Captain America: Civil War – Continuity Lockout

Yes (If you have an investment in the MCU and remember story elements from previous movies)

No otherwise

13 movies in and the MCU is only getting harder for those not invested, or in some way informed about, to care about and follow.

This is the new world we live in, where franchise film making is ever present to the point that Universal is giving their stable of movie monsters a shared universe reboot, and even James Bond movies are slave to carving continuity where there should be none.

Yet where Bond, Universal, and more recently, DC have failed, Marvel have (through tight control and strict formula, with its own problems) managed to create a juggernaut that, at the best of times feels like a lived in and fully realised world. They have done to the silver screen what continuity driven television, or for that matter, what Super Hero comics have been doing.

While this is not necessarily a bad thing, it isn’t necessarily a good thing either. By virtue of being big, expensive things that take time to make and come out between instalments, having such a heavy reliance on narrative beats from close to a decade worth of movies will necessarily make following the MCU a difficult and potentially onerous task for the casual film goer.

This is where Captain America: Civil War stands. Plot elements and character beats from previous movies all come together to drive a rich character story, that just so happens to be layered upon a middling narrative. It feels like the least casual watch friendly of the MCU movies, actively demanding a knowledge of the MCU as a whole to fully appreciate all that the film has to offer. While certain of the MCU movies (Iron Man 2 and Thor: The Dark World, for example) could rightfully be criticised for serving as glorified advertisements for future instalments, the majority, and in fact, the best of the MCU could stand alone as their own entertainment. Take a look at Guardians of the Galaxy, or even at Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

That said, while other MCU movies serve the dual purpose of serving to set the pieces for succeeding films, while also developing their own characters, the two Captain America sequels have been tasked with a triple purpose of setting the board, developing Cap, and remixing and recontextualising the events of the MCU to keep things fresh. Winter Soldier pulled the rug out from under us regarding the nature of SHIELD and past events of the MCU (think back to the scene in Iron Man 2 where the government attempted to gain control of Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit technology and shudder at the realisation that it was Hydra pulling the strings there).

Herein lies the problem with Civil War. Having a larger number of pieces on the board to violently shake around, the majority of the film’s forward momentum is dedicated to reaching back into the past and messing with it. The film’s actual stand alone plot, while delivering a villain that is more complex and sympathetic than the majority of MCU villains, relies on screenwriting tricks and narrative contrivance that almost sinks whatever good will I had for Civil War as a stand alone piece of entertainment. Imagine if you will The Joker’s level of omnipotence, without the implicit and sometimes explicit understanding of The Joker more as a narrative device than as a character in his own right, and you are getting close to the problem with Civil War’s villain and narrative arc. That Civil War has in any way a compelling villain compared to the larger MCU says more to damn the quality of villains of this franchise than to praise Civil War’s.

So as a stand alone film it is the weakest of the Captain America movies, and among one of the weaker all around MCU entries. That’s not to say it is completely devoid of merit. The action scenes are more competently staged than those in The Winter Soldier, though they may come across as superfluous at times and are hampered by the ugliness of the digital format, and the third act actively narrows the conflict down to what works best and ends up as a vicious, personal climax rather than the exhausting and pointless escalations to 20 minutes of CGI Armageddon that was for so long the MCU house style. Still, without a baseline investment in the MCU and its goings on, Civil War comes dangerously close to being a tedious, nothing movie.

Civil War’s plot is kicked off by a mission to tie up some loose ends introduced at the end of Winter Soldier that goes horribly wrong, resulting in civilian casualties. This sets in motion one of the grimmest, most emotionally charged films in the MCU. The Avengers are faced with an ideological struggle, that creates fractures in their unity , and leads to the titular “civil war”. The “war” in question is much smaller in scope than what I have been lead to believe its comics namesake, with the battles being mostly those of words. Positions are set up and countered, there are appeals to emotion and authority, and it is ultimately bruised egos, psychological distress, and stubbornness that lead to the fists flying and men falling from the skies. There’s rich character interaction going on here, and the emotional and ideological wrestling is much more interesting than the film’s strides to be political. It doesn’t really have much to say about the validity and morality of extrajuduicial and extragovernmental foreign interventionism beyond what the characters themselves bring to the table. The third act jettisons all pretence of Civil War being a political thriller in the vein of Winter Soldier to focus solely on small scale emotional stakes.

Tony Stark is once again pro-registration and Steve Rogers is anti-registration. Stark’s stance is informed by the guilt and previously implied PTSD he suffered at the hands of his hubris and the harm and destruction it precipitated. It has cost him his relationship with Pepper Potts, has led to the events of all three Iron Man movies, and to the destruction and loss of life that Ultron caused. He cannot seem to keep himself in check, and believes UN oversight will be able to keep the collateral damage low.
Rogers, on the other hand, has witnessed first hand what unquestioned adherence to authority can result in. SHIELD was a front for Hydra, that almost led to their victory and millions and millions of deaths. The possibility of allowing Hydra or another such organisation prevent the Avengers from acting in the best interests of Earth is something he cannot abide. Thinking back even further to Captain America: The First Avenger, Rogers knows what it’s like to have an overwhelming desire to help and be unable to act due to the chain of command deciding they have a better, more politically friendly use for him.

Civil War in general is at its best when it is pairing up and squaring off its characters. Sam Wilson and Bucky Barns are effectively two of Captain America’s best friends, trying to see who is the secret actual best friend. Black Panther and the film’s villain are men driven by vengeance. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are two leaders on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum. The Vision and Scarlet Witch are two beings struggling to deal with a world that fears their awesome power and potential for destruction in different ways.

The film sings along without having to dedicate too much time to developing character or introducing their positions because the remainder of the MCU has done most of the heavy lifting for it. And this is the crux of the problem. Civil War is at its best when it is an experiment in franchise film making, allowing it to be a conversation as much with its audience as it is with its franchise history. But its reliance on its franchise history makes it one of the most alienating mainstream movies I have seen in recent history. These are not Easter eggs to be enjoyed by the franchise faithful, these are the basic building blocks of the film’s worth as a piece of entertainment.

And if you come into Civil War without the pre-requisite context? Why should you care about Tony Stark showing Steve Rogers his father’s antique fountain pens (aside from the fact fountain pens are amazing)? Would you even notice the dramatic reversal when it’s Steve who pulls an unconscious Bucky out of the water? Do you even know who General Ross is, and why he is particularly pleased to mention that the Avengers have no idea where Bruce Banner is? Why would Black Widow ask Clint if they are still friends?

And with a middling narrative holding together the remixing, referencing, recontextualising, and character moments, why would you want to sit through a film this long? It is a film of contradictions, trying to please too many masters. It attempts to be a political thriller when it is actually a character drama. It is a tense mystery film that pauses the mystery to deliver bombastic and mostly inconsequential set pieces. It is a film with a politically engaged message that doesn’t bother to think its politics through beyond what feels right to position its characters for a third act confrontation. It is a focused character study with an expanded cast of characters that mostly get overlooked.

Ultimately I enjoyed Civil War, but only because I took the effort to follow the MCU enough to understand its place in the modern cinematic landscape. Without my (admittedly flimsy) understanding of the MCU, I would have been entirely uninvolved, as my friend who saw it with me was. It is worth noting that he has seen almost every MCU film , and has enjoyed the majority of them. However, he engaged each one as a stand alone film.

The question then becomes, is it okay to critique a film for working within the conventions of contemporary mainstream franchise story telling, when it does so better than its competition? Is it okay to say that the 13th film in a long running franchise is not good as a stand alone product? What happens when keeping informed enough to enjoy the franchise becomes more of a chore, an obligation to a machine designed to synergise and push corporate product?

The aforementioned continuity driven television is becoming more and more a thing in this age of Netflix and DVR. Yet the way Netflix has changed the media landscape does not mean that all forms of media should follow this route. The reason Netflix works is because it facilitates binge watching. The medium facilitates the form. Netflix shows have their seasons produced to completion before being made available to the binge watching audience. There is no down time between episodes, only between seasons. A film franchise cannot indulge in this luxury.

But the fact it took 13 movies to get to this stage when the DCEU took 2…

Is it fair to blame Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Young Adult movie adaptations and the MCU for this trend?

Bewitching Funny Animals

Over this Easter Long Weekend, I have seen two movies on drastically different poles. The first being a funny animal message movie from the House of Mouse, the second being The Witch.

I have also been listening to The Idle Weekend, a podcast I would recommend if you have any interest in Video Games, and this has got me thinking about “rating systems” and their utility. I feel like it would be an exercise in helping me derive my thesis and have it show in the text of my articles if I adopt a simple Yes/No system. Why is it that I say Yes, this is worth watching, or No it isn’t? Numbers have always seem rather arbitrary to me, unless you’re someone like Tim Brayton, in which case more power to you.

With that in mind, I shall debut this system here for these two movies.

1) Zootopia.

YES

First thing’s first. Zootopia is super duper ultra adorable, and that instantly won it a lot of points with me (Full disclosure: I adore cute/adorable things). It also has beautiful production design and strong vocal performances.

Zootopia is a funny and witty funny animal take on the Buddy Cop genre, pairing the city’s first Rabbit Police Officer on an impossible mission with a Fox con-artist. Needless to say, the two of them learn there’s more to each other than surface level characteristics, and one of the film’s great strengths is its setting up and subsequent subversion of these stereotypes to fulfill the dual purpose of getting laughs and digging at character truth. The mystery they set out to solve is ultimately rather predictable, but their character interactions and various approaches to solving it serves as the main driving force of the narrative and provides Zootopia with its heart.

As mentioned before, it is a message movie, and it strives hard to talk about prejudice and its damage, particularly racial prejudice. The world of Zootopia consists of a society run and governed by Predators, with a majority population of unequally disenfranchised Prey animals.

It does have some mature things to say about the nature of prejudice, and how even well meaning people can bring great harm to particular groups of people through ignorance and spreading misinformation.

Zootopia is not without its flaws, though. A particularly big one being the way the world has been conceptualised. It sets up Predators as the animals in all positions of power, yet ultimately positions them as victims of prejudice. The film makes specific mention of the fact that the City’s population is 10% or less predators, and its use of this specific language shows a lack of awareness as to the signifiers being used, and the power/class differentials in real world prejudice. Zootopia comes dangerously close to fighting in the corner of privileged groups and suggesting that they have it as hard, if not worse off than genuinely alienated groups in our societies. This is a dangerous message for the film to send to its child audience, or even its adult audience for that matter.

Lesser grievances I had with Zootopia revolve around how it feels more like a movie produced by Dreamworks Animation than Disney. It relies quite a bit on pop culture references for its humour, rather than sticking to its much stronger character motivated gags. You are sure to find references to The Godfather, Speed, and Breaking Bad among others, and it feels like a crutch to make the film seem relevant to this time, rather than acting as a timeless piece, confident in its central thesis and characters to carry it. It even ends on a dance party.

Interestingly, a secondary thematic arc flows through the movie; that of women struggling to be taken seriously in typically male dominated fields, with both the main Bunny character, and a prominent secondary character struggling to make it in their chosen vocations. The film, however, foregrounds its faulty race metaphor and this secondary theme feels more like incidental flavour than a genuine attempt to explore another dimension of prejudice and privilege.

But when Zootopia explores its central characters and their relationships. and the struggles of its female characters, it shines. It is not a great film, but saying its botching of privilege and power relationships renders it incapable of having any intelligent insight into the workings of discrimination would be throwing the baby out with the bathwater. It also happens that Zootopia is an adorable and often funny family adventure film, and I would take an ambitious animated film over one that tries to coast along any day.

2) The Witch

YES

The Witch is a difficult movie. It is a slow burner that gradually builds tension while the world unravels for its characters, and it is simultaneously deeply invested in being authentic in its construction of time, place, and character. It runs the risk of being alienating to horror fans and people interested in costume dramas. But by god does it do these two things well. So well, in fact that the one could not exist without the other. So entwined is the horror in its world building, and its world building in its horror that to favour the one over the other would be to rob The Witch of its potency.

I have listed this film as YES, so if any of that sounds appealing, please go track it down. The less you know about the particulars of the movie, the better. 

It is clear a lot of research has been conducted for this film, with dialogue even being lifted from source texts. The details from dialect to set dressing and costuming to the presentation of Puritan customs and lifestyle, lends the film a verisimilitude that informs the way the viewer reacts. This verisimilitude is aided by a stretch at the beginning of the film dedicated to setting up the world, the key players, their situation and beliefs, before spending the rest of the runtime challenging those beliefs. 

The basic premise is such; a family has been exiled from their community due to their patriarch’s prideful insistence that he and his are the most Puritan of all. First time director Robert Eggers shows his handle on formal elements by never allowing the viewer a clear look at the community. You see the family and the judges, and the most you see of the settlement is from the midst of the family, showing a narrow and mostly eclipsed view of the main path receding away until the gates are shut on them. 

With this the audience shares in the alienation from the one potentially comforting and safe location in the film’s world. Another thing to note, the first image of the film serves to establish a point of view character while also sowing seeds of doubt in the viewer. To say much more would venture into spoiler territory. 

The Witch is a film about the horrors faced by people in a certain time and place, be they natural or supernatural. It is a testament to the strength of the film’s construction that it can immerse the viewer in a potentially alien belief system, and mine its horrors from it. In that way it is similar to The Exorcist, though not as profane or overt. I understand it is heretical in some circles to say this, but I found The Witch to be all together more affecting and disturbing than The Exorcist, as a person outside of the Faiths presented in both movies. 

Watch it if you want to be transported to a time and place unlike ours to be unsettled by what you find there. 

#52FilmsByWomen 1 to 5

I’m taking up the #52FilmsByWomen pledge this year, and I thought I would also write about these movies after I have watched them. It’s one thing watching 52 films directed by women, it’s an entirely other thing to try and process them.

Keep in mind that I am ordering these films based on viewing order, not based on an assessment of their quality.

So here are capsule write ups 1 to 5!

1) A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night:
A visually dazzling black and white movie. Slow burning, dripping with atmosphere with not much in the way of narrative. It feels more like a series of vignettes set in the fictional Bad City (A city that lives up to its name). Though allegedly set in Iran, it is shot in California, adding to the bizarre otherworldiness of the film.
The titular Girl initially comes off as a quasi-feminist figure, protecting the victimised women of Bad City from the men who exploit them. Her character is coloured by her continued insistence that she is a bad person as well as her killing of a harmless vagrant for no given reason.
Unfortunately I do not have the context to be able to talk about the films A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night pays homage to, but I can say it is a striking feature debut and I look forward to more.

 
2) Honey Moon:
An unsettling and effective low budget character driven horror movie. The film is at its best when it is operating as allegory. It gets great mileage out of exploring the uncertainty faced by people when their romantic partner no longer appears to be or act like the person they remember them to be early in the relationship. Highlights can be found in scenes where one of the characters is rehearsing and memorising details of their previous life, as if they were trying to continue putting up a facade of what attracted their partner to them in the first place.

 
Unfortunately, the movie does fall over when it starts relying on more conventional horror techniques, veering into body horror and gore in the last leg, and stretching the allegorical premise too far.

 
Still, a well shot, tightly paced character study that bodes well for the director’s future.

 
3) Kung Fu Panda 2:
This movie is gorgeous. It looks absolutely stunning, is popping with style and colour, and has some amazingly staged action sequences. It is not necessarily as snappily written as the first Kung Fu Panda film, but still ends up a surprisingly mature exploration of PTSD and processing trauma. When it fires on all cylinders, it is an amazing piece of pop entertainment. In particular, the stylistic decision to have traumatic flashbacks and night terrors rendered in 2D, while “normal” memories and real life are rendered in 3D allows for one particularly gorgeous sequence when the 2D slowly transitions into 3D. It is story telling through form and elevates the movie above some of the other 3D animated family movies I have seen in complexity and competence.

 
I am honestly quite surprised that it isn’t regarded as fondly as the first Kung Fu Panda, and that so many people read Po’s struggling to come to terms with his trauma as a dumb character failing to see the obvious truth in front of him.

 
4) I Believe In Unicorns:
This film is definitely as twee as the title suggests. That said I was surprised by how honest and emotionally raw it was. It is a coming of age teen romance, and the real strength of the movie, other than its stylistic boldness, is the aforementioned emotional honesty. It really feels voyeuristic at times; I felt like I was witness to things too personal to be seen by me.

 
It is shot on 16mm with fantasy sequences shot on super 8mm. The stylistic playfulness is interesting at first, starts to become grating after a while in its utter tweeness, then veers into a surprising and dark place when the real world narrative does as well. The fantasy sequences trade heavily in stereotypically girly imagery (unicorn toys, glitter, sparklers), and serve to chronicle the main character’s desire for escapism, and her dawning realisation that her real life relationship cannot serve the purpose she wants it to.
Her prince charming, an older skater boy, is her ticket away from her depressing life taking care of her disabled mother. They initially bond over absent fathers, go on an ill advised road trip, and then their individual neuroses start revealing darker, more troubling aspects of each others personalities. She prods and pokes at his emotional scars and insecurities, inviting conflict, and he in turn lashes out with barely controlled anger and violence. Their previous, clumsy, playful exploration of their sexuality becomes more violent and desperate as the film goes on. It is a chronicle of two kids trying to play at being adults without the skills or knowledge to navigate the world, let alone each other’s company.

 
At this point I have hit what is probably the most personal, and most overtly “female” coded of the movies I have set out to watch this year. While it is stretched too thin, even at a brisk 80 minutes, its emotional authenticity more than makes up for it. Another promising feature debut.

 
5) Live Nude Girls Unite
A documentary by Julia Query and Vicki Furani that offers a unique and at times very personal look behind the curtain as the employees of The Lusty Lady unionise and fight for safer work conditions.

 
A well crafted film that is playful, angry, sad, and hopeful. It was a wonder to see the hard won battle to form America’s first Union for sex workers inspire sex workers across the country to challenge abusive work practices.

 
Julia and Vicki do a good job of quickly laying the groundwork by explaining the terminology behind unionising, as well as the situations that sex workers at various establishments found themselves facing. This frees up time for the film to focus on its characters as they deal with every loss and victory on the path to establishing a union. Each woman’s individual life experiences and circumstances are covered, and in the film’s short running time, they are all fleshed out, underlying the film’s thesis that sex work is just work, and sex workers are employees that deserve to be treated with the same respect afforded to employees in other industries.

 
Tangentially, Live Nude Girls Unite explores Julia’s relationship with her mother, a doctor who has dedicated her career to aiding prostitutes to lead a safer life. She is an incredibly passionate woman who is doing huge amounts of good with her efforts. Both Julia and her mother are striving to improve the lives and conditions of women in the sex industry, however Julia was not out to her mother about being a sex worker herself. The film gets a lot of human drama out of this, and things come to a head as they both find themselves presenting at the same conference about sex work.

 
In chronicling the struggles of the employees of the Lusty Lady, as well as the relationship between Julia and her mother, Live Nude Girls Unite explores the complexities of the sex industry, the women who choose to work in it, and feminism’s differing opinions of sex work and sex workers.

 

 

So that ends the first 5 capsules of my series. I am still sitting at 49 films on my list (and one of them is an anthology of 26 shorts, with only two of the shorts directed by women). In order to sample a wider range of voices, I have decided to hold myself to watching one film per director. That I am having difficulty identifying films directed by women, or finding a way to watch them legally with the limits placed on travelling to the far reaches of Sydney by my current living situation is something that frustrates and upsets me.

It is most definitely an unfortunate combination of my own inability to work up the effort and the limited market penetration of films directed by women, and had I the psychic fortitude to hunt these movies down, or the funds for that matter, I would have an easier time of hitting the 52 mark.

Spectre is a shadow of its former selves

Spectre spoilers follow, yo.

Spectre is Sam Mendes’ second time to bat with the Bond Franchise after his 2012 Skyfall. However, sadly, it seems he couldn’t bottle that lightning a second time.

Almost everything is a step backwards in quality from his previous outing. The marriage of modern “Bourne era” Bond with the old school sensibilities of the franchise that worked well in giving Skyfall a fan pleasing flavour feels much more forced and contrived this time around. Spectre frequently shifts between tones and modes, not knowing whether the scene is better served by tension building, a one liner, or the occasional slapstick. Almost every bit of humour feels misjudged and undercuts the sense of dread the film is striving for. When it’s not shoehorning in awkward comedic interludes, it is making reference to past films so blatantly that it feels like returning writers Purvis and Wade want desperately to convince audiences that yes, this is indeed a James Bond film! Look, here is a fight on a train with no musical score like From Russia with Love! Spectre attempts to be too cute for its own good.

Speaking of writing and looking backwards through franchise history, Purvis and Wade appear to have been taking from their Brosnan era playbook. Dialogue feels less character motivated and more in line with the quip happy, yet desperate to be taken seriously Brosnan Bond films. Pervis and Wade seem content to cram in as many one liners and witty asides without regard to quality or character truth. Where Casino Royale was pure in its intentions to depict the circumstances leading up to the birth of Bond as we know him, Skyfall wrestled with themes of ageing, obsolescence and death, and even the poorly received Quantum of Solace had hints of a bigger force at play behind the scenes, Spectre actively undoes any of the intrigue created in the previous Craig Bond films by being simultaneously convoluted and over plotted, and revealing everything that had previously happened was the end result of sibling rivalry. It’s fair to say Quantum of Solace had a worse screenplay, but that’s because it didn’t have one. The writers’ strike hit right during its production resulting in the muddled movie we have today. Spectre has no such excuse.

That’s not to say that nothing in Spectre was good. Individual scenes are interesting when taken out of context. The film is gorgeously lensed and staged with a good sense of geography and pacing to the action scenes and a minimal use of hand held camera. It is a handsome looking picture. One scene in particular, a meeting held by the organisation Spectre is dripping with menace. It is a pity such craftsmanship for individual pieces did not result in an exceptional whole.

Christoph Waltz was under-utilised as series big bad Blofeld, spending much of his onscreen time spewing exposition rather than engaging in villainy. Ralph Feinnes acquits himself well given the material he had to work with. The other principle players suffer for various reasons. Moneypenny feels flat, much like in Skyfall, Q is exaggerated to the point of caricature, and Craig’s Bond himself comes off as tired and uninterested in the movie he finds himself in.

Spectre was not done any favours by being the 3rd Craig Bond film in a row to suggest the 00 programme is antiquated and in need of replacement. It had nothing interesting to say about the nature of modern intelligence programmes other than in a world where everyone is being watched, anyone, even cartoonishly evil villains, can be doing the watching. It even fell back on the same counter argument that sometimes, a human’s judgement is still needed. In a post Snowden world, such a topic can be mined for great thematic depth. Spectre does nothing more than use it as window dressing for an uninteresting and underdeveloped narrative arc connecting Blofeld to Bond. It’s kind of embarrassing to suggest that the remake of Robocop integrated this message more comfortably into its mangled, Frankenstein’s monster of a corporate movie.

Spectre was too long at 150 minutes. The weird thing is I cannot think of what could actually be trimmed from the movie, with the screenplay in its current state, to make for a tighter, better experience. Its attempt to be the fun Craig era Bond film left it without its own sense of identity. It is ultimately a lot of wasted time spent treading water on a movie and a screenplay that do not justify their own existence and is a huge let down after Skyfall.

 

 

 

Surprise Crimson Peak mini-review

Crimson Peak got the same reaction out of me that Pacific Rim was trying to. It was a gloriously camp genre film that acted as a homage to a much beloved story telling style, and I had a huge amount of fun with it. To be clear, Crimson Peak is a creepy Gothic Romance with supernatural elements. It is not a horror film, but that is not to say it doesn’t try to be spooky from time to time. If anything, I honestly believe Crimson Peak would have worked as well without any supernatural elements.

The production design is the obvious star of Crimson Peak. It is a gorgeous, gorgeous movie to look at with a pallet of deep greens, golds, and reds. Del Toro has a way with colours, set design, and creature design, and Crimson Peak is no different.

It feels like it has more in common with his Spanish Language films than his English ones, but is more fun and slight. Specific scenes in Crimson Peak mirror those in Pan’s Labyrinth, and the ghost and creature design harken back to The Devil’s Backbone, with one ghost in particular bearing a striking resemblance to the little boy’s ghost. Doug Jones once again hits it out of the park with amazing physical performances that are inhuman and grotesque, yet clearly pained and fuelled by suffering.

The characters are stock types, but are played exceptionally by a very talented cast. Jessica Chastain is absolutely wonderful and gives the standout performance.

It is a good fun time at the movies, nothing more, nothing less, and I would like to see it again.

An adventure 14 years in the making?

So I saw Jurassic World a few days ago, and it’s finally processed that I have seen a 4th Jurassic movie. After the 14 year wait, it was somewhat surreal and heady an experience.

This isn’t going to be an easy thing to write. How do you unpack 14 years of expectations for a sequel to a movie you’ve seen 70 times over a 22 year period across 5 different formats?

Let’s do an obligatory plot summary, because that’s how these things go. It’s 22 years after the Jurassic Park incident. InGen has been purchased by Masrani Global, a megacorp of sorts, run by the son of a friend of John Hammond. Masrani have created and successfully run Jurassic World for ten years. There is now a whole generation of kids who have grown up not knowing a world before Dinosaurs (keep this in mind, I’ll return to it). In a bid to keep interest in the park high and increase profits, InGen create a designer dinosaur through gene splicing. Things go wrong, the dinosaur escapes and endangers the lives of everyone on the island.

Colin Trevorrow managed to land the gig of directing Jurassic World back when Brad Bird was still considered to direct Star Wars Episode VII. Being a newcomer with only a modest indie comedy under his belt, Trevorrow seemed like an odd choice for director. He insisted he was a huge fan of the material and paid his due respects, but other creatives have said that and churned out substandard product. The casting of a number of comedy actors also seemed somewhat strange, hinting at a potentially bizarre tone. Bizarre and uneven is ultimately what Jurassic World‘s tone is. It springboards from childlike awe and wonder, to the odd scene with suspense, to broad comedic jabs, to miscalculated and fetishistic mean spiritedness, with one kill in particular feeling like it wouldn’t be out of place in a horror movie if it were played for horror rather than petty spectacle.

It’s not entirely horrible though, the blue colour mix was toned down considerably. All kidding aside, in one or two scenes, the Indominus Rex makes for an interesting antagonist, if one that never gets given its dues, having abilities introduced and never seen again. Seeing the park fully functional during the opening moments made me feel a giddy joy I hadn’t felt while watching a Jurassic Movie since Jurassic Park. An initial exploration of animal husbandry, and behavioural science, with subtle commentary on the practice of keeping animals isolated in captivity to the detriment of the animal’s social development hearken back to the discussions of the futility of assuming control over a complex system no human had any intimate knowledge of that took place in Jurassic Park.

Beyond these brief moments the script is painfully cheesy and flatly written, with characters embodying outmoded stock types rather than feeling fleshed out or in any way compelling. The screenplay’s shallowness leads to awkward moments where attempts to give characters depth only ends up making them spout alternately contradictory sentences at the screen. Masrani, for example, alternates between a carefree billionaire who doesn’t give a damn about Jurassic World being profitable, and a Scrooge who doesn’t want a kill order put out on a dinosaur endangering countless lives because it cost $26 million to develop. It is somewhat awkward in hindsight when Joss (I wrote a movie in which it is accidentally implied a woman states her infertility makes her as monstrous as The Hulk) Whedon was on point with the movie feeling 70s era sexist. In what was an attempt to come across as an adventure serial like Romancing the Stone, Jurassic World‘s gender politics is distressingly retrograde. Brice Dallas Howard’s Claire is a workaholic prig what don’t need no man, who spends the entire movie in high heals, and whose character arc involves her realising she should settle down with a man and maybe having kids isn’t a bad idea. The majority of Jurassic World‘s world building is done through telling, and it is plagued with scenes where characters talk plot points and exposition at each other, rather than engaging as believable humans. In light of action movies that do exceptional amounts of world building and story telling visually through action, such as John Wick and Mad Max: Fury Road, it was disappointing to see such a clumsy approach to narrative. While Jurassic Park was guilty of this to an extent, it had the good sense to be witty and playful with its characters in its downtime, and often mined them for genuine pathos in the process.

Despite this, most of the principle players do a lot with what they are given. Chris Pratt does his best in a role that tasks him with being almost entirely serious, robbing him of the charm he displayed in Guardians of the Galaxy. Howard does her best to flesh Claire out into more than a stereotype. BD Wong and Omar Sy are magnetic, though criminally underutilised. Chief human antagonist, Vincent D’onofrio’s Hoskins is clearly having fun mugging for the camera as what amounts to a villain out of Captain Planet.

Now let’s get to the thing that bothered a number of Jurassic Park fans, the fact that the majority of the dinosaur screen time was created using CGI. For the most part, the CG looks amazing in terms of its rendering. There’s a level of texture and attention to detail that was not present in Jurassic Park, and anyone who says Jurassic World‘s CG is worse than Jurassic Park‘s would do well to watch Jurassic Park again. However, where Jurassic Park succeeded and Jurassic World failed is that it used its dinosaurs sparingly and for maximum emotional impact. Jurassic Park is 127 minutes long, and the dinosaurs are only on screen for 15 of them. Most of the dinosaur related mayhem takes place at night and in the rain, allowing for a certain roughness to the CG, something that you cannot get away with in harsh, bright, daylight. And while Jurassic World’s CG detail may surpass that of Jurassic Park‘s, there are times when animations feel a little bit off leading to Jurassic World falling further into the uncanny valley than the 22 year old film. With the increase in action comes an over exposure to the dinosaurs, making them feel more familiar and less threatening. As mentioned above, set pieces were created to create spectacle, rather than to elicit an emotional response, and it feels like a loosely connected series of scenes that looked cool in previz. The one scene where animatronics are clearly used turns out to be one of Jurassic World‘s emotional high points, a touching scene that mirrors the reveal of the sick triceratops in Jurassic Park.

Interestingly, there seems to be a slightly subversive quality to Jurassic World, as if it were a summer blockbuster that hated being a summer blockbuster. It plays up the inherent ridiculousness of a highly intelligent, genetically spliced together Frankenstein’s Monster of a dinosaur, and the audience demand for “Bigger, Louder, More Teeth”. There’s even mention of the Indominus Rex being put before focus groups to determine what it should be for maximum audience enjoyment. A character talks about how Jurassic Park was the real deal, and that product placement and corporate sponsorship is horrible. “Verizon Wireless presents the Indominus Rex,” Claire announces proudly, confirming she landed a sponsorship deal. Might as well go all the way and give the corporations naming rights for the dinosaurs after they took over sporting arenas, replies her co-worker, offering such choice options as “Pepsisaurus” (a thing that made me laugh, not because the joke landed, but because Gasosaurus is a thing).

Trevorrow has mentioned that he was inspired to go in this particular direction by the image of a teenage boy on the phone with his back to the glass of a t-rex enclosure, and to an extent the film follows through with its explorations of Hollywood triteness, and our increasing solipsism and disconnection from the grandeur of the natural world.

However, for all its lecturing about how people aren’t impressed by dinosaurs any more, only one character shows any disinterest. The majority of park goers seem thrilled to be there. The tropes it mocks (e.g. Claire being totally unprepared to travel safely in a dinosaur infested wilderness while dressed in fashionable clothing), it also plays straight (e.g. Claire running in heels for all of her screen time). It is stuffed full of product placement, including shots of vehicles driving that look like they were lifted out of car advertisements. What it makes passes at subverting, it also tries very hard to be. It wants to have its cake and eat it too. Jurassic World is a film without any unifying identity, trying to be too many things for too many people and never really succeeding at any one thing other than being the least terrible Jurassic sequel. And still being blue. For no discernible reason.

This is a movie aimed at people who have grown up with Jurassic Park being our Star Wars, while trying to service the needs of an audience that have not known a world of film making before Jurassic Park shook the world. Where Jurassic Park succeeded with sincerity and an overwhelming desire to please and engage its audience, Jurassic World is a cynical, undercooked commentary on itself as an action movie, a Jurassic Park sequel, and as a movie that was originally going to be about a gene spliced paramilitary raptor squad.

In a perfect world, Jurassic World would have leaned more heavily into its satirical and subversive elements. It could have made an excellent Paul Verhoeven movie. Instead, what we’ve ended up with is more Robocop (2014) than Robocop (1987).

5.5/10

Why is Jurassic World so BLUE?

No, really, why is Jurassic World so BLUE?

I have some idea of why Jurassic World IS blue, but no idea why it is SO blue.

Teal (or blue) and Orange colour correction is not a new thing, and it’s not a trend I am particularly fond of.

That being said, when I first watched the Jurassic World trailer, it really seemed aggressively blue to me, more so than other similarly colour corrected films. It wasn’t until rewatching the trailer today that I realised why.

Let’s have a look at it:

The film’s blueness goes beyond just its colour correction. The scenes presented in the trailer are actively aggressively blue. Take the following for example:

jw1

Almost everything in the frame is really blue, the one big exception being the top worn by the children’s mother. I’ll dig into a possibly entirely unfounded interpretation of the visual story telling going on here later.

Here are a couple of more screen grabs from the trailer to illustrate what I mean by there being a lot of blue packed into the frame even before colour correction took place.

Notice the number of park visitors dressed in blue in these two shots? (Speculation on this later as well).

jw6

jw9

Going back to the monorail, the seats are blue as well, though this is part of the in fiction branding of Jurassic World, given it is being run, not by InGen, but by Masrani Global Corporation and they clearly use a lot of blue in their branding.

jw7

There’s also some generic BLUE IS SCIENCE and BLUE IS TECHNOLOGY in the following two shots:

jw14

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Also Chris Pratt wearing blue is once again part of Masrani branding.

Here’s some shots from a Lab in the Jurassic World trailer:

Look at that teal and orange.

Look at that teal and orange.

Blue and Orange here too. Also eggs.

Teal and Orange here too. Also eggs.

And let us compare it to a scene from the lab in Jurassic Park:

There's even eggs in this one too!

There’s even eggs in this one too!

Notice, the blue in this shot is coming from the fill lights and Sam Neill’s shirt, rather than through aggressive colour correction. It probably is a product of its time, given that Colour timing was a lot harder before prints could be scanned and then digitally manipulated. That said, they still could have used blue gels on the lights and a blue filter on the camera if they wanted more blue. Which they didn’t.

SPECULATION TIME

With regard to the first shot I posted, the one really strong non blue element in the scene is the children’s mother. During this part of the trailer she is giving the younger child a kind of pep talk, hyping him up for the trip to Jurassic World while his older brother stares uncaringly into the distance and his father stands as a smiling observer. The fact that she is wearing red already makes her stand out from everything else in the frame and gives her a sense of importance, visually, which seems to be echoed in what we see of her relationship with her younger son. Red is a warm colour in an otherwise cold and sterile looking environment, and from that one can infer that she is quite protective, and very warm towards her children.

As for the remainder of the shots, what I have to go off of is Colin Trevorrow mentioning that this movie takes place well into Jurassic World’s existence, and that the park has existed long enough that just seeing Dinosaurs isn’t exciting the public as much. I’m wondering if there’s some deliberate visual story telling going on with the blue clothing there. Blue being a cold colour matching the cold reaction of the visitors. That said, there are a lot of visitors at the park during the trailer and they do seem to be enjoying the attractions. I’m not entirely sure if it was made public that the D-Rex was developed and bred, or whether the D-Rex was actually bred to drive up interest in the park again, so really this talk about visitors dressed in blue visually signifying the cooled down public reception of Jurassic World is pretty flimsy based on what I have to go off.

Really I don’t have a particularly satisfying answer to why there are so many people wearing blue, adding to the already overabundant blue in the movie. I mean, the Jurassic World and Masrani Corporation branding is blue enough. It’s kind of distracting, and really odd to have such an aggressively blue looking movie, especially compared to its predecessors.

interstellar

I went into Interstellar with mixed feelings. Prior to watching it, I had heard things ranging from Interstellar captured the spirit and feel of old hard science fiction novels (for ill and good), that the sound mixing was abysmal, and that the film was initially a Spielberg project that fell to Nolan to direct and ultimately fell apart in the home stretch as a result.

Ultimately, I think my feelings on the film can be summed up with the following:

“Saw interstellar. It wasn’t good or bad, but mostly bad.”

I enjoyed my experience looking at the film more than I did engaging with or listening to it.

Nolan works best at creating films that misdirect and create a sense of mystery. His movies seem to be vacuum sealed, having all sense of sentimentality sucked out before being packaged and released. We watch Memento, or The Prestige, not out of a desire to follow the emotional journeys of his protagonists. We watch to unravel the mysteries of his narratives; his protagonists serving more as tools to deliver clues and exposition than characters with emotional lives. Interstellar develops into a hard science fiction film with the promise of staying as such before evolving yet further into a meditation on humanist metaphysics and the nature of love as a thing bigger than us. This is a transition that the film, as a product of Nolan’s helming, cannot survive. Try as it might under the weight of an oppressive, and aggressively mixed Hans Zimmer score, the film cannot land its sentimental finale.

The film feels like a fusion of Solaris and 2001: A Space Odyssey by way of Contact. It started off with an extended sequence set on a dying, anti-intellectual USA, struck down by a crop jumping blight. History books have been rewritten to push students away from science and engineering and into farming in a last ditch effort to produce food for an increasingly starved human population. There are hints of desperate military activity (a military drone flying aimlessly, brief mention of the US government attempting to bomb other nations out of existence so they can focus on only feeding US mouths), but the majority of the on Earth run time is set up for ultimately underwhelming emotional through lines that will get into spoiler territory, but if you’ve seen Contact, you may guess where the film is going in the end. It is in this moment that the film also begins setting up its more humanist underpinnings, as well as making more overt allusions to 2001. Humanity is pointed in the direction of an artificially placed wormhole by an unknown, possibly alien benefactor, gravitational anomalies that communicate in Morse Code and Binary in Interstellar, and the Monoliths in 2001.

The earthbound sections of Solaris served as a test of character, barring entry to all but the most dedicated. What lay in wait was a heady exploration of mankind’s interaction with itself, its neuroses, the unknown, and things much bigger than itself. In ways, Interstellar tries for much the same, while where Solaris was a sobering exploration of humanity’s inability to comprehend an intelligence that was entirely other and much vaster than it could handle, Interstellar posits in all seriousness that “Love is the one thing that transcends time and space”, that Love is a fundamental force, and that Love will direct and shape the course of human evolution. As a Spielberg project, I can imagine this would have been more successful. As a film that promises a hard science fiction romp through quantum physics and realistically rendered wormholes, it feels like a betrayal of the spirit of what preceded it.

Nolan approached the sound mix for the film in an incredibly deliberate way. He wanted the audience to experience moments in the movie as the actors in the scenes would have. This has lead to people complaining about diagetic and non-diagetic sound drowning out dialogue in an attempt to craft emotion. In the case of the diagetic sound of a space craft launch drowning out the dialogue, I can understand. However, there were moments when Hans Zimmer’s score was mixed so loud and so aggressively that it began to sound more like a wall of white noise than a film score. Nolan may have approached the film like an impressionist, but it seems like he didn’t quite understand that other films utilising impressionist sound design did not drown out the dialogue, and further did not feel the need to fill themselves with dialogue either. His supposed impressionist and “Experimental” film relies more on dialogue to fill in spaces than other such impressionist films, resulting in the problem of dialogue being drowned out in the first place. While it may not be an entirely successful film, Beyond the Black Rainbow utilises its visuals and score to create an utterly unsettling atmosphere of control and dread.

Interstellar‘s major thematic arc is the presence of Love as a fundamental force that can transcend time and space, and both Cooper (McConaughey) and Brandt (Hathaway) are motivated and guided by love to complete their mission. What comes across as a bit problematic is the film’s portrayal of this love motivated decision making. Brandt is motivated by her love for one of the initial astronauts sent to survey possible habitable worlds. She is given possibly the worst monologue in the film, and is ridiculed for even considering love as a factor in her decision making. However, Cooper keeps insisting on returning to be with his children, he lectures others on what a good parent he is, and the film goes a long way towards portraying his motivations and his love as admirable.

The film also felt weirdly episodic, as if 4 stories from a science fiction anthology were stitched into an unsatisfying whole. At 169 minutes, Interstellar is a long movie and its narrative being broken up into segments served to make the film feel longer and more disjointed than it needed to be. Editing and transition decisions near the film’s conclusion made it feel like the film was reaching a climax, before building to another climax, and then another climax, before finally coming to an end. A 3rd act twist and subsequent cross cutting between the mission and the film’s Earthbound characters served only to artificially heighten tension in an unnecessarily generic way rather than in one that foregrounded the film’s thesis about love. A section inside a tesseract reminded me so strongly of 2001’s finale that it drew me out of the experience. Of course, your mileage will vary on this.

As for what I enjoyed about Interstellar, it was really good to see a major Hollywood production make large use of miniatures (3D printed and exceptionally good looking), and being shot on film contrary to the increasing industry wide move to digital. It lent the film an appropriately old school vibe, which was kind of cool, really. The miniatures lent the film a physicality that is missing in contemporary sci-fi cinema.

The film was gorgeous to look at. The technical brilliance of the visuals alone is reason enough to watch Interstellar. A sequence involving approaching and eventually travelling through a wormhole is probably the film’s stand out, but that is not to say its other set pieces are any less visually appealing, even the ones I don’t feel landed narratively.

TARS and CASE were the best drawn characters and it was interesting to see a film explore non-humanoid robots, while addressing the concessions which would be made to allow humans to feel comfortable interacting with them. It reminded me of GERTY from Moon.

What I hope to come out of Interstellar is for Miniature use and practical effects to be utilised more frequently in Hollywood, and I hope that 3D printers will potentially make that viable again.

Notallmen/Yesallwomen, secondary trauma and relearning everything for the sake of not killing each other

All the things, all mixed up

(Hi again!  I’m basically the least consistent writer ever.  But this is on my mind and I wanted to try to write about it if I could.  Warning: I think I’m pretty frank, and also I swear a fair amount.  Also, I am writing from my perspective, not as a representative of women.  Just as a representative of me.  That said, I make the assumption that a lot of what I have experienced in the realm of sexual harassment/assault/intimidation is pretty across the board for women in my culture.  The #YesAllWomen meme resonates strongly with me).

Like most of my friends, much of the news, and many of the writers I follow, I’ve been caught up in the terrible, horrible killing spree of Elliot O Roger, his misogynist manifesto, and what this event reflects about our larger cultural reality.  And, like many (much better than me) writers and culture observers, I’ve observed…

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Gravity

Gravity is a movie that has to be seen in cinemas and in 3D if one wishes to get the best possible experience. As an active disliker of the current 3D cinema experience, I was originally sceptical. The friends I saw it with insisted, and I am glad they did. Never before have I ever seen 3D used so effectively as a dramatic device. Gravity does a lot to lend credence to the format.

There is a reason the 3D is so effective. Alfonso Cuarón (Children of Men) composes every shot of Gravity with such care and intent that it becomes so much more immersive a film than one would expect a 3D movie to be. Previous high water mark Avatar used 3D as a way to give its richly imagined world a “reach out and touch it” immediacy. Cameron painted the screen with lush visuals for the purpose of transporting the viewer to another world. He didn’t really use his camera, his 3D, or his visuals to add to the film’s narrative richness.

In Gravity, Cuarón utilises the entirety of his frame to tell his story. Events happen in the background that cause ripples that affect what happens in the foreground in sometimes catastrophic ways. Background events drive characters to perform actions. This deliberate framing makes full use of the 3D format. The added depth increases the audience’s immersion in the scene, and it is incredibly powerful to see something small happen in the distance, only to have it grow in scale and menace as it moves towards Sandra Bullock’s character, and by extension, towards the audience, in the foreground.

I can’t help but feel the affect of huge chunks of broken machinery careening towards the camera would be dampened by a 2D screening.

The attention to visual story telling extends to the way the characters interact. There isn’t much in the way of character development, and the screenplay spends little time in establishing them before all hell breaks loose. However, characterisation is strengthened by the way the characters act more than by what they say. A particular scene involves George Clooney’s character attempting to calm another down as he tows them across space. The dialogue in this scene feels forced. Based purely on what is said, what is meant to be a poignant scene that sets up an entire character arc would feel flat. Being in a space suit, Clooney cannot directly look behind him, and instead gives a concerned glance into a mirror attached to his arm, while maintaining his cool tone of voice. It is a tiny moment, but one that breathes personality into a character the way the words they say could not.

Cuarón’s previous film, Children of Men, is the more thematically rich film, with a much more meaty narrative. It also boasted some very impressive sound design and cinematography. However, the technical intelligence on show in Children of Men is nothing compared to what is to be found in Gravity. Being freed from the constraints of terrestrial, practical film making, Cuarón orchestrates some of the most amazing long take shots I’ve ever seen. Additionally, Cuarón often frames the audience as part of the action. Often during some of the most dazzling moments, the film cuts to a first person point of view shot of Bullock’s character. It is us and not just Bullock trapped in an impossible situation. It is us fighting for life in an alien, incredibly hostile environment. And it is us who experience the majesty of the images Cuarón subjects us to. We are participants in the action rather than passive observers.

The sound design is equally impressive. Space in Gravity is soundless, and this soundlessness is played for maximum tension. Collisions occur silently in the background while characters remain oblivious, focusing on more immediate concerns. It is haunting to see such large scale destruction without hearing it. Positional audio is also incredibly well utilised. This is particularly noticeable in the film’s opening, when we see the earth and hear a voice in the rear right. The voice slowly moves towards the centre and then to the left as the setting of the film slowly drifts into view. It speaks to the incredible immersive quality of good sound design when you are given a sense of your place in the scene before seeing any of the principle players.

Cuarón played with diegetic and non-diegetic sound in Children of Men. An early series of scenes features the main character standing next to an explosion and a secondary character taunting him about a ringing in his ears. The very next scene makes it obvious to the viewer that ever since the explosion, a ringing simulating tinnitus was part of the soundscape of the movie, and this ringing continues for another couple of scenes. This experimentation continues in Gravity. Sound will often, and deliberately cut in and out, whether it is diegetic or not. During sections of Gravity, when a character is expected not to be able to hear anything, all sound, including the film’s score, drops out, only to reappear when the character is expected to be able to hear again. It’s another technique that Cuarón uses to not just frame his characters within the scene, but the audience.

Away from the technical side of things, the screenplay isn’t great, but is light and has enough character to provide some laughs and get the audience rooting for Gravity’s characters. The performances are amazing, and both Clooney and Bullock excel in their roles.

The film moves at a brisk pace and is over in under 90 minutes. It definitely does not overstay its welcome, a problem I seem to be noticing with more and more of its contemporaries. It is a movie that knows it has not earned 2 and a half hours, and so does not try to be 2 and a half hours long.

I found Gravity to be the most intelligently staged film I have seen in a long time. It’s not weighty in its themes, but is a show of pure film making talent. It is also a film that concerns itself with telling a story and ratcheting up tension above being scientifically accurate. While it’s depiction of a Kessler syndrome is chilling, the actions undertaken in the film are impossible given the orbits and locations of the places the characters visit in their journey towards salvation.

A suspension of disbelief is strongly advised.

I found it a case where the film was so well made and so exciting, that real life implausibility was of little concern. I found myself in a similar situation with a particular sequence in Jurassic Park. The sequence in question was staged with such skill at building tension and excitement, that the discrepancy in the height of the T-rex pit when the car is eventually pushed over the edge was inconsequential. There are times when one shouldn’t let fact get in the way of enjoying incredibly well made fiction.

SPOILERS FROM HERE ON IN

I do believe that something has been made of the fact that Bullock’s character is made to appear incompetent and reliant on the men in the movie to keep her alive. While this is true to an extent, it is moderated by context. Bullock’s character of Dr Stone is a civilian noted as mission specialist. She is on the mission because she has specialist understanding of the upgrades being done on Hubble. She was not an astronaut, she was not in the airforce, and she was given very minimal training (six months) in preparation for her mission. She is a medical doctor, a profession not generally known to be comprised of incompetent or unintelligent people. In fact, the entire mission required her to be there in space making very specific upgrades to Hubble, based on her research into medical technology.

Clooney’s character, on the other hand, is a seasoned Astronaut who has conducted a number of space walks. It is to be expected that if something were to go wrong, Clooney would be the one to remain calm, while Bullock would panic, having never been in that situation before.

Throughout the rest of the film, Bullock shows a level of resourcefulness and quick thinking that ultimately gets her back to earth in one piece. Had she been a truly incompetent character, she would not have been able to manage piloting a craft with controls labelled in Chinese. She would have died off before getting to that point.

On the other hand, there is the low oxygen hallucination scene where Clooney returns to magically explain to Bullock how to get out of her situation. This scene can be read as problematic, where even in death, the male character is required to move the action forward for the hopelessly disheartened female character. I will not begrudge anyone for viewing this seen as such. It was a point in the film, where just for a moment, Bullock was taken from being resourceful and quick thinking back to being reliant on a man. It was a bit jarring and undercuts her development into a powerful agent free from male intervention.

I tried rationalising this through the use of psychological schemas, but I was unhappy with the outcome of the exercise as it was still problematic. I shall explain the thought process for those interested.

Schema are mental frameworks used by individuals to reduce the amount of information the brain is required to process in day to day life. You can think of a schema as a script. You have a specific schema for ordering pizza, for example. You know what the transaction involves, and you act it out in accordance to the schema, or script, contained in your mind.

Applying this to the mission depicted in the movie, it is fair to say that Bullock’s character would develop a schema that had Clooney, as commander of the mission, being the source of information about what to do in emergencies. Thus, when low on oxygen, and with higher level cognitive functions presumably close to shutting down, her brain resorted to her schema related to this particular mission: New survival information will come from a commander as a commander is naturally more knowledgeable about what to do in this situation. This lead to the hallucination of Clooney that facilitated Bullock’s brain in making her aware that she herself knew of a solution to her current predicament. Ultimately, it was her own ingenuity that saved her life, but filtered through her schema that told her she should expect survival advice to come from a more experienced source.

All well and good until you realise Clooney is still a man! Her brain’s shorthand for the context of the mission involved a man being in a position of power over her, thus it is still a problematic scene.

So much for that fix, eh?