Showing posts with label Thriller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thriller. Show all posts

11.14.2010

The Walking Dead - "Days Gone Bye" & "Guts"

I'm not usually one to recap television, but AMC's iteration of The Walking Dead demands deeper exploration and thought as a piece of social commentary as much as a piece of both horror and the shambling, ubiquitous zombie craze. The first question seems to be why now, when the whole zombie thing seems woefully played out throughout this decade with films (28 Days Later, 28 Weeks Later, Zombieland, Shaun of the Dead, et al.) and the book Pride and Prejudice and Zombies already spreading the genre/concept thin? The second question is how can any new text/art contribute something meaningful to the concept? And the third seems to be how The Walking Dead, as translated from its original comic series version, executes the ideas in a valuable way that makes the show worth watching. Zombies are, after all, so deeply ingrained into pop culture sensibilities at this point that adapting them in a new way is nearly impossible, so what's the deal with zombies and why are we still at least vaguely enamored with them?

From 2000 - 2010, there have been somewhere around 11+ movies with a focus on zombies or the undead as incapacitated, but still dangerous antagonists. For the purpose of this I'm included Planet Terror from Grindhouse and the Resident Evil franchise too, not to mention the yearly showings of Michael Jackson's Thriller on any and all on demand TV services. We have been exposed to zombification in film in the forms of toxins, viruses, injections, sudden-inexplicable-events and much more, and concept remains desirable. And the concept refuses to die, so to speak, but not because each new reinvention or retelling brings anything specific or new to the genre. Instead, zombie film, and texts, are a combined force of campy nostalgia and sociological study. Their staying power comes from our love of them, and from our fear of what they represent; the animalistic, unfettered, mob-mentality-driven aspect of the human animal. We all feel our society to be a fragile construct based on cooperation (i.e. we all agree tacitly not to kill and eat each other, but we all recognize that as an illusion too) and zombie films, texts, and programs give us that fear-loaded taste of being the last person to find out the social contract has disintegrated.

Ultimately, zombie apocalypse is a macroscopic break-up in our rom-com with society and order. The people who survive, who play the protagonists against the hordes of undead, are the broken up with. Society, and the gross majority of the population suddenly goes a new way, altering the arrangement to which we've grown accustom, and that leaves the broken-up-with to deal with the world completely altered, and how their ideals and concepts of reality are not longer applicable. This breach of trust, like a break-up, but even greater as a total reworking of reality is the crux of our fear. We all feel, at least to some extent, that the order around us is temporary and could be upended at any time. This is our fear of war, and famine and all types of destitution. We know that desperation makes strange brain-fellows. And with the concept so simple and over-arching, is there any way to contribute anything new to the narrative? Do we even need new ideas or is the simple basis of that fear enough to drive anything?

Ever since Night of the Living Dead (Romero, 1968), the idea of the undead overwhelming the "actualized living" (I call them this because our protagonists, as with ourselves, always define themselves by their/our free will and consciousness, regardless of whether their/our reactions and behaviors are actually chosen by them/us) was demonstrated as the truest test of our social norms and rule-based culture. When the majority has gone a different way, then it is a small group against the changing tide. And for Romero's first film, that minority group was a mix of adults and youths, races (racism plays an essential role in the film, if primarily latent and creeds, all fighting to maintain what they thought reality to be, but also fighting amongst themselves. Zombies test our resiliency against a changing larger society, but also our ability to maintain our society on a microcosmic level. Zombies force us to ask us how enlightened we really are. Can we maintain what we hold to be humanity and order when it is no longer in style? And can we also continue to fight for some level of social justice and order in the face of a collapsing world? Or, are we, as we fear, simply animals who will do what is necessary to ensure our survival, even if it means cannibalism and worse?

The short answer to the second question stated in the opening is that there is no need to contribute something new. Society is a wealth of contradictions, fears and breakdowns, and all zombies do is act as a catalyst for what we fear most about ourselves. Which leads me to discuss what The Walking Dead does that other such zombie texts and epics do not. The comic book series, now 78 issues in, digs deeper into the social fear issue. And since, I hope we've agreed, zombies aren't scary as much on their own merit as what they represent about our, maybe id-overwhelmed minds, destroying the order we feel exists, they aren't the point of The Walking Dead at all. The reason that the program should, and hopefully will, succeed is that it is ultimately a massive human drama. This is why in the first episode "Days Gone Bye" no explanation for the zombification of society is given. We don't need to know why, sure we want to know, but what matters is what the people who remain do to maintain what we hope for society, and how they fend off the extinction of culture. (And that's really what it is, right? Zombies don't create art, they don't build, they don't love or feel, they simply act to destroy... which is the thing we fear most in ourselves. A hunger for destruction.) So, we don't need to know why society has fallen into disrepair. The why is usually far more mundane anyway. We need to know what the protagonists will do to keep culture and humanity alive. We need to know/hope that there is some way for our world to bounce back in a better way. Ideally, with each zombie narrative, we hope that there will be a cure or at least that by the end we can rebuild, that even when humans become completely animal, completely primal, we can still start again and do it right so the world will be ordered again.

That's the beauty of The Walking Dead. Following one of the most brutal opening scenes in television, we meet Rick and his, then fellow officer of the law, Shane talking about the nuances of love, lust and manhood. Fitting that our first heroes would be actually responsible for the maintenance of societal order. These two men have a special interest in keeping the world safe and upholding humanity as we know it. This is also why we feel so much for Rick when he awakens in the hospital to see that the entire world is different. He believed, in his career, in a certain order of things, and when he sees the destruction and blood in the hospital, it's as much about being scared as being devastated that everything he held dear was an illusion. The unthinkable happened, and all while he was asleep. The first episode, then focuses on Rick's coping with the new world he lives in. The contract is broken. Nothing makes sense. And everything is beautifully drawn out over and hour and thirty to keep use wary of our surroundings.

When Rick meets Morgan and Duane Jones, he receives only information enough to tell him that what he has seen is everywhere and that the CDC is somehow involved in trying to clean it up. And through Morgan and Duane we are forced to confront another deep fear, that if the people we love were on the other side of the line, if they are part of the new contract, and have broken the one we hold true, how do we reconcile them? The scene where Morgan tries, but cannot gun down his zombie wife, is one of the most heart-wrenchingly real moments in zombie lore. Could any of us kill someone we loved if we didn't have to, but it would ultimately put them out of their misery. (Is that a commentary on euthanasia... perhaps a bit.) But also, what someone looks like betrays reality when they are no longer that person inside. And Rick, who puts a half-eaten zombie out of her misery is performing the same kind of service, but he does it clinically. (Now, to be clear, I'm not forgetting how Shaun was forced to shoot his mum in Shaun of the Dead, but the circumstance of direct danger forced his hand. Had she left the Winchester, it's unlikely he could have brought himself to shoot her at long range.)

In "Guts" the ante is upped significantly. Rick, who is now trapped inside a military tank in Atlanta is rescued by a group of survivors, all of whom have entered the city as scavengers. Now with a lot of other survivors, a lot of other believers in the old ways, so to speak, The Walking Dead tries to explore the failures of the old society. The episode spends a lot of time on racism, and how one redneck Southerner still holds onto his views of the black survivors in his group despite the circumstances. While I was initially off-put by the over-the-top portrayal, it seems that the core message is that society, the one we lost, but that the survivors still wish to uphold was deeply flawed. How far from the undead were we really? Intolerance still exists, and that seems like a negative that should be seen, understood and remembered. At least as zombies, everyone is equal. So, when Rick cuffs the racist to a pipe on the roof and tells him that none of the old aspects of society exist anymore, it's hard to believe him fully. Sure, Rick is an idealist, a mostly pragmatic, enlightened individual, but his contradiction is difficult. The zombies did destroy the old culture, but simply by surviving they are seeking to maintain it.

What "Days Gone Bye" and "Guts" do well is establish the collapse of the world. And how the last vestiges of society react to the change. The Walking Dead, as with all zombie work, is about us, about people, about survivors. The zombies are a convenient antagonist, but the real villains are always ourselves. My hope is that the program will continue to drive the issue of humanity until it breaks itself, really clearly showing that all we need to fall apart is a catalyst. And that our hearts and minds are powerful enough to transcend some things, but too weak to transcend others. Our tentative grasp on order is a ripe topic, especially because it works in en masse and under the microscope. Thanks for sticking with me on this long post. Hopefully my next two episode review will be exposition light and get straight at the show a little more.

The Walking Dead airs Sunday nights on AMC.
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10.26.2010

October 24: Of Montreal, Janelle Monae

There are no bad things that can be said about a show that is rich in theatrics, costume changes, tricks of lighting, giant fake television set-pieces and ends with a medley of good Michael Jackson covers. When two acts are so relentlessly active, so evocative, as Of Montreal and Janelle Monae were on Sunday night, they inject life into an audience that cannot be ignored, or perhaps more creepily, resisted. I attended this show primarily for the opportunity to witness Janelle Monae in person. I quickly hopped on that bandwagon; addicted to her bright, soulful vocals and songs that are fraught with a fantasy-sci-fi combo that is remarkably poignant as social commentary (and also exceedingly self-aware). Monae is a purveyor dance, fun music, that extends beyond its own mold of merely providing a beat to say more about the nature of love, and the way our world oppresses us at our own hand. Of Montreal is a band I have loved, specifically for Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? and 2008's Skeletal Lamping, over the last few years. I had read a lot about them and heard a great bit of anecdotal accounts of their live performance, but I had never seen the chaos myself. After seeing, Of Montreal is a sort of "bucket list band" that I'd recommend seeing live, preferably in their current prime, before dying.

The show began with Monae's face, dressed as her character the ArchAndroid, was projected above the stage. After a brief exposition, to drive the compelling story of sci-fi robo-oppression, she cried to the crowd, "There is only one rule tonight: Dance or die." And dance we did. Monae performed close to half the songs on her new album, hitting the highlights of "Cold War," "Tightrope," and "Wondaland." The show was pure energy, fueled by drama and motion. And costumes. Monae appeared initially as one of three cloaked figures. Facing away from the stage she began her first number, and in time, the hood came down to reveal her trademark pompadour, and from there her performance was lively, powerful and loaded with sharp footwork. Often, instead of back up dancers, Monae was flanked by cloaked figures or masked creatures, each group playing into the active performance art of the song. Whether painting numbers in acrylic on a blank canvas, live, throughout a soulful lament, or "gunning down" oppressive figures with her finger-guns, the show was all about activity. The fact that she wasn't the headliner was disappointing, if only because it would have meant a few more stolen moments in her presence. Also, she might've played "Oh, Maker" or "Come Alive (War of the Roses)."

After Monae, Of Montreal upped the ante on the performance art end of things. Singer Kevin Barnes appeared on stage wearing tights, a sort of skirt-apron hybrid, a frilled shirt and a vest. Truly, this is a sight to behold, even if you don't like/love their music. Again, it's the energy factor. Barnes and the whole band are working at full, break-neck speed. And that's even before a sequence of costume changes and guest appearances to the stage. Like Monae, Of Montreal had groups of characters roaming and populating the stage. Notably a pair of pigs, a man and a woman in pink bodysuits, wearing pig helmet-masks. Barnes and the woman pig share a sensual, and brilliantly vivid grind-session, at least until the man pig grows jealous, setting the stage into chaos as Barnes continues to narrate and attempts to escape the angry beast. Ultimately, the skit (if I can call it that without sounding like an asshole) is a about polyamory, among other things that may be weird or "evocative," and it is all well executed. Other highlights included aliens with fish-heads, bullet/vibrator-headed robots, and a group of asexual checkered body-suit clowns. And really, this only gives you a rough idea of the whole experience. Of Montreal is like Cirque du Soleil, as depicted in the mushroom-trip-scene in the film Knocked Up, but better.

And that doesn't even cover the musicianship, the vocals and the fact that the band makes you want to dance. Or that they closed with an encore consisting of "Thriller," "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'," and "P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)," which is possibly one of the most excellent uses of the cover-song close that I've witnessed. This was a show that was technically exceptional and irreplaceable as an experience. Should you get the chance to see either band, or both, to bear witness to their unique, united spectacle, then take it. Go, see the magical oddities and strange fantasies unfold because you're really getting 4 shows in one (Monae + theatrics + Of Montreal + circus maximum = 4 SHOWS).
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