Tuesday, March 17, 2015

"I Hate it Here" Appreciating Transmetropolitan

Transmetropolitan is an inspired work of refined madness. The comic series created by Warren Ellis and Derrick Robertson follows the futuristic exploits of Gonzo journalist Spider Jerusalem, the uninitiated may need to take a moment to let the sheer greatness of that name sink in, on his restless crusade for the truth (and drugs). Transmetropolitan has shades of Alan Moore and early nineties Frank Miller but Ellis blazes his own path with this series. My first impression of Spider was that he was just another nineties’ sardonic anti-hero. However a tangled web of political intrigue reveals Spider’s true nature as a caring, earnest, hyper-violent man-child who manages to be strangely endearing. Perhaps more important than Spider himself is the horrifying and wondrous sprawl of future NYC that he reluctantly finds himself in. While the story is driven by an endless gush of new and explosive absurdities, the world Ellis and Robertson have created feels oddly prescient and alive. Ellis’ mash up of genre tropes, social commentary, surreal humor and stylish ultra-violence sets an unprecedented tone for the series that would be difficult to capture as effectively in any other medium.

For all its skull-shattering brashness Transmetropolitan actually offers a fairly nuanced look into the future. Ellis posits a future that rides a razors edge between utopia and urban hellscape. In the real future there is no morally unassailable position, no magic solutions. The future just introduces a different range of compromises, Spider is the personification of this reality. Ellis’s techno-optimism sits comfortably alongside uncompromising bleakness. This is a view of the world that should resonate with contemporary readers. The promise of life changing, reality-altering technology appears closer today then it ever has before. Likewise the dangers to our civilization only appear more inescapable day by day.    

As I mentioned earlier, Transmetropolitan is a truly unique work. Its distinct tone separates it from other more archetypical works of cyberpunk from writers like William Gibson or Bruce Sterling. That being said I would also recommend Ellis’s earlier tonally similar work Lazarus Churchyard. Though it lacks the craftsmanship and diversity of attitudes he later achieved with Transmetropolitan, it’s still worth a read. While not in the cyberpunk genre Ellis’s writing reminded me of The Filth by Grant Morrison, The Filth portrays a similar mix of comic absurdity and futuristic intrigue. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Hard Boiled by Frank Miller, which I imagine had some influence of Ellis’s writing. On a more surreal tangent I want to mention a comic from a similarly original mind, The Incal written by Alejandro Jodorowsky’s, drawn by Mobius. So far very few movies have ever done justice to the scale and insanity of the kind of world created by Ellis in Transmetropolitan.  Without giving anything away The Congress directed by Ari Folman, comes close, as does the razor sharp future satire Black Mirror.  Where movies fall short I think interactive entertainment offers a new opportunity to deliver similar kinds of narrative worlds in a new frontier. From the absurd indie game Jazzpunk, to the beautifully subtle narrative of Transistor to blockbusters like Deus Ex: Human Revolution and Cyberpunk 2077.  




Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Sleeping Beauty and the Disneyverse

This week I’ve revisited Disney’s 1959 animation Sleeping Beauty. I decided to watch this movie for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Sleeping Beauty is unique for it’s stylistic autonomy in the Disney cannon. Walt was largely hands-off in regards to the visuals and the result is an interesting synthesis of flat, angular, medieval illustration and typical Disney form and fluidity reminiscent of the best aspects of UPA. The other reason I wanted to see Sleeping Beauty was that unlike other Disney films I have very little experience of it from childhood. As a result I could enter into the viewing with fresh eyes and make an honest assessment.

Before watching the movie I had a hard time remembering which princess the eponymous Beauty actually was. When I tried to conjure an image in my head all I got was some muddled amalgamation of Snow White and Cinderella. After watching the movie I realized that my initial bewilderment is actually an effective summation of the movie. So she’s the one that’s banished by her father, who loves animals and gets a sleep curse? I guess she’s the blonde one that’s not Cinderella. The fact that Sleeping Beauty is widely considered an enduring classic is a bit perplexing. Eyvind Earle’s backgrounds are just as engrossing to look at now, as they were when they were made. The film is probably one of the most unique and visually complex Disney films of the era. However, the prevailing sense I got after watching it is that behind the excellent animation is a plot-shaped hole filled with discarded bits cobbled together from Disney’s previous fairytale offerings.

A delightful bit of animation by Milt Kahl

Some appealing characterization from Ollie Johnston & Frank Thomas

The plot is driven by happenstance and the characters don’t change over the course of the film, except for Maleficent, who goes from evil witch, to dead evil witch. It is pure uncut good vs. evil stuff. Although she is technically the main character, the Princess Aurora appears in the film for less than twenty minutes, and much of that time is spent crying and sleeping (in that order). Perhaps it is this one-dimensionality that has allowed children to project their own unique fantasies onto the film. But that brings me to a central question what is the fantasy world constructed by Sleeping Beauty?

Princess Aurora and all her musical forest companions are one with the natural order. The characters function within their assemblies without a hitch, brimming with unadulterated pureness and nary a unique thought or spec of agency. Indeed throughout the story the woman cook clean, and child-rear, while the men eat and drink, and stab things with their turgid, heroic swords. The magic kingdom functions without any perceivable influence from the Queen, much less from Aurora herself. The conflict resolves itself without shifting the status quo an inch.

In the last fifty years Disney movies become a right of passage for many children myself included. Looking back it’s difficult to discern Disney’s influence from the haze of childhood nostalgia. The tendrils of Walt’s empire reach far beyond comprehension both personally and in popular culture. The Disney monolith seems to fulfill a need in the cotemporary psyche. It’s Good, clean entertainment, a comfortable, safe brand in the uncertainties of the everyday world, it says this all implicitly. The Disney ideology is really about making a promise to the viewer. A promise of the American dream, retrofitted for boys and girls everywhere, forever. It states that if you act a certain way, if you look a certain way, if you behave a certain way, you will live happily ever after. Not just because you want to, but because it is the right thing. Obviously, the Disney ethos has progressed in some significant ways since the late fifties. The messaging is more nuanced than it was in Sleeping Beauty; the moralizing is less overt, more slickly presented (See Frozen or Big Hero 6). The fact remains however, that Disney and its modern subsidiaries still determine what’s right in entertainment. They don’t abide by the status quo so much as they create it and absorb it. I don’t know whether Disney is a positive force on world culture or on the individuals that consume it but I’m fascinated to see where it all ends up.