Showing posts with label Duncan Jones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Duncan Jones. Show all posts


WHayes and I are discussing Duncan Jones' "Moon" (2009) this week, so be sure to check out both of our previously posted dueling film reviews from before the weekend.

It seems to me that WHayes is too quick to call "Moon" a work of "pastiche"--a hodge-podge or imitative genre of art. Instead, I think the film should be viewed from the standpoint of intertextuality, which means that rather than being a patchwork of copies, it is art created from other art, in response.

Take Gertie's voice for example. Kevin Spacey does an excellent job of invoking HAL from "2001, A Space Odyssey," which gave me an immediate sense of the creepy evil robot which will work to undermine humanity. Think of the command center robot from "WALL-E," named simply AUTO, which evokes the same creepy underminer image, and in this case, does indeed work to undermine the captain and keep the humans from going back to Earth.

But instead of taking that concept in patchwork, "Moon" uses Gertie's evocation to twist our expectations so that his turning out to be on Sam's side is a surprise. In this way, the film's use of intertextuality as a lens rather than a copied part is artistic and fresh, rather than simply a tired re-creation.

WHayes, there's a difference between artists ripping each other off and on artist using an existing work of art to enhance and enrich his own art. There are simply too many differences in the message of "Moon" from those in "2001" and "High Noon" and the others.

What's more, instead of writing "Moon" off as pastiche, viewing it from the intertextual angle allows us to get over ourselves as reviewers and not somehow feel guilty for liking it. It's a hell of a film, really. Not perfect, but what really is?

Well, sir (not using the term lightly), the time has come for smack to be laid down, and I first and foremost wanted to congratulate you on completely missing that day in Dr. Lerner's Film Music lecture (oh yes, people, we have history) where he discussed Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest. I say this because I was expecting you to out Jones's use of technology as the giant, stained, monochrome MacGuffin that it was.


While I agree with your observations concerning Sam's isolation at the hands (or buttons, as it were) of his electronic referees, I'm gonna put myself out there and say that it does not, and never did matter how shitty his technology got, because our focus was always supposed to be on Sam's journey toward the end of his tolerance for company lies.

In fact, the his technology problems should have been worse to further drive that point home. How much more frustrating would it have been if 50% of the time he couldn't even communicate with Gertie normally, like if the robot's language processor started wigging out, and he could only communicate in inflected musical notes? Because really, how impractical is the Han-Chewie/Luke-R2 relationship? I'd wanna punch that damn droid in the face after a while.

In the bigger picture, the extra troubles would give the audience further insight into just how much Sam had to tolerate living up there, in addition to provoking us to wonder just how much more abuse he would allow.

And in terms of initial practicality, why wouldn't the company make the base a one-man/one-droid operation? Theoretically, Gertie could have had most of the base functions on autopilot; Sam wouldn't have even had to touch most things beside his refrigerator. Something a little heavy to move? No problem. He would've been working with 4 times the normal strength and stamina of a normal human, thanks to the Moon's low gravity, but that's just nerd minutia.

What say ye?


Hello friends,


This week, JDub and I are duking it out over Duncan Jones' Moon, starring Sam Rockwell as a lonely astronaut trying to keep sane (and alive) on the final days of his three year term mining Helium 3 residue from moon rocks. If there was any consensus amongst the sci-fi bloggers this summer, it was that Jones' directorial debut could potentially be both a brilliant stand-alone film, as well as an amazing homage to major sci-fi benchmarks which preceded it.


While "Moon" wasn't the self-referential game of Where's Waldo? that, say, Wes Craven's "Scream" was, it kowtows pretty hard to the genre that fostered it. Jones' big three influences, of course, are "High Noon" (1952), "Outland" (1981), and "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968). I'll pair "Outland" with "High Noon," since its story of a mining colony marshall out to round a posse before the big killers arrive is effectively just High Noon in Space. "2001" hangs heavy in the robot Gertie, the AI-gifted superintendent a la HAL 9000.


"Moon" largely succeeds at all its goals. Rockwell's performance is solid, and Jones does wonders with his sub-indie budget and attention to pacing. The real question for me, then, is why does Moon get so much love if it pulls so heavily from the genre parts bin? In the decade of really, truly shitty parodies (Meet the Spartans), remakes (Fame), and "re-imaginings" (Transformers 1 and 2...shit), should this pastiche get a pass?


Artists rip each other off all the time. Most people know about Monet vs. Manet, and literary critic Harold Bloom explicitly advocates in his essay "The Anxiety of Influence" that if you see something that inspires you, then give nary a second thought to unoriginality:


"weaker talents idealize; figures capable of imagination appropriate for themselves."

Translation: take that shit.



I'm not denying "Moon" its status as a great film. I love the damn thing, and I'm going out for the DVD as soon as its available, but what if -- playing devil's advocate -- this is what we've been afraid of this whole time? If the indies could find a way to do a pastiche so well, what happens when Hollywood finally does? Then they'll truly give up any desire to create new and original product. Shit, even "Avatar" -- James Cameron's magnum opus, "the likes of which we've never seen before" -- reeks of "Fern Gully." Maybe we have a moral obligation to ignore "Moon" from this point forward, if only to guarantee our children have a future before the silver screen that isn't dripping with 3D CGIgasms that clearly just photocopy Pixar movies (hey, Dreamworks), minus the wit, humor, heart, and quality?


What's a man to do?


Having premiered at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival, director Duncan Jones' "Moon" is an interesting type of SciFi/Thriller. The exotic moonscape setting and futuristic technology at the base play second fiddle to the intense introspective drama of the lead character, Sam Bell as played by Sam Rockwell of "Frost/Nixon" and "Choke."

As the only human staff present on a moon base which harvests 75% of the world's clean energy, Sam Bell is dependent upon Gertie, his robot companion, to fulfill most of his duties and for a source of companionship. Using Kevin Spacey as the voice of Gertie clearly invokes "2001, A Space Odyssey's" HAL, which allows for quite a deft misdirection. I felt myself waiting for this creepy-voiced robot named Gertie to turn out to be evil and ruin things for Sam. But in a twist I certainly wasn't expecting, Gertie became a willing and faithful accomplice in Sam's effort to escape the base.

There is much to say about the film's portrayal of the personal isolation Sam feels due to being alone on the moon. It's more than just the distance, time, or solitude: in fact, the technology which surrounds Sam and makes his life on the moon possible is, I would argue, the main source of his isolation--especially his isolation from himself.

As Sam lives out his three year contract at the lunar base, he communicates with Earth regularly. But because of technical difficulties with the satellite in lunar orbit, he is forced to record his messages before sending, and all replies from Earth must be recorded as well. This lack of live, real-time communication provides one layer of isolation, but Sam seems to find just enough human interaction in the recorded messages from his wife to get by.

It is not until the accident about two weeks before his scheduled return to Earth that Sam recognizes the full extent of his solitude. Having been saved from exposure to the vacuum of space by his own clone, Sam turns to Gertie (a piece of technology) asking for answers, but is instead met with deflection and refusal. At first, his own clone won't even talk to him either.

In desperation, he takes a lunar rover outside of the base's radius of interference and, turning to another piece of technology, tries to contact his wife and young daughter. Instead of reaching his wife, Sam reaches his daughter, who is now 15 years old and who also explains that her mother has since passed. Rather than lessening his apparent isolation, the phone call only serves to make clear to Sam just how isolated he's been all along.

There are clear parallels between this technological isolation and the pitfalls of using a machine as an intermediary for human emotional connection.

With "Moon," the technology is used deliberately to keep Sam in isolation, and to keep him blissfully ignorant of it all. The company which owns the lunar base has clearly gone to a great deal of trouble to construct a three-year life for each successive Sam Clone, implanting false memories of a family on Earth, jamming the lunar satellite to prohibit live transmissions, and having Gertie knowingly watch over it all.

With things like online social networking however, the goal is always to lessen someones isolation from society by providing a means for instant communication and exchange of information over any distance. Again, it is clear that things like Facebook and MySpace are quite useful for keeping in touch over long distances, but when these services are allowed to stand in for actual face-to-face human interaction, the kind of technological isolation Sam Bell experiences begins to creep into our lives.

On the subject of music in "Moon," I can say that I was very excited to hear more of Clint Mansell's film scoring work after becoming such a fan of his soundtrack to "Requiem for a Dream." Mansell's score for "Moon" did an impressive job of combining traditional, organically melodic piano lines with the classic dystopic futuristic screeching sound effects that seem to represent the film's struggle between the organic human and the technological machine.

However, other parts of Mansell's score deliver exactly the sort of pseudo-angelic tone clusters and minimalism we have all come to associate with film and film music depictions of space and space travel (think the very beginning of the intro to "Star Trek: The Next Generation"). I think Mansell could certainly have thought a bit more outside of the music box. Perhaps he could have used the same kind of post modern self-referential irony that Gertie's creepy voice and clear reference to "2001, A Space Odyssey's" evil HAL enriches the revelation that Gertie is in fact most interested in being helpful to Sam rather than a hindrance.

I also have this problem with the film's premise: it seems to me that no organization would ever create a base of operations, especially on the moon, which is staffed by only one person--clone or not. This point is crucial to the drama of the film, however, and it causes the word "contrived" to come to my mind.

In all, however, "Moon" is an exceptionally acted, beautifully shot and edited, and thoughtfully conceived film. Sam Rockwell's mostly solo performance is very compelling, the director's skill shows through, and Mansell's score is powerful as expected.

Stay tuned for my comments on WHayes' review and his on mine this time Monday.


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