In District 9, South African writer/director Neill Blomkamp reimagined apartheid through the dystopian lens of segregated alien shrimp. Elysium carries a similar politically charged premise -- the rich and powerful live on Elysium, a utopian floating space station, as the poor, sick, and disenfranchised slum it out on the now polluted and overpopulated Earth. But Elysium is no District 9. For any other director, this would not be a slight; but for someone as talented and genuinely interested in humanity as Blomkamp is, this can’t be seen as anything but a letdown.
Is the premise meant to elicit America’s battle against illegal immigrants? Is it meant to echo the 99% and their wishful rise to overthrow the 1%? Is it meant to justify socialism -- or at least, a supremely broad definition of it -- wherein all citizens share power and resources equally, regardless of class, wealth, or prestige? The movie seems to plant these questions early on as Max, an ex-convict working a minimum wage job, is thrust into a quest to not just save his own life, but everyone’s lives on Earth. But the film also seems to completely abandon any and all commentary on class, politics, economics, or humanity by its grand action-packed third act -- a trap that has sadly ensnared almost every single summer blockbuster this year.
There is a jarring jump in narrative purpose and scope in Elysium. Recently, Damon Lindelof, fan-boy punching bag screenwriter for Lost, Star Trek, and Prometheus, spoke about the Hollywood system of screenwriting. Regardless of my personal thoughts on Lindelof, he made some very interesting, almost surprisingly honest, points:
1) But ultimately I do feel—even as a purveyor of it—slightly turned off by this destruction porn that has emerged and become very bold-faced this past summer … It’s hard not to do it, especially because a movie, if properly executed, feels like it’s escalating.
2) Once you spend more than $100 million on a movie, you have to save the world … And when you start there, and basically say, I have to construct a MacGuffin based on if they shut off this, or they close this portal, or they deactivate this bomb, or they come up with this cure, it will save the world—you are very limited in terms of how you execute that.
3) It’s almost impossible to, for example, not have a final set piece where the fate of the free world is at stake. You basically work your way backward and say, ‘Well, the Avengers aren’t going to save Guam, they’ve got to save the world.’ Did Star Trek Into Darkness need to have a gigantic starship crashing into San Francisco? I’ll never know. But it sure felt like it did.
There is a jarring jump in narrative purpose and scope in Elysium. Recently, Damon Lindelof, fan-boy punching bag screenwriter for Lost, Star Trek, and Prometheus, spoke about the Hollywood system of screenwriting. Regardless of my personal thoughts on Lindelof, he made some very interesting, almost surprisingly honest, points:
1) But ultimately I do feel—even as a purveyor of it—slightly turned off by this destruction porn that has emerged and become very bold-faced this past summer … It’s hard not to do it, especially because a movie, if properly executed, feels like it’s escalating.
2) Once you spend more than $100 million on a movie, you have to save the world … And when you start there, and basically say, I have to construct a MacGuffin based on if they shut off this, or they close this portal, or they deactivate this bomb, or they come up with this cure, it will save the world—you are very limited in terms of how you execute that.
3) It’s almost impossible to, for example, not have a final set piece where the fate of the free world is at stake. You basically work your way backward and say, ‘Well, the Avengers aren’t going to save Guam, they’ve got to save the world.’ Did Star Trek Into Darkness need to have a gigantic starship crashing into San Francisco? I’ll never know. But it sure felt like it did.
I could imagine -- based on nothing but my own personal conjecture and crazed hypothesizing -- that the first draft of Elysium went something more like this: an average, working class man goes on a journey to save himself as the overpopulated and ruthless societies on Earth have instilled a sense of animalistic survival instincts in humanity. His selfish journey slowly evolves to breaking down class barriers and allowing all Earthlings a chance at safety, security, and happiness. Along the way, I believe studio executives noted that Max, the protagonist, can’t simply be an “average” man. He has to be something more. So after a few redrafts, the final film now contains a Nun telling a young Max in ethereal flashbacks that he was born for greatness, that he was preordained to be the one. Later on, Max’s black market accomplice also notes that he could “save them all.” That’s a lot of pressure to put on poor old car-stealing, factory-working Max. But I suppose we all want a hero who is greater than the average Joe.
I also imagine studio notes pointed out that Max needs a female interest. Or better yet, give him a female love interest and a child (with terminal leukemia no less) to protect. This automatically humanizes Max and makes the audience sympathize with him because who doesn't want to love a beautiful woman and protect innocent children? The woman must know Max intimately so let’s introduce them in sepia-toned childhood flashbacks that tug at our heartstrings: “Frey and Max forever.” Then, give the cute child a heartwarming monologue about a hippo and meerkat to really make us feel the sympathy. Emotions successfully installed. Uploading to audience.
I point out these standard storytelling tropes not to mock the film -- it actually does very well with what it’s given, easily making it one of the better summer films of 2013. I mention this only to note the seemingly inverse relationship between provocative storytelling and ballooning budgets. It seems to me that for any film that promises eye-catching spectacle, the price is not simply a few million dollars in CGI, but the loss of any and all characterizations beyond a cardboard stereotype. Where’s the personality? Where’s the hero? Where’s the sole voice that will stir others to action, that will provoke change in the world?
At first glance, I thought Elysium would be too similar to Blomkamp’s District 9, rehashing a story of a man slowly turning non-human and in the process, losing his own humanity. On that front, I was wrong -- Elysium is not quite the “white guilt” role reversal tale I predicted. However, I couldn’t spoil this movie if I tried; it practically spoils itself. For a story about a man strapped to a biotechnical suit of armor, it seems almost ironic that the film feels mechanical, its every plot turn and character beat telegraphed from a mile away. It does so very little with so very much. But I guess I’ll take little over nothing.
I also imagine studio notes pointed out that Max needs a female interest. Or better yet, give him a female love interest and a child (with terminal leukemia no less) to protect. This automatically humanizes Max and makes the audience sympathize with him because who doesn't want to love a beautiful woman and protect innocent children? The woman must know Max intimately so let’s introduce them in sepia-toned childhood flashbacks that tug at our heartstrings: “Frey and Max forever.” Then, give the cute child a heartwarming monologue about a hippo and meerkat to really make us feel the sympathy. Emotions successfully installed. Uploading to audience.
I point out these standard storytelling tropes not to mock the film -- it actually does very well with what it’s given, easily making it one of the better summer films of 2013. I mention this only to note the seemingly inverse relationship between provocative storytelling and ballooning budgets. It seems to me that for any film that promises eye-catching spectacle, the price is not simply a few million dollars in CGI, but the loss of any and all characterizations beyond a cardboard stereotype. Where’s the personality? Where’s the hero? Where’s the sole voice that will stir others to action, that will provoke change in the world?
At first glance, I thought Elysium would be too similar to Blomkamp’s District 9, rehashing a story of a man slowly turning non-human and in the process, losing his own humanity. On that front, I was wrong -- Elysium is not quite the “white guilt” role reversal tale I predicted. However, I couldn’t spoil this movie if I tried; it practically spoils itself. For a story about a man strapped to a biotechnical suit of armor, it seems almost ironic that the film feels mechanical, its every plot turn and character beat telegraphed from a mile away. It does so very little with so very much. But I guess I’ll take little over nothing.
