Coming This Week

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I really don’t intend half of my themes. Honest. It just happens. At least one week a month, I’m finding that the stars align and I have a bunch of things that just keep coming up in everything I watch. And this week, it was bullshit’s turn.

It’s strong this week.

This week, we’re going to call shenanigans on the personal brand of b.s. brought to us by not one, but two different films. We’ll take a look at the dangers of kidding yourself in France’s Haute Tension (High Tension), as well as just how much power Loc-Nar has (or doesn’t have) in Heavy Metal. We’ll round out the week with a recommendation for a movie that scared the bejeebus out of me (hint: don’t watch it alone). So check your bullshit at the door this week. It’s going to be emotional.

Saturday Shorts: Doll Face

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I selected Colin Campbell’s 2012 short Doll Face based on a fact of my childhood: my beloved grandfather used to call me that. Given, he also used to call me Claudette because he thought I looked like Claudette Colbert, but the name has always been special to me. That was what caused me to get interested in this short, which I’d like to share here. It’s a little longer than some of our two-minute fare; this one clocks in around seven minutes. Still not a bad time investment.

Click here for Doll Face.

I’ll be honest: I have some plot issues with this short film. There are a lot of unanswered questions, and they don’t all add up. Why does the doll show up at the house? Is she there to lure people to the shop to satisfy bloodlust, and at that, whose bloodlust? Who is her true boss? Is she trying to break a vicious cycle? Does she really just want a bra that fits at the end of the day? We’ll never know. However, the lighting and the music are good, managing to keep things tense as it moves along. Sometimes, you don’t need perfect. Some days, you just need creepy.

Happy Saturday.

Weekend Movies: Five Reasons to Watch Evolution

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This week has been pretty grim and serious in terms of our subject matter, so we’re going to lighten things up a bit. By “we,” I mean me and the gremlin in my pocket (his name is Bob. He’s good people. For the record, it’s an inside joke with some friends. I promise.). Bob and I decided that we needed something fun. Something wacky. Something to help you good people unwind. The recommendation this week will send you over to iTunes or Google Play to rent Ivan Reitman’s 2001 comedy Evolution. Here are five reasons to watch it this weekend.

Bob approves.

 

#1 – The defense of community college

Characters with something to prove are nothing new in comedies. A scientist that messed up in the military? Priceless potential for reminders of past wrong-doing and redemption. It’s sad to think that David Duchovny’s Ira Kane considers community college a punishment, as I know many people that would love the opportunity to teach at the college level, and the students work really hard. Still, it’s great to see a character from a more privileged background that grows to defend his humble surroundings, even if he doesn’t like them at first.

#2 – Government screw-ups

Oh, so much to say here. The government containment measures that fail. The disastrous attempts at a biochemical warfare vaccination. The insults lobbed at each other and the backstabbing. That people this supposedly in-the-know are this careless and stupid is something universal to all goverments. We can all relate to the fact that these morons can’t seem to do anything right, and that this incompetence means that the world is in danger. Ah, the joys of a shared experience.

#3 – Harry Phineas Block

Orlando Jones is funny as shit in this movie. The geologist that really just wants to coach women’s olleyball wouldn’t have been played by anyone else. Between the deadpan delivery of smart ass lines (“I seen this movie, the black dude dies first”) and the screaming, he’s wonderful. His playful moan of, “Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” will forever haunt my dreams. Not to mention my favorite line ever: “There’s always time for lubricant!” Yes, Harry. There is always time for lubricant.

Always time for lubricant.

 

#4 – Aliens

I’m a firm believer in extraterrestrial life. Look around you: there has got to be something more intelligent but there. So yes, I’m outing myself as a believer. Any film that deals with alien life is endeared to me as a result. The aliens in this film aren’t pretty or friendly, which I like. They also don’t have their basis in carbon, which I’ve wondered about frequently. Just because it’s not carbon-based doesn’t mean it’s not capable of life. Always be open to the possibilities.

#5 – Let’s go to the mall

This is my favorite scene of the whole thing. Between a veiled Evil Dead reference (shotguns in a department store!) and Seann William Scott singing, I totally love this sequence. It’s reason alone to watch it.

“Ca-caw….”

 

The science may not be the strongest, but it’s good for a laugh. Check it out this weekend and just giggle.

Pretty Lady: Salvation and Beauty in Mad Max: Fury Road

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One of the larger talking points of Mad Max: Fury Road has been the masculinity of Charlize Theron’s Imperator Furiosa. While the arguments surrounding these points about the character are valid, one thing did manage to catch my eye and stick with me more so than these aspects. Something that’s easy to miss, because it happens so early. Something that only happens for about a minute. Something that’s fucking offensive. I’m talking about the blink-and-you-miss-it notion that only the beautiful women have merit that render them precious, placing value on beauty over personal worth.

Key word here: lovely.

 

The scene is fairly short: a shot of women with pumps hooked up to their breasts, expressing milk. The introductory shot of this scene, though, is telling without having to utter dialogue in reference to it. Notice how we don’t get any facial close-ups: no one has a lovely face with perfect makeup. No one has meticulously styled hair. We are presented with overweight women, rolls of flesh billowing over their skirts, lounging idly in their chairs as they are pumping. Considering that Hollywood has a massive problem with acknowledging a body type that’s simultaneously above a size 4 AND attractive, and we’re getting hammered over the head that these women are not to be found beautiful or desirable. The close-ups we do get are of their breasts, and even then, it’s for the purpose of generating milk, a consumable good. These women are producing a product. Their purpose is not sexual, and therefore, we are not afforded the opportunity to find them attractive; in fact, pains are taken to make them less of people and more on the level of dairy cattle. The demeanors they are given does not help this cause any: they look bored and disinterested in the world around them, and no one seems to want to escape. No one moves a muscle when the alarm is raised over Furiosa deviating from her assigned route: each woman is complacent, immobile and, more damning, stripped of attractiveness. What we gather from this is that it’s somehow okay that these women are being treated this way. After all, these women are not being sexually violated: they’re producing milk, and no one is trying to rape them. Therefore, it’s okay to just leave them to lactate in their comfy chairs. Like it or not, this film presents these women not as women, but as a resource, and the perception of their energy level and physical attractiveness renders them nothing more than livestock. And at this point, no one is breaking their ass to try to fight for the rights of the cattle, despite that they’re people and don’t deserve to be either viewed or treated that way.

 

Yeah, don’t hurt yourself trying to save the overweight chick.

The wives, by contrast, are viewed in a much different fashion. Their physical appearance is far different: each woman has long, flowing hair (save for Toast) and wears a white outfit. These outfits accentuate the breasts and belly, which we’re meant to notice: these are Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne)’s “prized breeders,” and as such, their value is attributed to their sexual attractiveness. These areas are associated with pregnancy; they are the visual marker of biological fitness to carry on genes. We get shots of these body parts because we’re programmed to find it enticing. It doesn’t stop there: when Furiosa meets up with the surivors of her childhood home, they observe of the women, “Where did you find such creatures? So soft!” and “This one has all her teeth!” We are are meant view them as beautiful; these are lovely, exceptional women, and as such, they are stripped of free will by a tyrant that wants to use them for sex and breeding. We see their struggle defined in a more acute fashion: they are kept in a vault by Joe, and the walls of said vault are decorated with the phrase, “We are not things.” We’re made to feel that they are being used, and this is confirmed when we first meet the group: they are stripping off chastity belts, which are branded with Joe’s logo and toothed around the vaginal opening. That they wear white identifies them as the role of the bride, who exists purely for his sexual purposes – they need to maintain sexual purity in order for the lineage to avoid questioning, and to enforce a notion that they are property. Our first reaction is that we want them to rebel against that role. After all, women don’t like being forced into childbearing. A woman being raped by a creepy old man? Yeah, not on the audience fun list. We want them to be rescued; no one deserves that life.

So how does this tie into the short scene? Simple: this film implies that the only women worth saving are the beautiful ones that can have babies. While it’s noble that the wives need to be saved – and I am not going to argue that these women don’t deserve rescuing, because anyone who is being kept against her will, raped and forced to carry the product of said rape to term deserves to be liberated from that – this film completely neglects that other women are being oppressed as well. No one is hurting him or herself to end the oppression of the wet nurses (for lack of a better term). No one has slapped chastity belts on them and demanded sexual purity. No one is scrawling revolutionary statements on walls behind them in the milking station. No one blows up a convoy in their name. Hell, Furiosa doesn’t even take a token one with her – the only thing that’s brought is a milk supply, identified as “mother’s milk.” We don’t even get to see one get treated as a human being that deserves freedom. Even the wives that are being oppressed don’t seem to grasp that they’re not the only ones, and that there are struggles outside of their own experiences. As an audience, we are directed away from these lactating women. We don’t even sexualize their breasts: they’re there for milk production, and as such, we can just forget about the fact that they’re human beings hooked up to machines and being exploited. And whether we want to admit it or not, this film didn’t present a pretty damsel in distress in this particular circumstance, so we’re not invested in the plight of these women. It shines upon an ugly truth: cinema doesn’t view women that are deemed conventionally unattractive as worthy of salvation and equality.

 

Save the socially acceptable beauties, people.

 

Immortan Joe is told at the beginning of the film, “You cannot own a human being. Sooner or later someone pushes back.” It would have been nice if that same sentiment had extended to the women with a little more weight on their frames. Oppression isn’t just rape: it covers all aspects of social inequality. Everyone deserves to be a human being. Even the overweight woman that’s hooked up to the milk pump. You shouldn’t have to worry about being pretty enough for someone to want to help you.

All Together Now: Human Connection in 28 Days Later

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I saw Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later in the theatre, and I still remember the sense of terror I had when the characters were changing the flat tire in the tunnel. It was the first time that the concept of a fast zombie had entered into the broader consciousness, and the quality made it revolutionary. For once, we got to see something that wasn’t mindlessly trying to destroy life: we saw zombies that were properly pissed off, remnants of people that had been normal human beings that were now reduced to creatures that had to claw their way through someone in their fury. So much anger, that it begs you to question what could make people that upset. This is where 28 Days Later flies: it has a sense not only of the discontent of social life that leads to zombism, but of the interpersonal connnections necessary to survive the outbreak.

You only have to start out alone, Jim.
The introduction of the film gives us everything that is socially wrong with the world, and how our current world is enough to drive someone to the edge of acceptable anger. In the first minute, we see video images of riots, fires, shootings and brutality. These are being shown to a chimp that has been infected with a virus that is known as “rage,” which scientists are attempting to study. The rationale: “In order to cure, you must first understand.” Science has identified the feeling of intense anger as a disease, and rightfully so: anger kills people every day, and more and more people are getting angry about the world around them, from larger social issues like sexual assault to taxes to a lopsided political arena – if it’s spreading like a disease, why not find a cure? The problem with this lies within the ethical quandry of attempting to study and aid, which leads to even more anger at a harsh truth: medicine needs testing, and the grim reality is that this can’t be tested on people, so the next best bet is a chimp. The animal rights activists (and let me tell you, I was most certainly muttering, “Fucking hippies,” to myself during the tunnel scene) do have good intentions: they want to stop the animals from being tortured, which is understandable and noble. Nothing on this earth should be held captive and tormented. However, it’s their anger at this system that causes a type of hysterical blindness to an explicit warning from a stranger that’s designed to keep them safe: even then they’re told of the danger contained within the saliva and blood of the chimps, they still set the infected chimp free. It’s anger at the system that effectively causes the identified disease to spread to a much larger populace, effectively damning the world to their own hatred of an unfair process.
Dammit, why wouldn’t they listen?!
This leaves the strongest individuals standing, who then band together in hopes of survival; however, mere survival is not enough if it lacks human connection. When we first meet Selena (Naomie Harris), she’s survived, but she is a hardened individual: she states that she would kill an infected companion in “a heartbeat,” and lets Jim (Cillian Murphy, whom I adore in every way) know in no uncertain terms that she would leave him behind if he hindered her ability to get away from the infected. Selena makes good on this will to survive, as evidenced when she kills Mark (Noah Huntley) without a second thought after he is infected; the arc of the character means that she needs to learn how to re-adapt to human connection, as emotional attachment is considered a hinderance to survival. This detachment isn’t present in just her: Major West (Christopher Eccleston) has it as well, which draws a disturbing parallel between the two characters. West tells Jim, “I promised [my soldiers] women” because the men were losing hope. “Women mean a future,” he insists, revealing the intent to let a group of men rape a pair of women in order to keep them from wanting to kill themselves. Stop and think about that for a moment: in order to survive, this man is willing to let a pair of women – presumably, the mothers of a new generation – undergo physical and mental trauma in order to make sure that the group he led were able to carry on. Constant rape in exchange for life is not a life; that’s a living hell.
What truly allows the survivors of this epidemic to really get out alive are the bonds they create between human beings, proving the necessity of human emotion in order to survive. Mark shares the pain of watching his family turn into zombies, bonding with the grieving Jim, who has found his parents dead of suicide; this is the first step toward becoming part of something larger, which ultimately saves him. Jim connects with Selena through walks and talks, to the point that there is a romantic attachment on both ends. We have it pointed out to us that Hannah and Frank have each other to lean on, and they readily accept Jim and Selena into their family. And when the prospect of rape is close to being realized for Hannah (Megan Burns) and Selena, the elder woman feeds the terrified young girl pills, telling her, “I’m making you not care.” These actions render the group able to survive because they have something for which to fight. Rage is all around us; without something to hold onto, basic survival is the only thing to do. However, if the connections exist, rage can be channeled to fight for that which you love and are connected. This is evident when Jim kills the soldiers: he isn’t defending “his” women. Jim is making sure that the people he cares about are safe.
Slight hestitation: check.
When Jim first wakes up in the hospital at the beginning of the film, he’s completely naked, fully exposed in full-frontal nudity in a hospital bed. He’s completely alone, with dead parents and no friends. Jim has nothing to keep him going, not even a shred of clothes. We get a similar shot at the tail end of the film, but this time, Jim is covered up. He’s not as exposed, and he’s not hooked up to machines. This isn’t accidental. By virute of the bonds he has created, Jim has ceased to merely survive. By bonding with those around him, Jim not only lives: he thrives during his recovery from a near-fatal injury. We could all stand to meditate on this idea for a few minutes.

Coming Soon

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I had an unintentional theme for this week’s posts: the future. More specficially, how screwed we are in relationship to the future.

You have to admit, this is a fairly accurate statement.

This week, I’ll be your Tour Guide Barbie as we navigate what could be in store for us in the near future. We’ll look at the necessity of relationships in 28 Days Later, how only the pretty women get saved in Mad Max: Fury Road, and recommend a comedy that deals with life adapting to its new circumstance (hm… is there a word for that?). Buckle in. It’s going to be emotional.

Satursday Shorts: Peek a Boo

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Fun fact about me: I absolutely fucking hate opening the door when I’m home alone. I don’t mind being alone; that doesn’t bother me in the least. But ring my doorbell, and I tense right up. Doesn’t matter if it’s rain or shine. Can’t stand it. So in that vein, here’s a short film by Castet Nicholas called Peek a Boo.

Click here for Peek a Boo.

This short film excels at building tension and paranoia with minimal resources, which is commendable. At several points, I found myself tensing up, which means that the film works in terms of technique. It manages to completely tap into my irrational fear of opening the door, and let’s face it, the ending could have gone a few different ways. For all we know, the ghost was about to say, “Hey, bitch, I wanted a fucking Snickers. Don’t cheap out on me.” Maybe the lady was about to pull an equally scary face and tell that whipper snapper to get off her porch (which would have been epic). Maybe the ghost was about to let loose an amazing belch. We don’t know… but our minds automatically jump to the worst case: this woman is about to die at the hands of something that looks really creepy, all for the trouble of answering her door on Halloween.

Happy Saturday.

Weekend Movies: Five Reasons to Watch Another Earth

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I went in to Mike Cahill’s 2011 offering Another Earth right when it came out, intrigued. The concept of a second Earth suddenly appearing in the sky, as implausible as it is, tickles my science geek. The film tells the story of Rhoda (Brit Marling), who caused an accident that left John (William Mapother) in a coma while killing his wife, son and unborn child; Rhoda is adrift in the world and wants to make amends to John, so she poses as a maid after losing her nerve to say that she killed his family. Things get trickier when they start to fall for each other amidst the backdrop of a second Earth looming in the sky. This one is far more drama than scientific accuracy, but it’s a good film. Available on iTunes and GooglePlay, here are five reasons to give it a shot.

Soft spot for this one.

 

#1 – Brit Marling
It’s been a while since I watched an actor or actress and have thought to myself, “Watch this one. He/she is going to do some incredible things.” I got that feeling when I watched Brit Marling for the first time in this, and everything else I’ve seen her in reinforces this initial reaction. She demonstrated a wide range of emotions, and didn’t have to open her mouth once to over-emote. There’s something likable about her: she’s not one of those try-hard actors, pulling a trademark face or trying to look deep. She strikes me as real. The way she tells the story of the Russian cosmonaut… I want her to tell me more stories. I felt like a little kid who had someone new visiting the classroom at storytime. I hope to see more of her work in the future.

#2 – The shots

Cahill has some striking images, and a good technique. The quick cuts and fuzzy shots interspersed throughout the film give it a surreal quality, and in a good way. He’s also not afraid to get up close to his actors and go out of focus, as though we’ve put our heads right next to theirs. The result makes the film feel more intimate. He’s also not afraid to pull back so that we can get some perspective, and his eye for a shot is quite good. Some of my favorites are the shots of the second Earth in the sky with the moon. The command of color – particularly the color blue, which is my favorite – creates a shot that is beautiful and moving.

Beauty at a point of pure sorrow and solitude.

 

#3 – You want this couple to succeed

Going into this, even from the plot description, you know that this couple has some pretty harsh odds stacked against them. Killing someone’s wife and child while drunk is something that’s tough to overcome. And yet you want John and Rhoda to work. They’re compatible intellectually, and they really do help each other heal. There’s no magic, “… and I saw her from across the room,” completely gob-smacked expression. This is far more gradual, and you see where these two lean on each other; you get to see that trust being built, and those connections being forged. When you can get me to defy logic and pull for an on-screen couple, that’s something special.

#4 – A look at the driver
The audience often gets a look at the shattered life of the victim of a DWI/DUI crash; that’s not a bad thing, as the people that think it’s okay to get behind the wheel of a car completely smashed should be aware of what they can potentially do to someone. However, Cahill presents a different cautionary tale: the wrecked life of the driver that caused the accident. Rhoda goes to jail and punishes herself after she gets out. Her life is destroyed, and we get to watch someone with a promising future go through a massive depression and self-imposed exile. We watch her attempt to atone for what she’s done. The way it’s presented creates an effective punch: we like Rhoda, and we can see what this has done to her. It’s a subject that doesn’t get touched much, because we want to feel sorry for the victim, who was truly wronged. This film presents that it’s okay to look at a crappy situation and feel bad for everyone involved.

#5 – The saw

Watch this if only to watch William Mapother’s John play a saw in a lone auditorium. It’s a sticking point for me. Between the romantic gesture and the sound, it had me. I will admit this right now: for years, he was always Creepy Ethan from Lost to me. He stopped being Creepy Ethan in this film, in part because of this scene. It’s not often that you get to see your go-to baddie play someone who makes a romantic gesture that you adore.

Cannot stress enough how well this pairing works.
Again, while the science may not be that strong, it’s a good character piece that speaks to higher themes of perspective, honesty and forgiveness. Check it out.

Guilty Pleasures: Road Trip Edition

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There’s no nice way to say this: I love Road Trip. Yes, it’s dumb. Yes, it’s sexist and has some really stupid jokes and plot points. It does not stop me from loving this film. I don’t even feel that much guilt when I watch it. So in honor of it being the end of a bitterly cold winter month, here’s some of the reasons why Road Trip is a bit of a sweetheart to me.

Shouldn’t love you, but I do.
The frame story

This exchange makes the whole movie for me:

“[This building] was built in the 1600s.”

“1600s? It says 1951.”
“Yeah, that’s the address. Wise ass.”

The frame story chronicles the worst college tour ever. Or the best, if you’re a simpleton like yours truly. I know I would totally go to Ithaca if someone took the time to craft this elaborate tale (actually, Ithaca isn’t too far away from where I live, which makes this even funnier). As a result of this film, I’ve also been known to croak out, “Mooooooom?!” when something traumatic happens. Now that’s a beautiful remnant for the ages.

 

The creepy T.A.

There are some not-so-nice people involved in college instruction… okay, make that teaching in general. The more accurate term is “predatory”. Creepy teacher’s assistant Jacob (Anthony Rapp) typifies some of the crap with which college students have to contend. The stalker who threatens to flunk a rival out of class (and college) in order to be closer to the object of his obsession… that’s entirely too real for some women (and men for that matter). Rapp’s perfectly believable too.

E.L.

Seann William Scott is so great at playing a smart ass prick. He really does play a pig to perfection, and manages to do it in a way that makes you actually kind of like the character. When you wind up liking a dude you wouldn’t normally talk to, someone’s done a good job. I don’t know if anyone else does this, but for certain characters, I wonder sometimes what they’re up to years later. You totally know that E.L. is a hedge fund manager that has managed to talk his way out of at least two prison sentences.

One other thing: despite its sexism, how great is it that this character got to experience the joys of ass play? It’s often joked about because it’s unknown for most guys, or brushed aside awkwardly because there are still a lot of guys that don’t want to admit that they’ve not only tried it, but that they like it. It’s refreshing to see a male character embrace it without making gay jokes. Just remember: deep breaths, lots of lube, and a partner that knows and respects your limits.

 

He sees the light.

 

Josh’s committment

Josh (Breckin Meyer) would drive any sane girl bonkers in real life. The constant phone calls, the videos; I don’t even want to think about what else he would do. Could you picture this dude with a Skype account and GPS? Christ. I can’t even. But looking beyond that, I have to admit that it’s nice to see someone that’s actually invested in a relationship. There are some guys out there that really do want to be a part of something, and are willing to go the distance. And just like that, I kind of hate myself for defending Josh.

Kyle

I will eternally love D.J. Qualls for this role. The character has surprising depth: he goes from a timid, socially awkward chronic masturbator (and noted animal lover, in a manner of speaking) with daddy issues to a young man that can stand on his own two feet and defend himself. I’m willing to forgive the bestiality references in favor of the Atari T-shirt (which I totally need to find, because the shade of orange alone is perfect and it’s fucking Atari. Atari forever, peeps.). That he also gets with Rhonda (Mia Amber Davis) is a nice touch, too. Davis is the most gorgeous woman in this film, and out of everyone, I’m really glad that Kyle got the pretty girl (not much of an Amy Smart fan). Good things come to those who wait.

The soundtrack

The Eels. Supergrass. Twisted Sister. The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. It’s got Ween and Run DMC, for fuck’s sake! How can you not love this?!

The bus

I want to drive a bus for the blind on a road trip. Someone, please make this happen for me. I will supply the Twizzlers and Mountain Dew. It will be a magical journey.

The diner

Let this be a lesson to never, ever fuck with a waiter under any circumstances. I’ve known many wait staff and can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that those people put up with an unbelievable amount of shit. To watching someone complain about something tiny and then have food carried around in the waiter’s underwear… yeah, just be nice to your waiter. You don’t want to know some of the stories that come out of the food industry. Scrape the damn powdered sugar off yourself.

Don’t be an ass to your waiter.

 

Accomodations

A hotel run by Andy Dick. The all-black fraternity. Barry’s grandparents (heh… the Manilows…). Really, who the hell wouldn’t love to stay with Jack Manilow? Now I want blueberry pancakes.

 

Rubin (Paulo Costanzo) tells Josh at one point, “I can teach Japanese to a monkey in 46 hours. The key’s just finding a way to relate to the material.” Damned if that isn’t the perfect way to explain a propensity to teach. It’s also part of the charm. Much like Rubin’s teaching methods, it may not be perfect, but it gets the job done.

All Bets Are Off: The Laws of Robotics in Turbo Kid

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Turbo Kid filled me with a glee I have not felt in a very long time: it had cheesy, synthesizer-driven music, hokey special effects, and a great deal more heart than budget. I adored it. Aside from the retro, love song-style charm it contained, it also managed to get me thinking. More specifically, it got me thinking about the laws of robotics, and how the robots in the film seem to sidestep the rules when convenient.

Made of win.

 

To understand this, we’ve first got to break down the laws of robotics as laid out by Isaac Asimov:

 

  1. Robots can’t hurt humans, either directly or indirectly.
  2. Robots have to obey orders given by humans, unless if those orders mean that a human will be harmed.
    If this violates rule number one, it’s null and void.
  3. Robots have to keep themselves alive, unless if such an action would violate rules one and two.

Got it? Good. Onward with our show. Let’s review these one by one.

Rule # 1: Robots can’t hurt humans, either directly or indirectly.

The first one is the big one. This one goes right out the window with Zeus (Michael Ironside), who holds death matches in The Pool in order to entertain his minions. The majority of Zeus’s actions against humans are indirect: he is more than content to let Skeletron (Edwin Wright) do the dirty work for him, whether it’s cutting off Frederick (Aaron Jeffrey)’s hand or slicing and dicing The Kid (Munro Chambers)’s parents. He shoots Frederick with the intention of killing him at the climax of the film, has Bagu disembowled, and tries to kill The Kid a few different times, demonstrating his need to wipe out life that opposes him. His words match his aggressive behavior, as he tells Skeletron at one point, “Find them. Kill them. Bring me back their heads on pikes.” Pretty explicit harm to humans, even though it’s not by his hand. By all means, Zeus should not be able to do this: he should be accepting orders and working to ensure the safety of the humans, not playing King of the Water Resources. Or the role of the torturous Roman emperor, for that matter.

Zeus is the Honey Badger of the post-apocolyptic world.

 

The corruption, however, makes sense: Zeus identifies himself as a corporate companion, “designed to create and instigate corporate policy. Fashioned in the likeness of my master. He said to me, just before I bashed his head in with his own golf club, ‘Remember, you’re only a robot.’ Only a robot. Well, I’m the one standing here, not him.” If that’s not a statement on the true nature of a corporation bleeding into its product and disregarding the well-being of its customers, then I don’t know what is. That’s a fairly scathing indictment when the robotic companion of a corporate executive kills his human master and places a stranglehold on all resources for human beings in an effort to control them. It’s enough to make you wonder if this isn’t a slam against the water policies of Nestle. And yes, I’m looking right at you, Peter Brabeck-Letmathe.

 

Rule #2: Robots have to obey orders given by humans (unless if it violates the other rules)

Again, Zeus doesn’t follow this rule at all. I’m not even going to bother making a case for this one using Zeus because I’d just be rehashing the movie.The one we need to talk about, though, is Laurence Leboeuf’s Apple.

For the most part, Apple obeys everything The Kid tells her to do: she fights when she needs to, and she moves to leave his home when he asks her to do so. However, there’s a caveat to Apple’s actions that corresponds to the second law of robotics: unless if those orders mean that a human will be harmed. Let’s not forget, our good Apple (see what I did there?) beats the ever living shit out of people in The Pool. She also kills the female guard who is strangling The Kid at the climax of the film. It may seem complex, but according to the rules, Apple shouldn’t be raising her hand to harm anyone because everyone in these situations is human (save for Zeus); at the most, she should be sacrificing herself to save The Kid, not fighting and/or killing others. She could have remained within the rules and helped save The Kid by dying long before she actually bites it. Now maybe I’m having a slow day, but this seems to violate the first rule of robotics, which means that our sweet girl is a renegade robot. You can dress her up with makeup and a winsome smile, but she still hurts people, to the point of killing someone with a spike on a bike. Yes, it may be just because she’s keeping The Kid alive, but she’s still in violation of the laws of robotics because a human is a human is a human if we’re playing by the rules. As much as we like Apple, she’s just as guilty.

Rule #3: Robots have to keep themselves alive

Zeus has a good handle on this; he wants to keep going, but again, we get violation because, while he tries to defend himself from the attacks of The Kid, he still rears up and tries to kill The Kid, which violates the first rule and the third rule. It’s sort of sucky that self defense doesn’t count to keep yourself alive, but I wasn’t the one that made up the rules. Live by the sword, die by the sword. It’s a technicality that we’d overlook for someone like, say, Apple; however, it’s more apparent with the villain of the piece.

Apple’s not out of the woods on this one either. There’s a simple conversation that’s had when The Kid realizes that she’s a robot: she explains that once her heart meter is done with the last heart, she shuts down forever. After saying this, it’s important to note that The Kid is the one that goes looking for a replacement part in order to save her, which leads them to Bagu directing them to the robot graveyard. It’s The Kid that makes this effort, not her; for all intents and purposes, Apple is content to give up and die. She’s very Zen about it, and even gives a little shrug for emphasis as she smiles. For her, it’s a simple shrug of the shoulders rather than a maxim of life. As much as I hate to point it out, she’s violating these rules just as badly as Zeus.

Not entirely sure I’d trust this face.

While we’re presented with the opposite ends of the spectrum – one good, one bad – both archetypes present clear violations of Asimov’s rules. Yes, Zeus is far more harmful toward other humans, but Apple is just as deviant from the laws set forth. If going strictly by the rules, one could deduce that she is as bad as Zeus for assuming points of autonomy that could one day prove harmful. And so that is the question we’re left with: even if the deviations run along the lines of temporarily helping the good guy, should we trust something that functions outside of its nature?