District 9 is not for the faint of heart. Its gruesome violence is instead for the full of heart: those who value how science fiction can comment on horrific political realities. Political reality is signaled by the setting of this film—Johannesburg, South Africa—a location famous for Apartheid, a system by which blacks were segregated from whites through the development of all-black “townships”: what we might call segregated “districts.” The “District 9” that names this film is a township developed for space alien refugees: creatures nicknamed “prawns” because they look like huge sea shrimp with arms and legs. But in the word “prawns” we also hear “pawns”; the creatures are pawns to a system that fears that which is “alien”: that which looks, talks, and acts differently than majority culture. And we see that the segregation of aliens into wretched living environments turns them wretchedly violent, making them all the more feared by South Africans, who use despicable violence to subdue them.

By: Crystal Downing

All good science fiction is a commentary on its own time. District 9 is good science fiction, and one needs to look no further than the film’s setting to understand this: Johannesburg, South Africa. Apartheid in the 21st century. Whites and…aliens. Director Neill Blomkamp uses documentary style footage and a real world grittiness to tell a story of racial hatred, prejudice, and xenophobia. This time around, the blacks are aliens, and the aliens represent suppressed humans across the globe.

District 9 is a slum on the outskirts of a near future Johannesburg where marooned aliens are forced to live after their mother ship mysteriously arrives above the South African city. The aliens resemble insects, or perhaps marine invertebrates, and come to be nicknamed “prawns” a derogatory descriptive, as one police officer remarks, “I mean, you can’t say they don’t look like that, that’s what they look like, right? They look like prawns” meaning the species of shrimp-like crustacean. This sets up the extreme oppression the aliens are forced into by their human overlords. The aliens are routinely mistreated, abused, and never allowed to travel beyond the heavily militarized borders of District 9. Very rapidly this slum becomes a hotbed of illegal drugs, guns, black market trafficking, and violent crime. The aliens live in poverty, never becoming more than insects to their human neighbors.

The film’s action begins as the human outcry against the ghastly District 9 reaches fever pitch, and the Multinational United private military corporation steps in to relocate the over 1.8 million aliens to a site 240 kilometers away from Johannesburg, District 10. During the course of serving “eviction notices”, a horrible perversion of justice, the lead operative Wikus van de Merwe becomes involved in the alien’s plight in a way he never imagined possible.

District 9 draws heavily on its inspiration, a six-minute short film called “Alive in Joburg”, also directed by Neill Blomkamp, and featuring a similar plot. Both films reference the historical forced removal of over 60,000 black South Africans from a District Six in Cape Town which occurred between 1968 and 1982 while apartheid was under effect in South Africa. Then it was blacks. Today it is aliens. District 9 leaves us with questions: how different are we? What kind of creatures will that difference turn us into? Will we become monsters, or will we remember that we are all human?

By: Philip Joel Martin

The Harry Potter books have been criticized by the Evangelical Christian community, banned from school libraries, burned by church groups, and denounced by the Pope. Harry practices witchcraft, they argue, and our children may try to follow in his footsteps. But that was before J. K. Rowling released her final installment of the Potter series in 2007, in which (spoiler alert) Harry dies sacrificially, only to rise again in Christ-like fashion to defeat evil forever. Rowling herself has acknowledged her Christian faith and the intentional Christian themes in her Potter novels. A recent article in the Boston Globe details how Harry is now embraced by religious scholars and critics. So we are over that embarrassing phase when Christians said silly things like Harry Potter is like “mixing rat poison with orange soda.” Right?

Because it was a very embarrassing time. Like when the Onion wrote a satirical article about how the Potter series was turning millions of kids onto witchcraft, and mocked the Christian response: “Over protests from Christian Right leaders, who oppose the books for containing magic–and, by extension, Satanic religious beliefs–millions of children are willing their bodies and souls to Lucifer in unholy blood covenants. In 1995, it was estimated that some 100,000 Americans, mostly adults, were involved in devil-worship groups. Today, more than 14 million children alone belong to the Church of Satan, thanks largely to the unassuming boy wizard from 4 Privet Drive.” If that weren’t bad enough, most of the article was cut and pasted into a chain email, and sent around as proof of the dangers of reading Harry Potter. Many Christians, missing the satire and the irony, forwarded it along, furthering the embarrassment.

The Potter books are by no means an isolated example of Christian misunderstanding of art. There are examples recent (The Last Temptation of Christ, My Sweet Jesus sculpture) and historical (Puritan rejection of theater due to its portrayal of immorality). The church’s history of engaging with the arts is often embarrassing. Here is a relationship that needs reconciliation.

There is a lesson to be learned here. Fear no art. Fear instead the email from your aunt which warns you about some upcoming film or novel that is supposed to destroy your faith.

Apathy is an addictive depressant. It hooks you in, makes you feel less inclined to progress, makes you content with your place, your condition, your rank. It’s also the most heavily marketed addictive compound in modern society. Everywhere one looks, the status quo remains unchanged, and the masses shamble about, seeking only their own satisfaction. Of course, the most distraught apathy fiends are… dare I say, zombies.

Yes indeed. I have found, upon extensive observation, that most creators of this subgenre of horror/apocalyptic film, aside from those trying to cash in on the success of others (cough*Lucio Fulci*cough), are always saying something more than “DON”T GET BIT!” in their films. The fact that most zombie outbreaks are accompanied by “the end of civilization as we know it” reinforces such a message. I’d like to think the zombies in question are a portrayal of the apathetic masses, which don’t truly live, but yet carry on. As Christians, we can’t afford to get caught up in living in the status quo, apathetic to those around us and anything that doesn’t fall directly into our line of sight. Zombieland is America’s newest foray into the Zombie genre, and the first real competition for Shaun of the Dead in the zombie comedy field. Through a pseudo review of the film, as well as an exploration of the two male leads’ (an excellent pairing of relative newcomer Jesse Eisenberg and veteran Woody Harrelson) approaches to life, as viewed through the lens of Christian counters to apathism (yes, I did just invent that word… deal with it), we’ll hopefully come to a realization of the relevance of this subgenre, and all its insight into our very real dilemmas.

If one looks at the classic comic pairings, such as Aykroyd and Belushi , Abbott and Costello(and, for our generation, ones like Michael Cera and Jonah Hill), the comedy is usually generated from the interplay between the characters. In the case of Zombieland, Harrelson and Eisenberg display very entertaining chemistry, primarily because of how different they are. Harrelson’s Tallahassee is a cowboy type figure with zero tolerance for stupidity. His singular pursuit of Twinkies helps give a human element to the man who generates most of the visceral thrills in the movie. Eisenberg’s character, on the other hand, feels much more relatable to our age group. An awkward college student, Columbus is well versed in World of Warcraft, but terribly inept in the world of women, or any social sphere it seems. He seems out of place when he shows up as the narrator at the film’s outset. How’s a college geek with little to no combat experience one of the last living people in America (which Columbus has dubbed Zombieland in wake of the infection)? As Columbus explains, there exists a list of rules by which he abides, which range from practical safety tips (Rule # 4: Always put on your Seatbelt) to extra measures against the hordes of infected (Rule # 2: Double tap: If you’ve downed a zombie, but aren’t sure it’s dead, put an extra bullet in its head just to be safe). Due to these extremely cautious measures, Columbus has survived longer than most, although one could argue with his lack of life experience, he’s “just surviving”.

If zombies represent the apathetic masses, then Columbus and Tallahassee could be metaphors for the different improper approaches Christians might take to combat the hordes of the uncaring. Eisenberg portrays the “play-it-safe Christian”. You know of what I speak; those who are so cautious about sharing their faith and fitting in that one might not even realize their true beliefs save through direct confrontation. Or those that grew up in a protective, Christian environment, and don’t know how to interact/deal with life on the outside, so thus they barely live at all, casting everything outside their bubble as “evil”. Tallahassee, on the other hand, is demonstrating what I like to dub the “One-trick Christian”. Such individuals focus on a singular aspect of the mission, and seem to focus on nothing else, whilst still keeping up the façade of a committed believer. Such examples might include the missionary who cares more for the idea and funds to support the mission than those who support it, or even worse those seeking aid from the mission. Or it could be the legalist, who treats the faith like a list of do’s and don’ts, and to step even over the line a slight bit is to fall into the black. Such archetypes give Christians a bad name, yet they seem to be the only faces of faith the media ever sees. So, at the beginning and throughout most of the first act of the film, neither of the male characters display any sort of image to be looked up to.

Of course, if this was a male’s only zombie hoedown, ticket sales would suffer. Therefore we are introduced to the two female leads, going by the monikers of Wichita (Emma Stone, of Superbad fame) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin), in an intro that both makes you admire and hate the girls. The two female leads help fill out the age spectrum (Breslin’s a 12 year old, Eisenberg and Stone are the college kids, and Harrelson plays the middle aged protector/father figure of the group) and add a sophisticated touch to the very polarized male characters. The female leads act like balancing absolutes to the “faulted Christian archetypes” that are our male leads. Columbus, the “bubble boy” finds something worth fighting for in Wichita, and becomes the hero, breaking out of his “list of rules” (comedic motifs though they are) in order to protect something worthwhile for once, and finally starts living. Tallahassee branches out and starts caring for those around him, which is really the core of Christianity at any rate (the relationship with Christ, and those around you, are the two greatest commandments after all!). And at the end, Eisenberg’s narration concludes a few key ideas; the first of which dictates that who you take the journey with is just as, if not more important, than the journey itself.

All in all, Zombieland was a thoroughly enjoyable ride of a film. Much of this is attributed to Tallahassee’s nearly endless supply of one liners and Columbus’ delightfully quirky narration. The movie also boasts an extremely exciting finale, in which a theme park becomes the battle ground for our survivors, allowing Harrelson to kick plenty of ass, and also sets up Eisenberg to become the hero. Well cast, very funny (this makes a fine American counterpart to Shaun of the Dead), and above all, it has characters that we can believe in, root for, and relate to.

Redemption comes through caring for others and caring for something bigger than one’s own headspace. Christianity is about living for a purpose higher than one’s own, but that doesn’t mean you’re anything greater than human. So, in light of that, always strive to be a better you, and as Rule # 32 dictates: Enjoy the little things!

The White Rabbit

When Paramount Pictures wanted to reboot the Star Trek franchise with a younger cast and a new history, they turned to director J. J. Abrams, creator of both Alias and Lost, and director of Cloverfield. After grossing over 256 million dollars at the North American box office, which is well more than twice the previous best in the Star Trek franchise, Paramount must be very happy with their decision.

Star Trek has plenty to praise. It is very well written, providing a storyline that effectively reboots the franchise without ignoring what has already happened in the Star Trek history (through a clear to understand time-travel-“oh-now-that-he’s-dead-all-of-history-will-be-different” plot device that gives Kirk an understandably new personality). The acting is good, particularly by Zachary Quinto as the emotion-suppressing Spock.

But Abrams deserves a lot of credit. He’s the one who has become the master of creating mystery, as many know from watching Lost. Or think about how the film Cloverfield was marketed. Abrams talked about his use of mystery in a recent TED Talk (more on TED later). He talked about a box of magic tricks he bought (but never opened) when he was a kid, and how that box is somehow more magical because he doesn’t know what is inside. That idea of not knowing what is “inside”, and the potential and hope and infinite possibility that that holds, is the idea behind a lot of what Abrams loves about filmmaking. “Mystery is more important than knowledge,” he says as he expands on the mystery box metaphor, demonstrating his points by showing clips from several films. It is definitely worth checking out.

A little more about TED. TED is a non-profit group committed to spreading ideas that are worth spreading. Their online talks (“riveting talks by remarkable people, free to the world”) are very intelligent, and run the gamut from Technology to Entertainment to Design (the original T.E.D.) and beyond. These talks have found an audience in the millions. They are always interesting and usually range between five and twenty minutes. Want to know ten ways the world could end? How schools are killing creativity? How to mod a Wii remote into an interactive white board? Whether violence is increasing or declining in the world? How we could make cheap liquid-filled eyeglasses to help a billion people see better? Check out this site and I guarantee you’ll find something interesting and inspiring.

(Rating: **** / ****)

It’s 1964, and strict disciplinarian Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep), the principal of a New York City Catholic school, suspects her convivial, progressive supervisor Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) of having an “improper relationship” with the school’s first and only black student. Her paranoia is seemingly confirmed by the young and inexperienced Sister James (Amy Adams), launching Sister Aloysius into a relentless, surprising persecution of Flynn.

Without a doubt (ba-dum-tssssh) one of the most thought-provoking, theologically and ethically dense films I’ve seen in recent years, John Michael Shanley’s Doubt succeeds on so many levels. First and foremost, it’s a fitting vehicle for three of the most talented actors in Hollywood (Meryl Streep, Amy Adams, Phillip Seymour Hoffman) and a compelling introduction (for me, at least) to the actress Viola Davis, whose brief appearance in the film has generated worthy Oscar buzz. At the same time, it’s a dark and compelling discussion of certainty and ambiguity, of tolerance and propriety, of progressiveness and endurance. In addition, it tackles the gender roles still evident in (specifically) the Catholic Church (and, more universally, Christian institutions everywhere). Yes, it’s not terribly “cinematic” (Shanley directs his own adaptation of his own play, which is more than enough literary inbreeding to explain why much of the movie still feels like a play) and it certainly doesn’t provide any easy answers or clear resolutions. But, for me, that’s its best quality.

I saw the film with my mom and brother, and the conversations it subsequently generated were engrossing. It’s a perfect Lost Film, and I can’t wait for similar conversations to crop up on campus later this spring.