After a nearly two-week hiatus, I’m climbing back on the blogging wagon. I really should say something about the execrable Kelo decision. And I’m tempted to jump into Will, Brad, and Julian’s fascinating exchange about utilitarianism. But instead, I’ll complain about Batman Begins. WARNING: Spoilers ahead!
Early in the movie, the Legion of Shadows is presented as a vigilante crime-fighting society. It fights evil, but is willing to employ unsavory methods to do so. Specifically, its leaders have concluded Gotham breeds so much evil that it must be razed entirely. Now, that’s not my complaint. The best villains are those who think they’re in the right, and the excessive willingness to crack eggs to make omelettes has a venerable history in literature (think Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar).
So, how does the Legion set about destroying Gotham? After Henri Ducard (Liam Neeson) reveals that he is the real Ra’s Al-Ghul, the Legion’s chief, he explains to Batman that the Legion has been trying to bring down Gotham for decades. And what tool did they use? Economics, he says. The Legion engineered a depression to create an underclass that would turn to crime.
Now hold on a cotton-pickin’ minute. The Legion wants to destroy Gotham because it’s a crime-ridden cesspool. Okay. But how did it get that way? If Al-Ghul’s story is true, the Legion made it that way. Before the Legion started mucking with Gotham’s economy, it was presumably not so criminal and corrupt. The Legion created the crime problem, and then used the problem to justify the overwrought solution. Oh, and by the way, the out-of-control crime is also part of the solution, since the plan involves letting fear-crazed felons tear down the town.
In short, the Legion is both diabolical and utterly incoherent. Incoherent villains are rife in the movies, of course, so I normally wouldn’t complain. But in this case, the Legion is supposed to be frightening precisely because it seems rational in its own fanatical way. Bruce Wayne finds the logic of the Legion’s position compelling, as indicated by his own willingness to remain a vigilante (even after saving Gotham from destruction). Making the Legion irrational cheapens it as a villain.
Incidentally, I don’t share Joe Salerno’s objection to the idea that a depression could be engineered. Although the movie does not specify the economic tools used for that purpose, it’s not hard to find them. Lousy Federal Reserve policy would do the job, as Salerno admits, but there are microeconomic routes as well. To make an economy crumble, you simply have to undermine the factors that create and sustain it. Outlaw the sale of valuable goods and services, thereby fomenting a blackmarket. Stop enforcing contracts and property rights, or enforce them in a haphazard and unreliable fashion. Raise taxes to discourage productivity. Erect regulations that stifle business formation and employment.
What is more objectionable is Al-Ghul’s suggestion that the Legion’s plan was stymied by the generous philanthropy of people like Bruce Wayne’s father. If you’ve succeeded in weakening the foundations of a strong economy, as per the recipe above, then philanthropy won’t do much good. Giving people free stuff doesn’t create wealth, and thus cannot address the root of the problem. At best, it will slow the decline; at worst, it will encourage more dependency.
But the film doesn’t delve into these topics, and that’s probably a good thing. With the Legion’s methods of economic destruction unspecified, I’m free to imagine there’s actually a coherent underlying economic theory. What I find more difficult to get past is the internal inconsistency of the Legion’s plan to destroy Gotham for evils deliberately stoked by the Legion itself.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Batman Begrudged
Monday, January 12, 2004
The Anal Movie Critic, Guest Edition
I’ve often used this space to critique films from a politico-economic perspective. But here’s my brother Neal’s take on “The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King” from a linguistic perspective [note 1: the adolescent-girl speech pattern is deliberate] [note 2: warning, spoiler alert]:
Like, you know what would've been cool? When Eowyn is trying to get a can of whup-ass open on the master Ringwraith? And he says, "You fool! No man can kill me!", and then Merry sticks him in the calf with his sword? And he drops Eowyn, and she pulls off her helmet and her long golden tresses fall down upon her shoulders? And she says, "I'm no man!" and shoves her sword right into his helmet?Of course, word games have a long pedigree in literature, as my cousin Todd recognizes in his reply to Neal:
Like, he should have said, "Foolish girl, to think you can overcome me with your silly word games! Don't you know that when I said 'man' I didn't mean 'male'; I meant 'human'! Now you die!"
Yep. If they'd been speaking a language like Latin (with 'vir' vs. 'homo') or ancient Greek (with 'aner' vs. 'anthropos'), they wouldn't have had this confusion.
Yeah, and if Macbeth had said, "Macduff, you dumbshit, Caesarians don't count!"(Actually, I think he means Caesarians do count [as “of woman born”], but you get the idea.)
Another, more recent example comes from the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A prophecy says that Slayer will face the Master (a very powerful vampire) and die at his hands. Well, it turns out the writers of these prophecies had a different definition of death -- one that doesn’t account for modern resuscitation techniques. Buffy faces the Master, and he chokes her to death. Minutes later, a friend revives her with CPR, and she comes back to kick the Master’s ass. I like this story better than the others (“no man” and “of woman born”) because the linguistic ambiguity results from a historical change in what it actually means to be dead (at one time, what happened to Buffy would indeed have been considered death), as opposed to a linguistic ambiguity that would have been apparent even at the time the prophecy was made.
Monday, November 24, 2003
The Anal Film Critic: Legally Blonde, Deaf, and Dumb
And as long as I’m giving belated film reviews, I might as well grouse about “Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, and Blonde,” which I saw on the airplane while returning from a conference. I had been avoiding this movie because I figured I would certainly be irritated by its politics. (I don’t generally dodge viewpoints I disagree with, but rarely do I seek them out as entertainment, unless I will get my own turn to speak.) Presented with the chance to see it for free, I figured I’d give it a chance.
The premise of the film is that Elle Woods, airhead and Harvard Law graduate, goes to Washington and tries to pass a law banning the testing of cosmetics on animals. She begins this quest after discovering that her pet Chihuahua’s mother is a test animal. (Question: Are dogs really used as test animals with any frequency? I thought they used rabbits, mice, rats, and chimps most often.) Now, what I expected to see in the movie was a strongly biased case against animal testing: lots of arguments about the alleged inefficacy of such testing, with virtually no representation of the other side. But what I saw was arguably worse. While the movie presents very little resembling an “argument” at all for either side, the handful of quasi-arguments presented are all on the pro-testing side. Several representatives and scientists make at least superficially persuasive statements in defense of testing, all of them left unaddressed by the test-banners. So what carried the day for the anti-testing side? Pure emotional appeal, based on the cute furriness of the subjects. Elle’s cute wittle doggie sticks its head out of a bag and barks, and all the congresscritters melt. (That’s the short version. If you’re a glutton for punishment, watch the whole thing for all the schmaltzy details.)
In short, we are not to judge the wisdom of an animal-testing ban on the basis of clearheaded discussion and scientific facts. Rational argument be damned -- it’s all about the warm fuzzies.
Saturday, November 22, 2003
Anarchy, State, and The Matrix
I saw the third installment of the Matrix during its opening weekend, and I’m going to depart from the conventional wisdom by recommending it. Before watching it, I rented and re-watched the second installment (“Matrix Reloaded”), rewinding as necessary to make sure I understood the confusing bits. Then I viewed “Matrix Revolutions” in the theater and thoroughly enjoyed it. The key is to regard the two movies as one continuous story. WARNING: There are spoilers in the remainder of this post, so don’t continue reading if you haven’t seen the movie yet (and intend to see it).
The original “Matrix” raised a number of interesting philosophical questions, most of which “Reloaded” seemed either to ignore or to confuse. But “Revolutions” brings the philosophical questions back to the fore. The most intriguing question, to me at least, is whether deliberately living in the Matrix can be a valid lifestyle choice. In the original movie, Cipher (Joe Pantoliano) decides that he actually prefers the Matrix to the ugly real world, and he makes a deal with the machines to let him re-enter the Matrix (with his memory suitably wiped, so he won’t realize his reality is only virtual). Readers of Robert Nozick’s “Anarchy, State, and Utopia” will recognize this as a variant of Nozick’s experience-machine thought experiment: would you choose to allow yourself to be hooked up to a machine that would create the mental experience of a blissfully fulfilling life? If your answer is “no” because you’d want to believe that your life and accomplishments were real, or some similar objection, then suitably modify the thought experiment to make that the case (“your memory of having made this choice will be wiped, and the machine will create the belief that you’re living in a real world and your accomplishments are your own”).
The purpose of the thought experiment is to demonstrate an alleged flaw in utilitarianism. If, as utilitarianism posits, happiness is the sole criterion for goodness, then you would indeed choose to get hooked to the experience machine. The fact that most people have an instinctive aversion to the idea of being on an experience machine (or living in the Matrix) is, supposedly, evidence of something wrong with utilitarianism. Any person who would choose to live in the Matrix, like Cipher, must have something wrong with him. Cipher’s deficient character is further evidenced by his willingness to sacrifice Morpheus, Neo, and the other members of the Nebuchadnezzar crew.
And that’s where the philosophy rests – until “Matrix Revolutions.” Between “Reloaded” and “Revolutions,” we discover that the Oracle (previously an unalloyed friend of the free humans) is in quasi-cahoots with the Architect who designed the Matrix. When the Architect discovered that he could not design a Matrix that 100% of all human beings would accept, the Oracle provided him with a means of dealing with the problem. In each generation, a fraction of humans who reject the reality of the Matrix are allowed to escape into the real world, where they join the other free humans in the city of Zion. At some point in the movie, either the Oracle or the Architect (can’t recall which) indicates that every human in the Matrix has, either consciously or subconsciously, chosen to accept the Matrix’s programming. Most people – upwards of 99% – are sheep who willingly accept the virtual reality. Those who reject it are allowed to leave, in the manner of Neo and Trinity. (Periodically, the free human population gets too large, and the machines come to destroy Zion. Carnage ensues, and only ends when the Messiah-like Neo arranges a truce, and the cycle begins once more. But that’s not crucial for the question I’m addressing here.) At the end of “Revolutions,” the Oracle makes sure that the Architect will continue to allow the program-rejecting humans to escape the Matrix.
In contrast to the narrow conception of free will in “The Matrix,” whereby people are only truly free if they live in the real world, we have a broader conception: everyone has the freedom to live in the real world or to stay in the Matrix. True, for the people inside the Matrix, it is a subconscious kind of free will – but they choose nonetheless. Indeed, the presence of choice is the Achilles’ heel of the Matrix, which the Oracle solves by instituting a right of exit.
And in this choosing between different ideas of the good life, we find another connection to the philosophy of Nozick, born of another of his thought experiments: the concept of “little utopias.” Nozick’s idea of the good society is a system in which people can choose what kind of communities they wish to live in, subject to no overarching rule but a right to vote with your feet. The “little utopias” vision finesses the seeming conflict between freedom and the desire of (at least many) people to submit to the controls of religions, creeds, cultures, and governments. In the Nozickian vision, you have the right and the freedom to choose which controls to subject yourself to. And that is, in key respects, the same vision presented at the end of the Matrix saga: you can choose which world to live in, the real world or the virtual. But the latter of those two worlds is one that Nozick himself surmised that most people would intuitively reject: living in the experience machine. And is that so wrong?
Monday, June 02, 2003
The Anal Film Critic
I saw “Bruce Almighty” last night, and it was actually quite funny. Not Jim Carey’s best, but I got a few good belly laughs out of it, which is all I was really expecting. But, as per usual, I have a couple of nits to pick.
Nit #1: The writers of the movie clearly had no concept of how blood typing works. Jennifer Aniston’s character says she should donate blood because she has a rare blood type: AB+. Well, AB+ is indeed rare, constituting only 3% of the population, but that doesn’t make it desirable in the blood banks. People with AB+ blood are universal recipients (they can receive any blood type), but very exclusive donors: only other AB+’s can receive from them. Thus, any blood donated by an AB+ person can only be used by 3% of the recipient population. The type of blood most in demand is O–, because it can be received by anyone – most importantly, people whose blood type is unknown. Also (small spoiler coming), Jim Carey’s character eventually winds up in the hospital and sees that he is receiving AB+ blood. The implication is that he is truly blessed by the fact that AB+ people like Aniston have chosen to donate. But unless Carey’s doctors screwed up royally, he too must be AB+, in which case he could have received blood from anyone.
Nit #2: Okay, you really should stop reading now if you’re averse to spoilers. As I predicted when I first heard the premise of the movie, the only constraint on the use of God’s power is the free will of individuals: you can’t make people act contrary to their own choices. If you’re looking for a half-plausible explanation for why God can’t just snap his fingers and make the world a wonderful place, that one’s not half bad. But the obstacles Carey meets in the movie seem to have little to do with free will. The first major difficulty he encounters is limited cognitive resources: he doesn’t have enough brain power to organize and respond to the millions of prayers he receives each day. But hold on a minute – I thought God was supposed to be omniscient and omnipotent, in which case brain space shouldn’t be an issue. God should be the consummate multi-tasker, able to comprehend and reply to an infinite number of prayers while watching the Grand Ole Opry, reading Mad Magazine, and singing “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor.” [Bonus points for anyone who can name that pop culture reference.] Later, after just granting everyone’s wishes so he won’t have to listen to every single prayer, Carey finds himself bound by little things like economic laws – e.g., when thousands of people win the lottery, each person only wins about $17. Again, this seems like the kind of thing that should be well within the power of an all-powerful being to change. If God can alter the laws of physics, economic laws (and the rules of math, for that matter) should be a no-brainer. And in any case, being omniscient, he should at least have become immediately aware of any undesirable consequences of his wish-granting.
Forgive me, because it’s a bit unfair to hold a lightweight comedy up to rigorous standards of philosophical and theological consistency. If Carey had not encountered the problems mentioned above, the movie would not have been nearly as fun. But I’m sticking to my guns on Nit #1, because O– blood is both rare (only 7% of the population) *and* useful.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Overreach Around
WARNING: X2 spoilers in this post.
If you watched X2 and didn’t catch the mutants-as-homosexuals metaphor, you just weren’t paying attention. That scene where Iceman comes out to his parents (and his mother asks if he’s tried *not* to be a mutant) was rather far from subtle. Still, I think this L.A. Times article pushes the analogy a bit too far. The article’s author sees homosexual metaphors in every character and subplot of the movie, including these:
• Jean Grey is torn between Wolverine and Cyclops, “unable to consummate her love for either.” Hold on a minute -- she did choose, right? And besides, she and Cyclops slept in the same quarters, so I’m figuring they consummated their love on a pretty regular basis. In any case, the love triangle is an incredibly common theme in film and fiction -- does every love triangle now count as evidence of a homosexual subtext?
• After Jean Grey apparently commits suicide “in part due to her own sexual identity conflicts” (huh?), “Cyclops and Wolverine are forced to console one another, though they cannot make direct eye contact.” But it’s well known that heterosexual men (including non-mutants) aren’t overly prone toward displays of emotion toward each other. That commonplace observation hardly qualifies as a covert message about homosexuality.
• This one’s my favorite: one scene in the movie features “a phallic symbol in the shape of a soda bottle, handed from one character to another who blows on it to make the soda cold.” And here I thought we’d outgrown the Freudian notion that every elongated shape represents a penis.
This article’s author is so eager to impute a particular social message to X2 that he actually undersells the movie. Yes, there was a homosexual metaphor in X2 -- and also a race metaphor, a war-on-terrorism metaphor, a clash-of-cultures metaphor, and probably a few others I didn’t catch. Procrustean literary criticism only obscures the thematic breadth of the film.
Wednesday, May 07, 2003
XY-Men and XX-Women
I saw “X2” over the weekend -- twice -- and the rumors are true: it’s fantastic, even better than the original (which I liked quite a bit). So many bloggers have already commented on this subject that I can’t begin to link them all; check out Jacob Levy’s post for a sample. (When I read Jacob's post yesterday, it had lots of links to others’ posts, but they seem to be gone now.)
However, I am constitutionally incapable of watching a movie, even a great one, without picking a few nits. (Don’t worry -- no major spoilers here.) At one point in the movie, a character states that the “mutant gene” is carried on the Y-chromosome, and hence is passed only from fathers to children. I’ve been trying to find a way that this could make sense from a genetic standpoint, and I’ve failed.
First, since only men have Y-chromosomes, we would have to conclude that *only men can be mutants*. X-linked traits like hemophilia and colorblindness can be possessed by either sex, because both men and women have X-chromosomes. But Y-linked traits can only be possessed by men. But we know that there are numerous female mutants in the movie, so it can’t be true that the mutant gene is Y-linked. (Incidentally, my college biology professor told me that biologists have only discovered one Y-linked trait: hairy ears. But that was back in 1995, so maybe they’ve discovered more Y-linked traits by now.)
Second, something is fishy about the idea that changes in *one* gene could result in all the many different mutant powers we observe in the movie, from teleportation to weather control to fast healing to body morphing. Some are mental, others physical; it’s pretty odd that they would all be controlled by the same gene. Gene interactions are certainly possible, though, so perhaps it works like this: the “mutant gene” interacts with the other genes in one’s body to produce a variety of different phenotypes (expressed traits). This still doesn’t overcome the men-only problem, though.
Here’s a more complicated explanation: there is a single gene, found on the Y-chromosome, that causes mutations to occur in genes on *other chromosomes*. This mutation-inducing effect only occurs during the process of meiosis in the male’s germ cells. As a result, a child can only be born with mutations (of the super-power variety) if her father possessed the mutant gene. This explanation works, except for one problem: once a female child is born with a mutation in her non-Y chromosomes, she can pass it on to her children (unless she’s sterile). So even if super-power mutations had their origin in the mutation-inducing effects of a Y-linked trait, the mutations themselves would not be Y-linked and could be passed on by either men or women.
One more nitpick about the movie: I think they changed the nature of Storm’s powers. In the original movie (and, as I recall, the comic book), it is strongly implied that Storm can only control the weather when she has a direct line of sight to the sky. (Warning: minor spoiler from the first movie coming.) When Sabretooth pins her against the wall of the train station and starts choking her, she is unable to hit him with a lightning bolt until Cyclops accidentally blows a hole in the roof. Yet in the current movie, she causes major weather effects inside a room that is entirely closed off from the outside world.
Friday, January 17, 2003
The Anal Film Critic
I thought I had the whole Disney Dalmatian movie nomenclature straight. The original 1961 animated movie was called “One Hundred and One Dalmatians.” The 1996 live-action version with Glenn Close was called “101 Dalmatians.” And, just to confirm the alphabetic v. numeric distinction, they made a live-action sequel called “102 Dalmatians.” I figured if they ever made an animated sequel, it would be called “One Hundred and Two Dalmatians.” But now Disney’s just released a straight-to-video animated flick called “101 Dalmatians II.” And after doing a little poking around, I discovered that they’ve given the original 1961 animated version an alternative title, “101 Dalmatians,” which is indistinguishable from the 1996 live-action title. (I haven’t figured out when this renaming took place.)Am I the only one who’s bothered by this kind of inconsistency and confusion? Is anyone else still bothered by the fact there’s a movie called “Rambo III” when there was never a movie called “Rambo” or “Rambo II”? And am I myself being inconsistent when I grouse about Stephen Spielberg’s having renamed “Raiders of the Lost Ark” as “Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark” to achieve retroactive consistency with the subsequent Indiana Jones movies?