SF/F Commentary

Jim Carrey, Guns, and Kick-Ass 2 (Late Thoughts)

I said I would throw in my two-cents on this Jim Carrey story.  I realize I’m late to the party on this one, but I feel compelled to talk about the entire issue.  Instead of trying to summarize the whole damn situation, I’ll just block quote something from the Guardian: Carrey, who has been an outspoken proponent of increased gun control in the wake of the shootings by gunman Adam Lanza in December, tweeted on Sunday that he could no longer support the film. He wrote: “I did Kick-Ass 2 a month b4 Sandy Hook and now in all good conscience I cannot support that level of violence. My apologies to others involve[d] with the film. I am not ashamed of it but recent events have caused a change in my heart.”  Scottish comic-book writer and Kick-Ass 2 executive producer Mark Millar, whose original work forms the basis of the sequel, today responded on his own blog, pointing out that Carrey, who plays a character named Colonel Stars and Stripes, knew exactly what he was letting himself in for.  “Like Jim, I’m horrified by real-life violence (even though I’m Scottish), but Kick-Ass 2 isn’t a documentary. No actors were harmed in the making of this production! This is fiction and like Tarantino and Peckinpah, Scorsese and Eastwood, John Boorman, Oliver Stone and Chan-wook Park, Kick-Ass avoids the usual bloodless bodycount of most big summer pictures and focuses instead of the CONSEQUENCES of violence … Our job as storytellers is to entertain and our toolbox can’t be sabotaged by curtailing the use of guns in an action movie.” While I understand Millar’s frustration with Carrey, I do think he misses the point here.  From Carrey’s perspective, film violence leads, at least in part, to real world violence.  I don’t know how recent of a development these thoughts are for him, but it is quite clear that recent events (Newtown, etc.) have “inspired” him to take a more aggressive approach to the gun rights issue (see his comedy music video, “Cold Dead Hand“).  The position is guided by a particular set of principles, which suggests that supporting gun violence in media begets violence in the real world.  Within that perspective, life is viewed a sacred, and any action which might lead to the death of others (at the hand of a gun) must be opposed.  I understand this position and even agree with Carrey on many counts.  The notion that guns are, on their own, innocuous entities is specious at best and a downright lie at worst.  There are cultures attached to them, and some of those cultures support or foment violence, whether directly or indirectly.  Some of those cultures, of course, do nothing of the sort. Millar, however, takes the position that the film is pure fiction, and that nobody was actually hurt.  That information is a given.  You can’t intentionally kill people on film without violating the law, so the issue isn’t whether people are actually hurt, but what impact the violence might have on the general public.  Carrey seems to believe that film violence — at least, in some forms — contributes to the problem of violence in our culture.  Considering how fervently he has supported the gun-restriction side of the debate in the last year, it shouldn’t surprise us that he might have problems with anything perceived as connected to that very issue.  Carrey had a change of heart.  So sue him. That doesn’t make Carrey correct, of course.  There are two positions he has taken: Guns and gun culture contributes to violence in the country Violent media contributes to violence in the country (already mentioned) These are relatively extreme positions, of course, and ones that are not necessarily supported by reality.  While there are some studies that suggest violent media increases aggression and violence, there is no scientific consensus about the issue.  Likewise, while gun culture, in my opinion, does little to curb gun-related violence, and may actually contribute to it (however unintentionally), the argument that guns themselves, or the people who use them, are directly responsible for violence is specious.  The gun rights issue is about as grey as you can get.  Any time someone tosses out European statistics to support their position, they tend to ignore the different cultural conditions and all of the examples in Europe that contradict the argument in question.  The U.S. has a different culture, geography, and history from everyone else.  Carrey doesn’t acknowledge that as often as he should, which makes it easy for people to look at him as a left-leaning soundbite machine. However, despite how much I understand Carrey’s position — let alone agree with it — I do think he has shot himself in the foot here.  His career likely won’t suffer much, but he will piss off a lot of fans — and for good reason.  He chose to take a role in Kick-Ass 2.  While I won’t say he must support the film no matter what, I do think he should take into account that everyone else involved in the production, whether actors, directors, gaffers, or what have you, may actually suffer based on his actions.  If people do refuse to see the movie, that could affect other people’s careers.  I understand the importance of one’s principles; I have principles too, and I try to stick by them as often as possible.  But you also have to think about those around you.*  Carrey may not have anticipated his change of heart — how could he? — but he can anticipate how his actions will affect others.  In fact, since his argument against guns is largely a causal one, he should understand causality quite well. Personally, I think he should shut up and donate his Kick-Ass 2 salary to an organization that represents his interests.  He can take a step back from publicity for the time being, too (if you’re heart isn’t in it, then there’s no point trying to promote something anyway — that would

World in the Satin Bag

Month of Joy: “The Joy of City Stomping” by David Annandale

Though their heyday was undoubtedly the 1950s and 60s, giant monsters have rampaged through the movies long before and long after the era that saw the arrival of the Big Bugs, Godzilla and friends, and Ray Harryhausen’s stop-motion marvels. Obviously, King Kong casts his long shadow from 1933, but before him were the dinosaurs of The Lost World in 1925 (whose climax features the first city rampage), and even earlier, Georges Méliès gave us the likes of the Frost Giant from The Conquest of the Pole in 1912, and the titular Gigantic Devil in 1902. So, when all is said and done, we have had well over a century of giant monsters stomping (or, in Méliès’ case, cavorting) across our screens. Why? I’m trying to tackle the question from a particular angle, given the theme of Shaun’s site this week. What, exactly, is the joy that these creatures give us? And oh, why be coy: what is the joy they give me. They have for as far back as my conscious memories reach. I could go on about the symbolic riches they provide, such as the multiple, simultaneous readings embodied in Kong, the entangling patriarchy of It Came from Beneath the Sea’s octopus (defeated by the ingenuity of Faith Domergue), or Godzilla incarnating nuclear war in one film, enraged nature in another, or the vengeful spirits of the victims of Japanese war crimes in a third. And while it is true that these represent many of the joys I find in monster films now, they are only partial explanations. These reasons are encrustations, new pleasures that have grown on top of the old ones, but the old ones are still there. To put it another way: while I am fascinated by Cloverfield’s allusions to the first Godzilla film as a way of underscoring the big thematic concern shared by both films (the re-enactment, in fantastic terms, of very recent national traumas), there is no getting away from the fact that my biggest thrill in watching that film is the giddy excitement of seeing that monster wreck stuff. Let me put it more nakedly yet: when, in the VHS era, my brother and I were finally able to binge on all the Godzilla films, one of our primary criteria for deciding which ones were better than others was how much real estate was trashed. Monster fights in urban centres were way cooler than slugfests in the countryside (and this is a treat that Pacific Rim delivers in full during the Hong Kong sequence). So there is joy in destruction, as we have known since childhood. Isn’t this the main reason we play with building blocks? So we can spectacularly knock down what we laboriously construct? In this respect, the monster movie and the disaster film offer overlapping pleasures, but not identical ones. To focus only on the falling skyscrapers would be to miss the importance of the monster itself. It has been said (and I apologize for not recalling where I read this first), that one of the reasons children love dinosaurs so much is that they are non-threatening embodiments of power, embodiments that we first encounter when we are at our most powerless. If the power fantasies in super-heroes are ones where we suddenly have the ability to right the wrongs of an imperfect world, the monster gives us the ability to show an unfriendly world exactly what we think of it. Sometimes, we don’t want to save it. Sometimes, we just want to trample it underfoot. And that trampling is justified: with the exception of creatures such as King Ghidorah or Iris, who are the antagonists fought by the protagonist monsters (Godzilla and Gamera, respectively), the truly evil giant creature is rare indeed.* Kong, Godzilla, Gorgo, Gamera, Rodan, Mothra, Gwangi, and so on and on and on, even at their most vicious and destructive, have a core of innocence. They are more sinned against than sinning. It is telling, too, that though the 1954 Godzilla is still arguably the grimmest, most despairing giant monster movie going, and emphatically not aimed at children, it would not be too many years before the reverse would be the case, and the character had become a super-hero. The joyless film somehow leads to the infamous-yet-infectious expression of joy that is Godzilla’s dance in Invasion of Astro-Monster (1965). So the joys of the giant monster films are very much paradoxical. Even in the case of the darkest films (and let there be no mistake: Godzilla is about as bleak as they come), when the fears and traumatic memories of the audience are receiving their fullest, most graphic expression, there is still that anarchic joy to be had. There is still the excitement inherent to the rampage itself. Let me close by suggesting one further possibility. The rampage almost never truly comes out of the blue.** As baffling as the monsters are for the terrified, fleeing masses, there is always a context for them. I propose that we see the creatures as examples of the Event as defined by Alain Badiou: something that a particular system cannot account for, or even imagine, but that is nevertheless a result of that system, and shatters it. Perhaps, then, at some level, our joy is the result of recognizing the monsters as necessary. They’re certainly necessary for my inner child. ————————————————— * Pacific Rim is no different: the evil kaiju are the antagonists, and while the jaegers are robots, it is significant that the opening narration refers to them as “monsters.” ** Cloverfield is an obvious exception here, in that the monster appears to have literally fallen from the sky. Its anomalous position is, I believe, a pointed one: one of the many aspects of 9/11 that the film is evoking is the confusion and terror of those on the ground in the middle of the event, people for whom, at that moment and in that place, the broader picture of why these things are happening is

SF/F Commentary

The Vigilante in American Mythology (Brief Thoughts) #monthofjoy

(Note:  due to an inordinate amount of spam comments, I’ve disabled comments on this post.  If you really want to post a response, you can send me an email and I’ll figure something out.  It’s irritating, but the other option is to have to deal with 100+ spam comments a day on this page alone…) While reading my Hugo Awards voting packet, I came across this post by Gilbert Colon on Person of Interest and Nolan’s Batman movies (somehow I missed this last year).  After taking in the first couple of paragraphs, I had to stop and start writing a post in response to the following: To begin with, Person of Interest was created by Jonathan Nolan, who wrote The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises with his brother Christopher (the Trilogy’s director) and veteran comic-book adapter David S. Goyer. The parallels between Person of Interest and the Trilogy run deeper than the surface fact that the heroes in both are vigilantes. “A vigilante is just a man lost in the scramble for his own gratification. But … if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if they can’t stop you, then you become something else entirely.”  Some of Person of Interest’s similarities may be due to the archetypal characters it seeks to depict. The series’ crimestoppers are altruistic protectors derived from the Old West, the private-eye genre, and modern television reinterpretations (The Equalizer, Stingray, and Hack come to mind) of which Batman, “the Dark Knight Detective,” is one. Nolan confessed that he’s “always liked characters who … operate on the edge of the law” and said he “was interested in writing something … dangerous. I’ve always been drawn to that aspect of Batman … maybe we are tapping into some of that.” One cast member (Michael Emerson) hypothesizes  “that American audiences have a hunger for avengers … — the vigilante, the lone operators that will cut through the red tape and set things right … That’s such a strong theme in the States, and it’s part of what we are delivering. It goes back to cowboy movies and everything like that.” Why do Americans like these vigilante types so much?  Why Batman and Superman and the X-Men and so on and so forth?  What about these individuals who take matters into their own hands is so compelling to American audiences? I’ll admit that if there is a field of academic study on vigilantes, my knowledge about it amounts to nil.  I, too, fell in love with vigilante types, from Tim Burton’s Batman movies to Nolan’s masterpieces.  And as a reader of comics in my youth, these figures have been central to my life in a way I never noticed before.  In fact, if you look at the sea of science fiction narratives that have dominated the screen in the last fifty years, it’s rife with examples of people going against the grain of society in some crucial way.  Even Star Wars, commonly heralded as “that thing with which many of us grew up,” is a relative of the vigilante narrative, albeit with a far more revolutionary feel — vigilantes, in my mind, are far more isolated than the Rebels in Star Wars.  Vigilantes are Batman, Riddick, half of Marvel’s superheroes (even Magneto), and on and on and on. In thinking about all of these characters and their narrative purposes, it dawned on me that American audiences are drawn to these figures because of some deep desire for a fantasy of action.  So many of us live our lives trapped in a space we feel we cannot change, and most of us don’t have the willpower or ability to fulfill the role of the vigilante ourselves.  And in the real world, the vigilante almost never wins:  he or she almost always dies and the media campaign against the vigilante almost always succeeds. When you look at the political landscape of the United States, you can see the walls of the trap and how they function.  Whatever you might think about America’s political parties, one can’t deny the fact that Congress appears incapable of any serious action.  They say the system is gridlocked — trapped between two parties with drastically different political interests.  The trap of American life extends from the directly political to the indirectly political.  Young people have been faced with the stark reality that many of their futures have been forfeited, or at least put on indefinite hold.  They can’t get jobs, or the careers they set out for have withered away or stopped growing.  My mother faced this reality first hand:  when she got her paralegal certification, the economy had tanked, flooding the paralegal jobs with applications from law school grads.  There wasn’t anything she could do but find a job in another field.  For a lot of Americans, there is a very real sense that nothing we do as individuals will matter in the long run.  We feel stuck or lost.  Some of us have lost hope (something with which I’ve battled over the years — largely from a political perspective), and day by day, we hear about criminals getting away with horrible crimes, the police failing to do their jobs, governments cutting funding to programs that actually save lives (firefighters, for example), and on and on and on. In my mind, the vigilante becomes a cathartic release, a way of living out the inner “us” that longs for change.*  All the things that are wrong with our world — albeit, within a particular perspective of “wrong” — seem beyond our control.  It feels good to watch Batman take matters into his own hands.**  When you look in American film, the list of “true American” vigilante-type heroes is a mile long.  In that list, I would include people like John McClane, Rambo, Erica Bain (from The Brave One), Hit Girl / Big Daddy / Kick-Ass, Batman, Punisher, Jack Burton, Dirty Harry, Foxy Brown, and so on and so forth.  None of these figures are political neutral, of

SF/F Commentary

Around the Pod-o-Sphere: Shoot the WISB on Pacific Rim

Over at The Skiffy and Fanty Show, I’m joined by David Annandale, Paul Weimer, and Michael R. Underwood to discuss Guillermo Del Toro’s wonderful giant robit epic, Pacific Rim.  The podcast is not spoiler free, so if you want to see the movie before you hear what we think about it, save the podcast for later.  In short, we all really liked the movie and recommend everyone see it in theaters as soon as possible. Anywhoodles!

SF/F Commentary

An Announcement: The Week of Joy Continues

After the horror of the weekend, which I will not discuss here, I have decided to continue the Week of Joy throughout the rest of the month.  Thus, July will now fall under the heading, Month of Joy.  For the remainder of this month, I will primarily blog about things that make me happy, and will refrain, as much as possible, from discussing the depressing garbage going on in our community.  Exceptions will exist, of course (I have a post about Jim Carrey coming), but I really want to bleed joy for a while. And in the interest of making this as wide reaching as possible, I’m going to reach out to friends and writers for guest posts about joyful SF/F-related things.  Expect a lot of content for the remainder of the month! On that note, I’m going to go teach stuff to students…

Scroll to Top