Men In Black
II (***)
review by Ryan Burg
When a collection of worms forms itself into a woman in a Victoria's Secret
ad, the heart of modern cinema leaps to the screen. How does this represent
modern cinema?
1) Brand placement
2) Misogynistic undertones
3) Wit
4) Nicely lifted breasts to form that shadowed area that I used to think was
shades darker than the rest of the skin on a woman's body
Let's go back. I don't know anything about modern cinema. I do know that Men
in Black II is a movie. It was made by a director, some actors, two actresses
and a grip (or three). I'm sure someone produced the film as well. It strays
as far from the formula as an average audience would expect or accept (predictability
and acceptance go hand in hand). The earth is in
danger of being destroyed; a pair of men with big guns save it. As far as I'm
concerned it is as fine a product as corporate America is capable of producing.
The corporate monsters employed witty people to write witty scenes filled with
interesting looking aliens.
I may have hated all this stuff, but I still loved the film. Forget the guy
who did the sci-fi cowboy movie and used to be fresh like a prince. Let go of
the other guy that used to be married to the Barbie looking blonde. Ignore the
cameo from the moon walker himself. Set aside the presence of the high-five
guy from Seinfeld. I have set all these things aside. I will now judge films
with a more enlightened criterion. I've decided to judge all movies by the ratio
of computer-generated characters to actors/actresses. In other words: the number
of ugly people represented in a film divided by the
number of beautiful people writ large on the big screen.
The only characters that matter in MIBII are aliens, and the movie rocks me
hard because of them. Joe Swanberg once claimed to fear the day when computers
would replace actors/actresses. I, on the other hand, have been waiting for
that day all my life. Finally, the ugly people are taking control of the screen.
Every time I watch a computer generated character walk across the screen, a
dog speak, or a cartoon waddle, I feel the pitter-patter of my heart. I buy
porn just to make sure my money goes to the pock-faced little guy who air brushes
thighs all day long. I smile while I watch aliens kill one another, knowing
that a person with some merit is represented before my eyes. Whether that person
is good with dogs, has a talent for complex motion algorithms, or draws well,
I know the person is something more than a pretty face capable of making cheesy
lines sound natural. Each funny looking alien on film represents several funny
looking people who are definitely worth the price of my ticket.
This all connects in to a certain resignation on my part. You see; I have given
up. I realize that I will enjoy movies no matter how intellectual I try to be
while watching them. I realize I will leave the theatre wanting to order my
girlfriend some new underwear and buy myself a new Mercedes Benz. Several years
ago I realized that it is not my wonderful sense of humor that encourages me
to laugh at Super Bowl commercials. Instead, I laugh at them because:
A.) They are designed for me
B.) I am designed for them
Likewise, I now know that society is conditioning me to enjoy its movies while
it conditions its movies to be the kind of thing I would enjoy. This sort of
convergence has been driving economists nuts ever since Adam Smith described
it as an invisible hand. Well, that was a bit different. On any note, I am resigned
to the process. I am no match for the cunning wit of the
scores of Ivy League writers working on each of these movies. My only hope is
CGI. The more aliens I see, the less opportunities film will have to point out
to me my own inadequacies. But I am obviously getting too deep into this issue
for the scope of my MIBII review.
MY CREDO: I will love movies that shelter me from the beautiful people.
As such, I love Men in Black Two. Which is more vacuous, a collection of pixels
ordered by a mathematical algorithm to wear its rendered skin in a life-like
fashion or the notion of merit that Hollywood gives us through its actors and
actresses?
My answer: nothing is more vacuous than all those people whose names I can't
remember.
respond to burg@sas.upenn.edu