Blockbusted Part 2 - Androids and Dinosaurs
Anyone
who read my last article, decrying the lack of originality in
blockbuster cinema, should not interpret it as a statement of
preference for independent cinema. I'm not going to start bleating
on about obscure French auteurs and brave new voices in moody
Scandinavian drama, or how Shane
Carruth is going to save cinema. I still love a blockbuster: one
of those films that gets your blood pumping, your eyes open that
little bit wider. Let's face it, would you rather pay what is now
bordering on a tenner to sit in the dark among a legion of
rude-to-the-point-of-offensive teenagers, and feet sticking to the
floor to watch the new Woody Allen movie, or watch Captain America
and Iron Man throw down? Be honest...
Don't
get me wrong, I love Woody Allen; few directors see the world as the
horrible Godless place that it is like Woody Allen does. But this
article isn't about introspective drama and meditations on the human
condition, as littered with zingers as they may be; no, this article
is about explosions, insane stunts, implausibly attractive women and
dinosaurs eating children. Actually, Woody...
I
participated in a conversation recently (not unheard of for a
blogger...) and it got me thinking about how I watch films and why
the medium is so important. Over the last year it has been
recommended to me several times that I invest in an Android
Box. The reason? People know I'm a cinephile and would get a lot
of use out of it, watching films for free and thereby depriving the
medium from which I derive hours of entertainment and inspiration of
much needed revenue. I don't want to get into the ethics or legality
of downloading and streaming; I lack both the knowledge and
motivation to talk about it. No, I want to talk about the experience
of watching a film. Not just a film, but a bloody great blockbuster
of a film.
I
mentioned in the last article that I went to see Jurassic Park
when I was about 12 years old. It's amazing now as it is then and
I'm the proud owner of the DVD, but somehow the experience of seeing
it now isn't the same as it was for the naïve, pre-critical
faculties 12-year-old. Maybe I'm just a cynical mid-30s keyboard
warrior. Maybe the weight of the world has long since crushed my
fragile spirit, but something has changed. The thrill of Spielberg's
masterful use of suspense. The pockets of sheer terror. The
virtuoso, almost nonchalant direction, making you love one character
and despise another with minimal characterisation, never wanes and
never gets old. What I don't get these days is the sense of awe.
Remember when you first saw those grazing brontosaurus? When Dr
Grant (Sam Neill) stood up in the jeep and removed his hat, just as
amazed as you were? When John Williams' score swelled and just owned
you? There was a freakin' dinosaur on the screen! Remember the
shiver down your spine? That, ladies and gentlemen, is cinema. That
moment of awe, that moment where you're always
12 years old. It doesn't happen on DVD.
Naturally,
I saw Jurassic
World
(Colin
Trevorrow)
this year. And I did it properly: I bought snacks and went to see it
at the pictures, and not at home via an internet stream. My home
town, Newcastle is lucky enough to have a fine independent
cinema,
but due to scheduling times I saw this at a frankly disgusting
multiplex, complete with sticky floors, horrible children and
questionable hot dogs. So in front of a stupendously huge screen, I
witnessed a blockbuster done exactly how it should be done.
Trevorrow absolutely nails what previous sequel directors Joe Johnson
and Spielberg himself failed to manage: the sense of sheer awe,
shared by us and the characters. The tracking shot taking us through
the window of the Jurassic World Hilton to the first 'reveal' of the
park sent shivers up my spine. I was 13 again. That scene where the
island's SWAT containment team are effortlessly taken out by a
largely unseen creature: efficiently establishing a threat for the
audience while adding a nimble 2nd
act set piece, it's more Spielberg than Spielberg.
Now,
I've asked some of the few people I know if they've seen Jurassic
World
and an awful lot of them who have, said that they watched it via an
internet stream at home. Home cinema is fine by me. Most nights, I
will choose a film over television. I have an embarrassingly huge
collection of DVDs, but for a childless man in his 30s I suppose I
have to spend my heard-earned on something, so it might as be
something I love. However, if there's a film out that I expect to be
spectacular, impressive, awe-inspiring or just plain huge,
then I will make the effort to go see it at the pictures. These
people I asked: sure, they know what happens in Jurassic
World,
(spoiler alert: the dinosaurs get loose, the cute kids don't die) but
have they truly seen
it?
Not the way I have.
This
doesn't apply to everything; much depends upon your particular brand
of vodka (as Danny Ocean would put it). I'm not likely to go see
Woody Allen's latest existential comedy in IMAX, neither am I going
to queue in line for popcorn before seeing Noah Baumbach's latest
offbeat mumble-core drama about too-cool-for-school New Yorkers.
Earlier this week, I saw Ridley Scott's latest sci-fi, The
Martian.
Did I fire up the Android box and look for the strongest stream? Did
I hell. The latest Bond is out this month. Will I be scouring the
web for a link so I can see it first? Not a chance. Films like that
are made to be seen on a huge scale. When they're done well, they
deserve to be experienced in full-on projected glory. I already know
James Bond will win; he'll pull the mysterious woman, kill the bad
guy, fire off a one-liner and probably have a drink. I already know
that; I just need to see it happen 20 feet high in front of me.
That's
what blockbusters are for.
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