“Margin Call” (2011): A One-Minute Film Review

In 2008, on the eve of the globalized economic meltdown, a young analyst at a Lehmen-Brothers-esque financial institution, comes to a startling conclusion.  His firm is dangerously over-leveraged with cancerous assets and is only weeks away from a complete and total collapse.  Faced with a seven-figure payoff, he and his fellow traders are asked to make a choice.  Are they willing to bite the bullet and reap the consequences of their own greed, or should they sell the toxic assets in one fierce day of trading, thus further spreading the disease to the rest of an already strained financial industry?

Hailed by David Denby of The New Yorker as “one of strongest American films of the year and easily the best Wall Street movie ever made,” Margin Call is the sharply-written debut effort from writer-director J.C. Chandor.  Shot against the New York skyline, it dares to look at these “gods” staring down from their lofty towers of privilege and power and asks the question: can you humanize the demonized?  Or, in this era of Nietzschian politics, must you continue to paint them as sub-human monsters fit only for extermination.

This film is rated R by the MPAA for language.

 

“The Hunger Games” Trilogy … (part 1)

SPOILER ALERT:  I’ve been told I need to add a spoiler alert to this post.  I’ve never really understood this practice, as I’ve always assumed that if I am reading something, I am going to learn something about the subject at hand.  Nevertheless, if you thought you were going to read this post and learn nothing about The Hunger Games, you have now been warned that this is not likely to be the case.  Tread carefully.

Every work of art has a worldview.  That is to say, every work of art – regardless of when it was composed, by whom it was composed, or even for what purpose it was composed – has a perspective, a way of seeing the “reality” that defines our everyday life.  So when we look at a work of art, rather than passively taking it in, or judging it solely upon its ability to entertain us, one of the best things we can do is to try to analyze the perspective or worldview that underlies the work itself.  For in understanding the worldview, we will gain a much greater appreciation for the work of art, and we will come to know whether it is great art on the basis of whether or not it succeeded in presenting the “reality” it sought to explain.

With that in mind, I want to start a new series that explores the worldview of the run-away best sellers known as The Hunger Games trilogy.[1]  For the sake of those of you who have not yet read the books, but would like to know a little more about the phenomenon, I now offer this brief, spoiler-filled summary of the first book in the trilogy.

In the ruins of a place once known as North America lies the nation of Panem, a shining Capitol surrounded by twelve outlying districts. Long ago the districts waged war on the Capitol and were defeated. As part of the surrender terms, each district agreed to send one boy and one girl to appear in an annual televised event called, “The Hunger Games,” a fight to the death on live TV. Sixteen-year-old Katniss Everdeen, who lives alone with her mother and younger sister, regards it as a death sentence when she is forced to represent her district in the Games. The terrain, rules, and level of audience participation may change but one thing is constant: kill or be killed.[2]

Now, with that basic understanding of the plot, it’s time to pose some questions.[3]  First, I want to ask the question: what is prime reality in The Hunger Games?  In other words, if everything else were to be stripped away, what is of utmost importance to Katniss, Gale, Peeta and the others?  Surprisingly enough, in a novel built upon such a violent and degrading premise, the answer must unquestionably be: life.  And this is where many of the reviews I read have clearly missed the mark.  Consider, for a moment, the premise of the games themselves.  The hunger games are held as a means of reminding the population at large that the Capital has the capability to take their children and force them to fight to the death.  This is never shown as any other than an abomination.  Even when the citizens of the Capital are shown to be throwing elaborate parties and to be gambling on the outcome of the games, the reader is in on the joke.  This is high satire meant to mock a society that is so shallow that its primary form of entertainment is derived from the deaths of children being slaughtered by other children.

Moreover, lest you think that all of the children descend into the madness, notice how only three children are killed by the heroes, Katniss and Peeta.    The first victim, killed by Katniss, has sprung a trap and ensnared a young, innocent girl by the name of Rue.  When Katniss runs into the scene, desperate to save Rue, she is surprised by another boy who spears Rue while still in the trap.  Without thinking, Katniss fires an arrow through the boy’s throat and he dies quickly.  So the heroine kills the first victim almost instinctively as she tries to save her young friend.  The second victim to go down is accidentally killed by Peeta.  He has been out gathering fruit to eat.  Unfortunately, he is unwise to the ways of the woods, and he inadvertently picks poisonous berries.  When another “tribute,” or player, happens upon their camp, she steals the fruit and ends up poisoning herself.   Finally, near the climax of the story, wild animals overcome the main antagonist in the arena.  As he is slowly dying, Katniss notches an arrow and lets it fly into his skull as an act of mercy.  So in all three cases where the heroes kill, the circumstances that surround the killing are such that the actions of the heroes are highly defensible from a moral perspective.

So what is the author saying?  Life matters.  And to take the life of another is morally reprehensible act, particularly when that act is performed merely for the sake of sport or entertainment.

This brings us to our second major question.  If life is the prime reality in the world of the Hunger Games, what is the nature of the world itself?  Perhaps a better way to ask that question would be to say: what is the world like?  What stories give it meaning?  What problems exist that threaten the prime reality?  What can be hoped for and what can possibly be achieved?

Interestingly enough, the major problem in the world of The Hunger Games is not the games themselves.  The games are merely a tool utilized by the real source of the problem, which is the government.  You see, at its core, The Hunger Games is actually a novel about the seeds of political unrest and social dissent.  One group possesses all of the power, while the populations in the outlying 12 districts have no power.   What’s more, the people in the outlying districts are forced to scratch out a meager existence while providing for the opulent life-styles of the rich.  So in many ways, The Hunger Games actually serves as a populist critique of society.  But which society?  Remember, The Hunger Games is set in the near future, in a land called Panem; and Panem is built on the ruins of the North American continent.  So clearly, the author sees our society as being one that is in grave danger, and it is out of the ashes of our ruin, she fears, that new tyrannies will spring up to enslave humanity.  In that sense, it is not too far fetched to suggest that The Hunger Games has much in common with the Occupy Wall Street movement and a belief that the ninety-nine percent are being made to serve the one percent.

This review will be continued at:

The Hunger Games Trilogy … (part 2)

The Hunger Games Trilogy … (part 3)

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[1] The Hunger Games trilogy includes: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay.

[2] This summary was taken directly from the book summary offered by amazon.com.

[3] To assist me in analyzing this book, I am going to pull upon a set of questions first developed by Dr. James Sire, a too-often, under-appreciated, Christian apologist and teacher.

 

From Occupy Wall Street to “V for Vendetta”

Late last week, cnn.com, Time magazine and other similar news outlets carried a story about the appearance of Guy Fawkes masks at various Occupy Wall Street protests around the world.  Having just written on the subject of David Fincher’s Fight Club, I was not terribly surprised to see this, for I had concluded my review with a prediction that the Occupy Wall Street movement, modeled as it was on the Arab Spring, could only move in the direction of violent resistance.  So where’s the violence you ask?  How does a mask equal violence?  Well, in order to understand that, you need to understand another recent film that popularized the mask and explained its origins.

Still feeling a bit confused?  Let me break it down for you.  V for Vendetta is a film based on the now-famous graphic novel written by Alan Moore in the early 1980s.  The film itself is set in the near-future Britain, which is under the control of an extremist, right-wing government called Norsefire.  Having survived a nuclear war that has decimated other parts of the globe, “Britain prevails” by submitting itself to the policies of a planned economy, government-controlled media, and concentration camps that segregate racial and sexual minorities.  Moreover, the government itself is legitimated – or propped up – by religious images and language that are used to justify the harsh, totalitarian actions of the leader, who can only be charitably described as a Hitler-esque figure.

The cross depicted in the film is a papal or archiepiscopal cross, marked by two transoms of uneven length.

As for the protagonist of the story, V is a man that has been deeply scarred by the appalling experiments carried out under the authority of this government.  Enraged, and permanently disfigured, he adopts the persona and mask of Guy Fawkes, a true-to-life historical figure that attempted to blow-up Parliament in 1605.  As an anarchist, V’s violent plan of action is driven forward by two overwhelming desires:

1. The desire to expose the lies that undergird the actions of the government.
2. The desire to awaken the political consciousness of the dulled masses that have been drugged into a stupor by the idiocy of the television and propaganda.

Sound familiar?  At the heart of the Occupy Wall Street movement — at the heart of the Arab Spring and the G20 protests – lies a deep, globalized dissatisfaction with the way that governments have conducted themselves.  Moreover, these movements are founded on populist ideals that don’t propose a way forward, so much as they propose a revolution in which society is reordered for the purpose of meeting the needs (or wants) of those that are either legitimately oppressed or those that mistakenly see themselves as such.

So the only questions that truly remains are these:

How long will it be before one of these mask-wearing protestors takes their dissatisfaction to the next level? 

How long before “Fight Club” becomes “Project Mayhem?” 

How long before the people tire of “peaceful resistance” and go looking for salvation in the form of revolution? 

V for Vendetta is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of America.  It contains: strong violence, some language and a scene with dead, naked bodies being tossed into mass graves.

 

“There are Two Rules in Fight Club …”

This is the first post in an ongoing series on the subject of film and culture.  Please be aware that many of the films reviewed in this series will contain material that is highly antithetical to the Christian faith.  Nevertheless, there is value in understanding these films for the role they play in the formation of the greater culture at large.  Any decision you make to either watch these films or not is entirely up to you.

Fifteen years ago, in 1996, a struggling writer by the name of Chuck Palahniuk published his first novel entitled Fight Club.  Three years later, a young director by the name of David Fincher decided to adapt the book to film, and the world witnessed the birth of a genuine “cult phenomenon.”

So what was Fight Club about?  And why are we still talking about it 15 years later?  Well, let’s start by taking a look at the trailer:

Right away, you can that this is an incredibly violent film, filled with all sorts of nihilistic aggression.  But the real question we have to ask is this: is that all there is to Fight Club? Is Fight Club just another violent film in the same vein as Resevoir Dogs, Saw, or A Clockwork Orange?  I would argue that the answer is “no.”  Fight Club is far more than an orgy of mayhem.  It’s about one central idea that is best summed up in the words of one of the central characters, Tyler Durden (played by Brad Pitt):

“I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.”

What begins as mere disillusionment, however, rapidly escalates into something much more electrifying, much more insideous:

“Fight Club was the beginning,” says Durden. “Now it’s moved out of the basement, it’s called Project Mayhem.”

You see, genuine disillusionment is not a static entity.  By its very nature, disillusionment must progress in one of two directions.  It either degenerates into personal apathy, or it escalates into a state of confrontation.  In Fight Club, apathy is not an option because apathy itself  is viewed to be part of the problem.  So in Fight Club, there was never a question as to where this disillusionment would take us.  And thus, we shouldn’t be surprised when Pitt’s character finally states his real philosophy:

“Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We are God’s unwanted children. So be it!”

Now unfortunately, this is the part of the post where I now have to betray the famed ending of the movie.  For in order to understand what Fight Club is really about, in order to understand why it still resonates in 21st century, you have to understand the conclusion.  Throughout the film, you have watched “The Narrator” (played by Edward Norton) take a journey out of apathy into a place of action.  But as he witnesses the greater and greater extremes of Durden’s (Pitt’s) nihilistic actions, he becomes more and more concerned.  By the end, “The Narrator” has learned two great truths:

1. Durden has planned to blow up buildings in the financial district of the city.
2. Durden is not actually real.  He is “The Narrator’s” alternate personality; and thus “The Narrator” is actually responsible for everything that has transpired.

So what does he do?  Does he “fuck redemption” as the movie has lead us to believe he will?  No, he does not .  Instead, he fashions his own form of redemption as he shoots himself in the head (thus killing his alternate personality), and then grabs the hand of the his girlfriend and watches in satisfaction as the buildings come crumbling down.

“You met me at very strange time in my life …”  Now stop and think about that.  What’s he really saying?  In short, he sees himself as someone who changed: ” I was apathetic, but I no longer am.  My disillusionment has become action.  I was a follower, but I no longer am.  Now I stand alone, in complete control of my actions.  I was weak, but now … now I am Nietzsche’s ubermensch.  I define my own morality; and in my world, the corporations that sell us dreams are to blame for everything that makes society ill.  I … I am a savior; and if you follow after me, I can redeem society by tearing it down …”

So why are we still talking about Fight Club?  Why am I writing about it this morning?  Because I believe the themes of Fight Club are still being played out in society today.  I believe we see the massive dissatisfaction with the transnational corporations that dominate our world.  I believe we see apathy in the youth and a growing sense of powerlessness amongst the “middle class” of the Western World.  In the G20 protests, the Occupy Wall Street movement, and the Arab Spring, we see the seeds of dissatisfaction growing and I wonder whether we see the beginning of a far more violent revolution.  I wonder what this new form of “redemption” will really look like?