Is it getting weird in here, or is it just me?

FILM:

I fell into a vat of weird movies this past week -- and I'm not even ready to talk about The Zero Theorem yet.  The best explanation I can think of for this turn of events is my willingness -- nay, insistence -- on trying movies that it's clear that the haternet has failed to understand.  Sometimes a negative review from an evident moron on IMDb is more motivational than a rave from a reviewer of less distinct pedigree.

Coherence - 2013
Written & Directed by James Ward Byrkit

Perhaps Coherence will live up to its name a little more on a second viewing.  It's not that I misunderstood the concepts involved or even failed to track the twists related to numerous parallel universes opening up, but a sudden change of character in the 3rd Act left me feeling somewhat cheated by the cheapness of resolution, or at least the kind of movie it suddenly decided to turn into.

As a comet is passing extraordinarily close to Earth, four couples gather for dinner.  When the power goes out and their cell phones cease to function, two of them head out to find the only house in the neighborhood that still has lights and to ask to use their phone.  They conclude that they must have gotten lost, because they find themselves back at their own house.  They decide to leave a note at the other house, but before they can leave, they find that someone has left the exact same note on their own door.  What house did they go to?  What house are they in?  How can they know?  And just what the hell is going on here?

Coherence is a puzzle box that may or may not be solvable.  The science of multiple dimensions and the mystery are all pretty fascinating.  Sadly, the characters are much less so.  There are strange and sudden conclusions jumped to, and the one character who seems the most even-keeled of the bunch suddenly goes haywire toward the end.  Sure, we can appreciate part of the choice made, but there's a certain line cross that baffles human behavior without better establishing that within the character.  Yes, I'm being deliberately vague.

I really wanted to like Coherence, but for a movie that put SO much thought into the logic of some elements to put so little logic into its characters simply displayed a lack of, well... [see title].

ETXR - 2014
Written by Herb Ratner & Trevor Sands
Directed by Trevor Sands

Bix the Bug (Samuel Caleb Hunt) is a DJ (but don't call him that to his face, apparently) on the electronic dance music scene.  He's getting by, but struggling to freshen up his sound in order to make that big break he needs.  Bix is a refugee from MIT doing what he loves and hanging out with his idiot manager Danny.  Out of the blue, a former classmate shows up to talk to him about a device he's built, based on Nikolai Tesla's plans for a machine capable of communicating with other worlds, and he needs Bix's help because the signals coming back are more like music than distinct language.  Bix sees the opportunity to exploit the device, a "Teslascope" as the musical breaktrhough he's been looking for.  Danger follows, as a group of radicals, a wealthy investor unaccustomed to taking "no" for an answer and a pair of menacingly friendly agents all get onto Bix's trail.

ETXR is another mystery that fails to stick the dismount, but it had me up until then.  Clocking in at a light 80 minutes, it really could have taken another 10 minutes to explain, oh, anything.  I don't consider myself to be a person who is easily flummoxed by obscure plot points, so I feel fairly confident in saying that ETXR just didn't explain itself, or if it did, it did so in so obtuse a manner that it obscured its own trail of breadcrumbs.  This is a shame, because whatever was going on with Bix and the Teslascope seemed like it should have been pretty interesting.  Something astronomical?  Something spiritual?  A new dawning for mankind?  A fat groove that all the world can dance to?  Nope, The End.  Bummer, dude.

The Scribbler - 2014
Written by Dan Schaeffer
Directed by John Suits

Suki (Katie Cassidy) suffers from multiple personality disorder, but with the help of her therapist and a controversial shock treatment known as "The Siamese Burn" treatment, she is now able to leave the hospital for a new kind of madhouse.  The Juniper Tower (renamed The Jumper Tower by its residents) is a 16 story halfway house for psychiatric patients somewhere between ranting and raving.  It's filled entirely with women (although we only ever see a half dozen of them) and one man, Suki's friend Hogan ("I checked the wrong box" but clearly enjoying the opportunities) with a variety of ill-defined mental conditions.  As we learn from beginning at the end, several residents have exited The Juniper Tower via the express elevator with that one, sudden stop at the bottom, and the investigating officer is convinced that Suki's alter-personality The Scribbler is behind them... literally, in a pushing way.

The Scribbler was, evidently, adapted from a comic book, and it goes all-in on that source of influence so don't go looking for gritty realism here.  You'll get the grit, but realism was the first to be shoved out the window.  Think... a slightly less monochromatic and misogynist Sin City, with all the exaggerated characters and broadly interpreted mental illness.  There's nothing wrong with the stylistic approach.  It befits the deep Noir homage at play.  It spends its time establishing what, exactly, the mystery is, at it's core, and by that time, there are only so many characters still alive to target for blame.  Along the way, the film has changed shape at least twice, deciding in Act 3 to become a twisted superhero tale.  Despite its flaws, I found myself drawn into the story's momentum, largely due to its quirks, but in the end it was the theme of healing and becoming whole that paid off the emotional investment.

Space Station 76 - 2014
See link for Writing credits
Directed by Jack Plotnick

Space Station 76 takes place in the kind of future imagined by the 1970s.  Just don't expect it to behave like a science fiction movie or you will surely think you've been tricked.

Jessica (Liv Tyler) is the newest arrival at Space Station 76.  She's to be the second-in-command to to Captain Glenn, who is coping poorly with the departure of her predecessor, Daniel.  In fact, the only person having a harder time with her arrival than Captain Glenn are all the women on board, who are struggling to get their heads around the idea of a female officer.  Most disturbed by this is Misty, who spends more time trying to self-actualize with the help of Dr. Bot than raising her curious and lonely daughter, Sunshine.

Virtually everyone on the station is unhappy, largely because of themselves, and this shapes the core of the film.  It really isn't a plot-driven vehicle, but a sketchy ensemble piece where characters continue to search for happiness outside themselves, generally doomed to self-sabotaging failure.  This is the theme that most strongly ties the film to its 1970s tone and influences, as demonstrated by Dr. Bot's prescription of "Valium... as much as you want."

I would have liked a little stronger plot line that developed some of the relationships better (through interaction), but all in all I enjoyed it.  Those who expect it to be a "pew-pew" sci-fi or a "hyuk-yuk" comedy will be disappointed, and I question whether anyone who didn't live through the 70s will really get the satire, but for the most part, I found the space oddity to be a source of appeal.

Why Can't I Be You?

TELEVISION: Dollhouse
Created by Joss Whedon
Fox Television 2009-2010
IMDB


Dollhouse is sort of the unloved child in the Whedon family of entertainments.  Which is not to say that Whedon himself didn't love it, but amongst Whedon's fans, it seems to be the most unappreciated.  Joss Whedon, for those fingers not quite so on the pulse of modern media culture, is the writer and director behind Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly, Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog and a little arthouse number called The Avengers.  The first four tend to be referred to in proximity to the term "cult favorites" while the latter often comes paired with "blockbuster."  Dollhouse carries neither of these descriptors, though it shares "ill-fated" with Firefly.  Unlike Firefly, however, it actually gets where it's going.  This isn't a dig at Firefly (although it might be a dig at Firefly's overly abbreviated cinematic follow-up, Serenity) but a credit to Whedon for having open eyes when dealing with Fox again. 

The concept of Dollhouse can be a little complicated to explain, but once you've had it explained then witness it in action, it all makes sense.  You can tell someone what it's about, but like Wheedon's other shows, the greatness is in the execution ("It's about a high school girl that fights vampires!"  "It's a western in space!"  "Uh, those sound dumb, dude."  "No, you have to SEE it!")

The Dollhouse is a super secret company for ultra-rich clients.  They take the young and beautiful and wipe their minds clean, so that they can be imprinted with any identity their clients desire.  A "doll" or "active" may be a dream lover one day, a super spy the next, and a dead spouse the day after that.  While they're in the Dollhouse, however, they are essentially blank slates; docile children.  Part of the fun of the show is seeing how they come up with ways to use the dolls that don't amount to an endless stream of prostitution gigs.  That's the premise, but that's not what the show is about.  The pattern is established right off the bat, but that pattern begins to change.  Things don't always work the way they're supposed to, but there's also a lot more going on under the surface, both of the characters and the plot.

The central character is Echo, a doll played by Eliza Dushku (Buffy's Faith).  She does a more than serviceable job in the role, although her characters tend to end up being versions of herself, so we get all-business Boston girls, super-excited Boston girls, quiet or scared Boston girls, brash and sassy Boston girls -- you get the picture.  For me, the real scene stealer of the show is another doll, Victor, played by Enver Gjokaj.  The fact that he has no other star credits for me to explain to you where you've seen him is a dead shame.  He plays each personality as a whole new character -- Russian mobster, suave British ladykiller, US Marine, other cast members -- each with absolute conviction, so much so that I was left with no idea who the actor really was.  He perfectly embodied the premise of the dolls.  I can only assume that the reason casting directors aren't calling him more is that they don't know how to say his name.

Victor eventually begins to develop feelings for another doll, Sierra; something they are not supposed to be able to do.  Therein lies much of the fabric later in the series.  The show isn't about the Dollhouse, but about being human in the environment of the Dollhouse.  Beyond the dolls, which don't (or aren't supposed to) have personalities of their own, there is the supporting staff.  Another strong performance comes from Olivia Williams as Adele DeWitt, the director of the house.  She, in her very professional way, has completely skipped over moral compromise to convince herself that the Dollhouse does good things.  She delivers some real pressure-cooker moments.  The scientist in charge of the lab that programs and deprograms the dolls is an unsurprisingly spazzed-out young geek who comes to develop more dimensions through the course of events he considers himself removed from -- literally above it all in his glass-fronted lab above the house's living environment.

We are introduced to much of the Dollhouse's operations through the eyes of Echo's new "handler" who is responsible for her well-being when she's away from the house.  Rounding out the core staff is the ruthless head of security, Mr. Dominic.  The fly in the ointment is FBI agent Paul Ballard.  After a divorce and the loss of a partner, Ballard has become obsessed with a dead-end, probably-just-an-urban-myth case; the Dollhouse.  Mysterious information has sent him in pursuit of a missing college student named Caroline, whom he believes to be trapped there.  This character, while deeply important to developing the plot, is one of the weakest.  His obsession doesn't seem to be as well explained or supported as it should be for such a pivotal character.  I'm not altogether sure whether this is due to poor development on the writing end, or if he's just not that interestingly played by Tahmoh Penikett (Helo from Galactica).  The character seems like a trainwreck, and not the appealing kind.  I have to assume it's intentional, since characters in the show actually comment on the weirdness of it.  Nevertheless, a lot of the most interesting story beats depend on him.

As an informant tells Ballard, "That's what the Dollhouse does, but that is not its purpose," and indeed, what the show is ultimately about is what happens, not what it is.  Developing its plot in similar territory as X-Files and Lost, Dollhouse is a big birthday cake of conspiracy and double-cross.  Unlike those other shows, however, Dollhouse knows what its conspiracy is from the very beginning and sees it through to the end.  Upon rewatching, there were elements in the very first episode that would only make sense in the context of the finished product.  Lasting only 2 half seasons, there was no need to overstuff the series with meaningless sidetracks and dead-ends (yes I mean YOU, Lost).

Virtually every character surprises us at one point and/or another.  There are double and triple-crosses and distinct arcs of personal growth for everyone in what becomes a very, very screwed up sort of family.  All of Whedon's series deal with themes of family, but Dollhouse is probably the most mature and dysfunctional of the lot.  Characters start at-odds but grow together out of respect or understanding, expedience or love.  They discover not simply who each other are, but who they are themselves, and what that means.  Among all the changing directions in character, the last and most surprising is also the hardest to swallow.  This seems to have been the biggest single concession to fitting everything in before time runs out, or simply an afterthought, because a repeated viewing yields no signs that [character in question] has been anything other than [character in question] had appeared to be, even in [character in question]'s private moments.  Ironically, [character in question] is the first one who really sees their group as a family.

The critic Roger Ebert, in reviews of Wings of Desire and the "Up" documentaries, discusses, as the "central meaning of life" the questions "Why am I me and not you?"  Amid all the action and melodrama, Dollhouse considers this question as well.  Not merely "Why am I me and not you?" but "Am I still me when I'm not longer me?" and "Who am I when I'm you?"

Speaking of Ebert, in the Ebert & Roeper review of one of the Hellboy films, he raised the question of what would really happen if the bad guys won, if the great threat came to be.  Time and again in films there's the moment where characters discuss the unimaginable consequences should the good guys fail.  Joss Whedon must have been paying attention too.  There are two episodes set years after the main body of the series that show the aftermath of the conspiracy come to fruition (yes, I'm being deliberately vague).  As is Whedon's way, there is penance and redemption to go around, as well as love hard-earned.