Tag: cameron

Skynet once again uses its (apparently not all that limited) time-travel device, this time to send a far more advanced liquid metal T-1000 Terminator back to 1990s L.A., this time to kill the ten-year-old John Connor (played by the extremely annoying Edward Furlong [13], whose voice keeps cracking pubescently and who’s just clearly older than ten), and that the intrepid human Resistance has somehow captured, subdued, and “reprogrammed” an old Schwarzenegger-model Terminator – resetting its CPU’s switch from TERMINATE to PROTECT, apparently [14] – and then has somehow once again gotten one-time access to Skynet’s time-travel technology [15] and sent the Schwarzenegger Terminator back to protect young J.C. from the T-1000’s infanticidal advances. [16]

David Foster Wallace again provides a singularly descriptive sentence; this one for T2. Imagine if all capsule descriptions read like this.

Recall that it’s A.D. 2027 and that there’s been a nuclear holocaust in 1997 and that chip-driven machines now rule, and “Skynet,” the archonic diabolus ex machina, develops a limited kind of time-travel technology and dispatches the now classically cyborgian A. Schwarzenegger back to 1984’s Los Angeles to find and terminate one Sarah Connor, the mother-to-be of the future leader of the human “Resistance,” one John Connor [3]; and that apparently the Resistance itself somehow gets one-time-only access to Skynet’s time-travel technology and sends back to the same space-time coordinates a Resistance officer, the ever-sweaty but extremely tough and resourceful Kyle Reese, to try desperately to protect Ms. Sarah Connor from the Terminator’s prophylactic advances [4], and so on.

David Foster Wallace turns in the most complex single sentence that ever was or ever will be written about the film Terminator.
Source: tetw

True Lies Wide Shut

Every now and then a statement rolls in front of your eyes that you stop and re-read, then think about, and then read again. But it’s the same information every time. Rest assured, I am not making this up:

After he finished making “True Lies,” [director James] Cameron called [Stanley] Kubrick, by then a recluse, and invited himself over. They spent a day, in the basement of Kubrick’s house in the English countryside, watching “True Lies” at Kubrick’s flatbed editing station.

I imagine some of the conversations went like this:

“Yeah, Stan, that 2001 was okay, but, man, take. a look. at this. You are goddamned right I had Schwarzenegger and Jaimie Lee Curtis kiss in front of a mushroom cloud. You are goddamned right I did that. Nobody does that but Cameron! ”

I admire the man for his brass balls (read all about them in the source article in the New Yorker). Coulda been a salesman. (Tough racket.) Also for this:

Cameron was born in Canada, and grew up in a small town not far from Niagara Falls. (He revoked his application for American citizenship after Bush won the election in 2004.)

It’s a great profile. Especially since the author, Dana Goodyear, saw fit to include this gem:

As an instance of feminist iconography it perhaps leaves something to be desired.

Get away from Aliens, you bitch!

The Abyss (without the aliens)

Worth noting, in the run-up to James Cameron’s Avatar (his first movie since the Clinton administration), that old JC is just not a very good writer. Don’t get me wrong: he has great ideas, just shockingly little execution in terms of compelling, believable dialogue and/or dramatic events sequencing (this is totally separate from the ability to film a compelling sequence; it’s the narrative string of those sequences and the dialogue that binds them together that he frequently has troubles with). Rather than give a tick-tock of dull examples (to quote Leo upon ice-breaking: “this is bad!”), let’s just hash one out: The Abyss.

Released in 1989, it follows the travails of a team of deep-sea specialists as they are joined by another team of deep-sea not-so-specialists who hope to investigate the loss of a submarine and its various attendant secrets and the occasional nuclear bomb. The Soviets (yep, still around!) are also snooping in the area, and naturally the two teams each contain exactly 50% of a former couple who still love but cannot love. Mayhem ensues; it’s Die Hard on a submersible platform. [Spoilers ahoy!] Turns out there’s a mess of aliens down there. They are more or less set on destroying the Earth from their abyssine fortress, uh, sooner or later, but are convinced by the selfless act of Our Hero to relent and wait to see how (or if) humanity shapes up (recall that Ed Harris chases the nuke that the SEALs sent down into The Abyss and disarms it with great fortune due to some color-perception issues that crop up at the final moment in glow-stick lighting (see: great ideas, poor execution!)). In the aftermath, both the submersible platform and the alien fortress surface (the latter in the form of a pink-hued paper plate filmed in a bathtub), and everyone is happily reunited.

In the “Director’s Cut” we get an extended sequence of events with the aliens. While it’s inconcievable that it could be a worse ending than that which shipped with the original film: it is. Occasionally, the studio is right to fuck with the film.

Now imagine this:

Same set up. Same basic buildup too: a series of odd things happening with increasing frequency as more time is spent below. Are there aliens out there? We occasionally see some odd lights. Perhaps sea creatures of some unknown kind? The Red Menace? Maybe it’s just a problem with the exotic gas mixture (this, conveniently enough, already is basically a plot-point of the film), and, played along with the also already-in-there SEAL commander’s gradual descent into madness (like Ted Striker, he can’t handle the pressure), we could be made to wonder if, in fact, everyone aboard is just going nuts and there’s nothing out of the ordinary happening down there at all. Plug in a few POV-type fantasias (or are they!?!) at key moments to build on each of these potential explanations. Then have the SEAL commander send the nuke due to his own, personal theories. Ed Harris doesn’t know if there’s something down there or there isn’t, but whether it’s the Roosky or the Alien, he’s not risking it, and he goes anyway. Just imagine the glory of these Cameronian lines:

BUD

Baby, maybe there’s something down there, maybe there isn’t. But we’re going to find out. Soon. And for a long time. Now you go live, goddammit, LIVE!

LINDSEY BRIGMAN POV–VIRGIL ‘BUD’ BRIGMAN DESCENDS INTO MOONPOOL AND VANISHES

LINDSEY

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Later, we have the same choppy, text-based communications as depicted in the real film; he’s reached the bomb. They tell him what to do. And he is never heard from again. Did he get there? The bomb didn’t go off, but maybe it just malfunctioned at that depth. Was it him? Was it aliens? Sea monsters? Red Menace? They are rescued (though without alien help, as occured in the film), but clearly can’t hope to explain any of the many events that happened. Technicians note some minor helium imbalances in the air handling system and some odd organic residues that could…be…anything.

Roll credits.

Tell me that’s not almost infinitely better, ‘Merica. Tragic, mysterious, and action packed. It’s the fucking American Dream.