Dyer would argue, we’ll see it when we believe it. Lacking belief, we blind ourselves to the magic that surrounds us. Or, unbelieving, we are unable to manufacture magic in our lives. Says Del Toro, “’Pan’s Labyrinth’ is a movie about a girl who gives birth to herself into the world she believes in” (4).

Consider the famous quote commonly attributed to Racter (an artificial intelligence computer program, short for Raconteur): “The human doesn’t see things as they are, but as he is.”

The movie’s finale doesn’t really provide the catharsis the viewer may be looking for. It didn’t in my case, at any rate. We want it to be clearly established whether the fairy tale is real or not. (Also, I really wanted the Pale Man to bite off the Capitán’s head.)

Instead, the two sides of the story resolve themselves separately. Ofelia descends into her fantasy realm forever, or at least finally. And the Capitán earns his reward: not only death but anonymity from his own son. And yet, after causing so much suffering and death, his own demise seems anticlimactic.

Ofelia’s final scene has distinctly religious overtones, with a pieta-style mother-and-baby sitting in a throne next to a gentleman who resembles a traditional Judeo-Christian God-figure. In a way, this presentation jars the viewer, diverting from the film’s otherwise agnostic vibe. But perhaps it simply brings “Pan’s Labyrinth” full circle by emphasizing that the Other World is mysterious and ultimately unknowable to those of us who have not yet shed the mortal coil.

In the words of Guillermo Del Toro: “The movie is like a Rorschach test where, if you view it and you don’t believe, you’ll view the movie as, ‘Oh, it was all in her head.’ If you view it as a believer, you’ll see clearly where I stand, which is it is real.” (5)

(1) Michael Guillén, “Pan’s Labyrinth: Interview with Guillermo Del Toro,” Twitchfilm.net, 16 December 2006, http://www.twitchfilm.net/archives/008507.html (21 January 2007).
(2) Ibid.
(3) Mark Kermode, “Review: Pan’s Labyrinth,” The Observer, 5 November 2006, http://observer.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,1939500,00.html (23 January 2007).
(4) Ibid.
(5) Michael Guillén, “Pan’s Labyrinth: Interview with Guillermo Del Toro,” Twitchfilm.net, 16 December 2006, http://www.twitchfilm.net/archives/008507.html (21 January 2007).

Diana’s death rocked both Britain and the royal family. The latter managed to alienate a significant portion of the British public by their seemingly blasé response to the tragedy. “The Queen” portrays the dance between the royal family and Downing Street in an effort to navigate the unprecedented and perilous events.

It helps to have some interest in royalty and the royal family, but even without that, “The Queen” represents an amazing effort of film-making. The acting is simply stellar all around. Helen Mirren in particular captivates with her portrayal of Queen Elizabeth II, and Michael Sheen as Tony Blair, Alex Jennings as Prince Charles, and James Cromwell as Prince Philip are wonderful. I can’t say enough good things about the actors. Story-wise, the plot is well-paced for a thoughtful docudrama, but viewers expecting fast-paced royal family fireworks may be disappointed.

Supposedly, Peter Morgan’s thoughtful script is based on extensive interviews with staffers and anonymous informants from both the royal household and Downing Street. Some scenes are obviously fictional, but a surprisingly large portion of the film strikes the viewer as eminently believable as reality. Although the script is mildly critical of the Windsors, and Prince Philip is portrayed as an elitist, prejudicial old fool, Mirren conveys a troubled queen who undergoes deep soul-searching to understand the events that have taken her by surprise. She is suddenly forced to question her role in the world: her aide Robin (Roger Allam), trying to explain her seemingly callous behavior to Prime Minister Blair, notes that she was born and bred to believe God had brought her to the role of monarch. The heart of the movie lies in the queen’s struggle to understand the events following Diana’s death and her consideration of her role in a world that often prefers celebrity to dignity.

Watch this movie.

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” is my favorite of the Harry Potter movies (so far – as of this writing, we’re up to the fifth out of seven). Several elements come together in “Prisoner of Azkaban” that had not yet matured in the previous two films: the principal actors’ performances, the atmosphere, and a sophisticated story. But the real reason I enjoy this movie so much: it’s just plain fun, like an amusement park dark ride which takes the viewer through one colorful, exciting, magical, multilayered, multisensory scene after another. This is the first and so far only Harry Potter movie that stands on its own as a fantasy adventure film, without reference to the books or the other movies.

Sirius Black (a delightfully sinister Gary Oldman) has escaped from the terrible wizard-prison, Azkaban. And he’s reportedly looking for Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), whom he blames for his imprisonment. So Harry tries to play it safe at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he finds that more difficult than usual, given the presence of the sinister Dementors, looking like Death incarnate.
The Dementors make a brilliant entrance near the beginning of this film in one of the most suspenseful, chilling entrances a villainous character has enjoyed in film. Certainly the Dementors shine as premiere evil creatures in Rowlings’ story. Frankly, they’re scarier than Harry’s nemesis Voldemort, who mercifully plays little role in this film. The Dementors, for all that they exist as special effects, also give Radcliffe a wonderful foil to act against.

Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint have all matured into their roles, bringing an authenticity to the screen that was absent in the previous two films. I was particularly pleased to see Hermione (Watson) enjoys a pleasantly meaty role in this movie. On the whole, Harry’s sidekicks Hermione and Ron (Grint) are underutilized in the films: They enjoy fully fleshed-out subplots in the books, which are then trimmed out of the movie versions.

Scriptwriter Steve Kloves does a fantastic job with this adaptation, staying faithful to the book and maintaining not only the major plot events but also the atmosphere and mood of the text. (Oddly, he was considerably less successful in adapting the next book, “Goblet of Fire,” onto the big screen; still, I have sympathy for him – of all the books, “Goblet of Fire” has probably been the hardest to condense into a movie). Meanwhile, new director Alfonso Cuarón takes the strong script and runs with it.

The film offers a darker mood to the film franchise, but also brighter visuals – and the two complement each other quite nicely. Actually, it’s a lesson I wish the later films would have learned. It’s true that the visuals contribute to atmosphere and mood; but the filmmakers are telling fairly rich stories here; they don’t need Harry to wear gray through most of the movie (as in “Order of the Phoenix”) to accentuate the dark themes. In fact, the gray just brings the future movies down, taking them past grim to the edge of depressing. But not so in “The Prisoner of Azkaban,” and that may well be what makes the film work so well for me: it’s got the moodiness, the dark edge that suggests more sophisticated themes, and it’s got visuals to delight and substitute for the magic and innocent whimsy that gets left behind with childhood. Add in gorgeous natural vistas of the woods and mountains surrounding Hogwarts, and we have a beautiful, sweeping adventure story.

If you’re a Harry Potter fan, you’ve likely already seen this film. If you haven’t read the books or seen the films, you might start with this well-made offering to see how it appeals to you. It’s the one film strong enough to stand on its own.

“Prisoner of Azkaban” is also the first Harry Potter movie to contain any sexual innuendo or metaphor. Each story Rowlings has penned grows successively darker, grimmer, and more violent; but the sexuality of her characters remains solidly early adolescent with nascent, uncertain fumbling. It’s understandable; she’s writing primarily for a young demographic. But it’s not realistic; 13-year-olds like Harry, Ron, and Hermione would just be finding their hormonal urges kicking into high gear and by the last book, they’d be shagging for their lives (they don’t, though – sorry if that spoils it for you!). Therefore, it was an amusing wink-wink scene when the film opens with Harry playing with his wand under the bedcovers.

Indeed, how can one dismiss the series’ most prevalent phallic symbol: the wand, the means by which a wizard makes his magic. And of course, Harry’s most famous and powerful accomplishment with his wand, revealed for the first time in this film, is the protective Patronus Charm. Specifically, Harry points his wand, and a huge white stream erupts from its tip, taking the form of a stag. Uh-huh. Well, at least we know Harry is growing up virile. At least by metaphor. At any rate, he’s certainly the right age for that to happen when he plays with his wand.

( WARNING – moderate spoiler follows if you haven’t already read the book or seen the film. I further explain the gay content, such as it is, but necessarily reveal some facts about the characters/plot that are used as plot twists by the story. I do not spoil the ending of the film).

Regarding gay content, “Prisoner of Azkaban” contains nothing explicit. One might argue the film contains, metaphorically, a hint of homophobia at the very end, when Harry finds Professor Lupin (a werewolf) packing his bags. Professor Lupin explains that it’s been revealed that he’s a werewolf and that he’s resigning rather have parents demand Dumbledore fire him or withdraw their students from school. He says that “people like me” would not be considered acceptable to teach children. So, yes, there’s a bit of metaphor there; and I admit Professor Lupin has a bit of a fey vibe in the film (he is resolutely not gay, however, as future books make clear).

But I am reluctant to take this metaphor too far: if we take a werewolf as a metaphor for a gay person, well, in the movie a werewolf (at least when he’s in werewolf form) is an evil creature that abandons human rationality for base animal instinct and immediately tries to prey on children, literally. Many parents do not want a gay person teaching their children because they believe, thanks to inaccurate prejudices, that gay people prey on children. Professor Lupin is a kindly, fatherly figure; in fact, he’s the most competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has yet enjoyed during Harry’s time there. But when he changes, yes, he becomes a literal predator. If that’s the gay content, I’d just as soon overlook it.

For a more in-depth analysis of gay themes (such as they are) in the so-called Potterverse, check out my essay “The Gay of Harry Potter: Subtext and Omission.”

Okay, so the setup isn’t the most original: gay gal trapped in the closet in the face of a conservative cultural environment (in this case Chinese). But the script gives enough heart and humor to the characters and story to make it a charming, engaging, and even moving experience. I’m also a sucker for happy endings, however contrived. And I appreciate the clever complementary storylines.

We begin with our protagonist Wil (Michelle Krusiec), a closeted lesbian who endures her mother’s attempts to match her up with eligible male suitors. Then Wil falls in love and must navigate the difficult balance of satisfying her girlfriend Vivian (Lynn Chen) as well as her mother’s expectations. At the same time, her strict and conservative grandfather (Jin Wang) demands that her mother (known simply as Ma, played by the luminous Joan Chen) marry as well, thanks to an unexpected personal development. In fact, until she bags herself a man, she’s no longer welcome in his home, and Ma moves in with Wil.

With a light-hearted approach, director Alice Wu addresses the thematic richness of this story. On the one hand, she avoids the heavy-handed approach that would have doomed the movie as a torpid morality play. On the other, “Saving Face” ends up a little shallow, stirring up the thematic waters but failing to dive head-first into them. The direction benefits from adept acting across the board (especially Joan Chen), which gives the movie heart and emotional richness. Cute scenes and clever one-liners (”One billion Chinese; two degrees of separation”) make for a charming presentation.

Both mother and daughter are living in respective closets about their relationships, and both struggle to be true to themselves as well as satisfy their parents’ expectations. For most of the movie, they’re both paralyzed by their inability to completely defy convention but unwillingness to do something untrue to their feelings. As Cynthia Fuchs, the Film and TV Editor of PopMatters.com, writes,

“What’s at stake here is the very concept of face, not only as reputation and legacy … but also as the means by which everyone of every culture gets through the days, performing in order to please others, to get ahead, to avoid trouble, to survive.” In fact, it is this universal experience that makes a movie about the intersection of lesbian and Chinese cultures so accessible” (1)

I have little patience anymore with stories portraying closeted or semi-closeted gay characters who, with much hand-wringing and gnashing of teeth, struggle mightily with their sexual identity and coming out process, not because they’re unrealistic but because they’re over-done. But in this case, Vivian is already self-accepting and out to her family. And Wil represents a more common and contemporary semi-closeted state. She seems to have made peace with her lesbianism but chooses not to make waves with her family; she doesn’t actively conceal it, but neither does she address it. It’s easy to exist in a closet gray zone when you’re unattached, because the world can just gloss over your homosexuality by categorizing you as single. When she finds herself in love, she must reconsider her priorities. Or, as Fuchs says, she must take a hard look at the ways she conforms her behavior to please others and avoid trouble. Fortunately, “Saving Face” enjoys a satisfactory, albeit a bit hackneyed, ending.

If you liked “Saving Face,” you might try:

• “The Wedding Banquet” (1993). The gentle, lovely story of a gay Asian male balancing his romantic relationship with his parents’ wishes.
• “The Joy Luck Club” (1993). Cinematically superior but far more histrionic; both films address the clash of Chinese, American, and Chinese-American cultures, as well as the generation gap within deeply family-centric Chinese culture. The original book by Amy Tan also makes for an exceptional read. No real gay content, though.

——————————–

(1) Cynthia Fuchs, “Saving Face,” PopMatters.com, 28 May 2005, http://www.popmatters.com/film/reviews/s/saving-face-2005.shtml (15 May 2007).

A brilliant albeit flawed gem.

Based on the novel by P.D. James and set in 2027, no child has been born since 2009. Although the film never explains the cause, it vaguely implies a flu epidemic around that time rendered women everywhere infertile. Under the crushing weight of an empty and hopeless future, a pre-apocalyptic world of violence and chaos takes root. The film begins with a newscast reporting the murder of 18-year-old Diego Ricardo (Juan Gabriel Yacuzzi), the youngest person in the world, and our protagonist Theo (Clive Owen) narrowly escaping a terrorist bombing of a coffee shop. Thereafter, he is kidnapped by old flame Julian (Julianne Moore), who heads up the group held responsible: the Fishes, who fight for the rights of illegal immigrants (in the movie, all non-citizens of Britain are illegal). Through their group, Theo discovers that not all hope for humanity has been lost, and he must embark on a perilous journey for the salvation and redemption of humanity.

The Visuals

The film is visually stunning in its portrayal of a decaying and dystopian England. I can’t say it’s beautiful, but the scene design and cinematography bring the desperation of the future world to vivid life. Filmed almost documentary-style, the filmmakers have given future-Britain an almost palpable texture. Every image reinforces the loneliness of the future, from the trashed-out, slow decay of urban London to the serenity of rural forests to the immense isolation of a fog-enshrouded sea. Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki deserves every kudo he receives for his award-worthy visuals. Even the haunting setting of a ramshackle, abandoned school, worthy of a ghost story, impresses with a dystopian grace.

Similarly, the film contains several awe-inspiring action sequences. For example, one breathtaking scene depicts a vicious attack on a car by raiders hiding in the woods. You’ve never seen a car chase like this. Another extended sequence, near the climax of the film, follows Theo moving through a battle between British soldiers and the Fishes. Theo is trying to enter a tenement building, and then return back out. The scene where Theo escorts Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey) and one other past the soldiers provides an amazing and intense moment.

Together, the visuals, the action, and the tight story yield a hold-your-breath, nail-biting suspense thriller.

The Characters & Actors

How interesting that Julianne Moore receives second billing for something like ten minutes of screen time. But she does a fantastic job. It almost makes me think of Dame Judi Dench as Queen Elizabeth in “Shakespeare in Love” (1998): she only had a brief role, but what a performance!

But the real scene-stealer is Michael Caine as Jasper, an aging pot-smoking hippy. He and Moore provide the most emotional depth and range of the film. Owen’s performance is appropriately cold and withdrawn, reflecting the soul-numbing effect of living in a world without hope. Only his ever-present bottle of hard liquor warms him up. Those few occasions when he does show a little humor or joy, it’s almost hard to buy into, such is the devastation that the environment and personal tragedy have wrought on him.

The film sticks close to Theo, leaving the viewer without a truly comprehensive picture of the grim society. That approach is a double-edged sword. It heightens the tension, giving the movie a tight, uncertain, and claustrophobic feel. At the same, it diminishes the context in which the story is taking place, which bleeds the film of deeper meaning….

The Vagueness

… Which brings me to my major (and really only) criticism of the movie: an irritating cornucopia of unanswered questions and unexplored ideas.

“Children of Men” offers up enough juicy tidbits of metaphor, symbol, and theme to give viewers who don’t mind filling in the blanks themselves a lot to chew over. At the same time, every time I start thinking through a theme or plot thread introduced in the movie, I can take it one or two steps deeper, but more than that and I’m left grasping at straws. That’s frustrating.

And it leaves the viewer with a lot of unanswered questions: surely humanity’s response would kick to high-gear very quickly. Even if they couldn’t solve the infertility problem, what about alternative possibilities, like cloning? Or did that fail too, or did people adhere to their moral objections even in the face of the infertility crisis? And what the hell is the Human Project, which turns out to be the Holy Grail of the movie’s protagonists?

The conclusion certainly doesn’t help. Yes, it’s poetic and powerful, but it creates almost as many new questions as old questions it fails to answer!

** WARNING – MAJOR SPOILERS FOLLOW. The rest of this writing contains more analysis than review, so please stop here until you’ve seen the film, and then return. **

Themes

Nevertheless, although the movie fails to take its themes very far, it introduces some fantastic and deeply thought-provoking ideas and suppositions:

• Infertility. Taken metaphorically, this could reflect the increasing destructiveness of humanity. Perhaps our tendency to aggressiveness has remained constant over history, but the means to destroy have grown exponentially in power and scope. Infertility could also be taken as a more subtle metaphor, commenting on humanity’s tendency to recycle rather than truly create. In fact, many times our inability to leave the past behind, to unhinge ourselves from our baggage, is what causes us to repeat the same mistakes. Of course, I should note – I’m taking this idea and expounding on it with my own thoughts. The film does not explore it further than introducing it as a plot point.
• Zero-Sum Politics. “Children of Men” paints a stark portrait of a world with finite and diminishing resources. Those who have are almost literally taking food out of the mouths of those who have not. As the remaining population ages, gradually it will be left to fewer and fewer people to support a huge population of elderly folks. At some point, without any young people to replenish the work force, the weight of the population requiring support and assistance will be crushing. Which naturally would lead to…
  • Xenophobia. In the film, most of the world has descended into madness and anarchy, and Britain is one of the last bastions of “orderly” civilization. But it comes at a high price: only natural-born British citizens are legal. Everyone else is stuffed into concentration camps (more sinister camps are hinted at, but not revealed) and/or deported.
  • Self-Interest. In a time of darkness and chaos, self-interest reigns. It’s easily believable, but also a sad commentary. Most people like to believe that adversity brings out the best in us, that our humanitarian instincts would draw us together and give truth to Aesop’s statement “United we stand, divided we fall.” But in the face of a zero-sum situation, many (if not most) people will be ruled by their own self-interest. In the movie, this is clearly true not just on an individual level, but also in terms of political movements (Luke, played by Chiwetel Ejiofor, who leads the Fishes after Julian’s death, appears all too willing to endanger the best chance for humanity’s salvation for his own partisan goals; same with policeman Syd, played by Peter Mullan) and nations (the xenophobia in the film reveals that Britain clearly favors Britons at the expense of non-Britons). Frankly, self-interest can be defensible, even morally defensible, in such a situation. But it also comes with a terrible price tag, not least of which is our own humanity.
  • Sectarian Violence. Rather than bringing out the best, tragedy elicits the worst in many people. Self-interest can be an understandable guiding principle in dangerous times, but it’s a slippery slope which can easily turn into an eye-for-an-eye and a life-for-a-life. Rather than quelling sectarian interests in favor of coming together (”united we stand”), disaster and a permanent lack of resources simply fuel sectarian violence. Because the sects and gangs become like extended families: they become support groups dedicated to protecting their own (unless “their own” decide to stage a coup, as in the movie). It’s unlikely that an individual (especially a poor or lower class individual) would have access to sufficient resources to survive, much less thrive. Even family units would probably struggle. But by uniting in a gang-situation, they might have a fighting chance. And “fighting” is certainly the key word, because the resources for survival have to come from somewhere. And the government, unable to snap its fingers and create new resources, is clearly going to be unable to solve the problem. Hence…
• The Relativity of Moral Principles. The British government provides home suicide kits (”Quietus”) to its citizens. Considering the controversy over euthanasia, this is an element of the film I have a hard time buying into. But I also realize that Britain will have dwindling resources, and I am also well are that most moral postulates, far from being absolute, evolve both over time and through circumstances. Often the morals reflect the self-serving interests (e.g., reducing the drain on the government’s resources).
• Iraq. The film definitely includes some commentary on the current War on Terror, with emphasis on the action in Iraq. There’s a newspaper clipping in Jasper’s house explicitly making a statement against the war in Iraq. The journey to Bexhill also includes a stop with hooded prisoners, including one standing in a pose identical to the infamous photo from Abu Ghraib.

Fundamentally, “Children of Men” takes many of our current problems and magnifies them. It asks, what would the world look like if Today’s Topical Issues A, B, and C were each multiplied by 1,000? It paints a bleak and desperate, but believable, portrait.

Interestingly, the characters’ names all seem to offer additional layers of meaning as well:

• Kee, who gives birth to the first baby in nearly 20 years and possibly holds the key to humanity’s survival in her hands (or womb, as the case may be). The Chinese word chi (or ch’i, or qi, or Japanese ki) means “life energy” or “spiritual energy
• Theo, who helps Kee to give birth and escape into a better tomorrow. “Theo” is derived from “theos,” which is Greek for “deity” or “god.” Although he’s playing a Joseph figure for the most part, the ending of the movie imparts a bit of a Christ vibe onto him. A recurrent theme through the movie is, is God punishing humanity? The film in no way expresses this, but perhaps Theo has been chosen to function as a divine instrument for the preservation of humanity.
• Jasper, a “wise old man” figure who plays a pivotal role in helping Kee and Theo escape. According to Wikipedia, Jasper is a Dutch/German variant of the name Casper, who was one of the three gift-giving Kings present at the birth of the Christ.
• Julian, Theo’s former flame and the peace-preferring leader of the Fishes who recognizes Kee as humanity’s greatest hope. English history tells of a Medieval female mystic named Julian of Norwich who saw suffering not as punishment but as a means to draw people closer to God. She lived during the Plague, which many people interpreted divine punishment. (For more information, try http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/julian.htm).
• Miriam (Pam Ferris), who functions as a caretaker and midwife to Kee until they are separated. Biblically (Exodus 2:1-10), Miriam was Moses’ sister, and it was she who hid Moses after the Pharaoh decreed that all Hebrew male babies be killed.

Overall

I am disappointed at the myriad questions left unanswered, and the intriguing themes left unexplored, but the film is a powerful and thrilling experience. It’s heavy, but it may just be one of those films that makes you think about the world a little bit differently.

At the beginning of this review, I called the film a brilliant but flawed gem. Perhaps that’s an accurate description of the human race as well.