The Star Trek XI Rumours

The rumour mill for the casting of the next Star Trek film, a prequel set during Kirk and Spock's early years, has been raging for months with the seemingly implausible notion of Matt Damon playing Kirk. Even though the franchise has finally been removed from Rick Berman's hands and placed in those of Lost creators JJ Abrams (who last week was finally confirmed as directing, not just producing the film) and Damon Lindelof, I found the prospect of a major star like Damon signing on for an iconic character in a moribund franchise to be highly unlikely.

Yet no-one else seemed to think so. Leaving aside the wisdom of resurrecting Star Trek so soon - will the general public respond? - and of recasting Kirk and Spock, to me it was unequivocally daft to consider that such names would ever be attached to Trek, which as much I love it was dragged on interminably since the end of Deep Space Nine. Even in its heyday, big-name stars were elusive (the closest they got was Tom Hanks as Zefram Cochrane in First Contact beforehe had to pull out).

After that brief flight above the clouds in the mid 90s to frolic with the mainstream (making the cover of Time, TNG getting an Emmy nom for Best Drama, FC hitting big), Trek then plummeted like Icarus as far as the public were concerned, back to that nerdy shit that they always scorned. As much as any star loves Trek, I don't see them actually spending a year of their lives filming and promoting it. It'd have to be one hell of a compelling take on the material.

Yet IGN, who have proven and well-placed sources in the industry, have published an article stating that talks with Damon are in an advanced stage. Not only that, but Oscar winner Adrien Brody is in talks for Spock, and Gary Sinise for Dr. McCoy!! The rising James McAvoy is rumoured for Scotty, and he isn't denying it in interviews. Granted, Sinise is in TV spin-off limbo with CSI: New York at the moment, but that's still an incredible lineup for a project like this. Sinise in particular is perfect for his character, as much as anyone can be. Say what you will about the cast's acting abilities, particularly Shatner's, but these guys played iconic figures for 30 years, and no-one else has yet succeeded them, as it would be just audacious to do so.

I'm still highly skeptical that deals of this calibre could be pulled off, and of the demented plan to return to Kirk and Spock's early years (the Enterprise will apparently be under the command of original pilot episode captain Christopher Pike), but I'll be open-minded with Abrams and Lindelof in the mix.

Links of choice

- TV Guide's Michael Ausiello interviews Battlestar Galactica executive producer David Eick about the direction of season three and the recently announced season four (saints be praised!! I just hope that the episodes I have to catch up on after being away bring the show back on to firmer territory than the last few outings). Fear not, there are no spoilers. It seems that the changes coming, starting with the March 4 episode, are so momentous that Moore and Eick are being very careful with what they say.

- James Cameron speaks to Harry Knowles again about the nature of Avatar, and confirms that Sigourney Weaver has a major role.

- the third trailer for The Simpsons Movie is out, and it actually contains a couple of funny gags, which is a nice surprise. I still have next to no faith in this film given the abysmal last 7 or whatever seasons, as I complain ad nauseum to those around me. But the presence of original and long-since departed writers George Meyer and John Swartzwelder bodes well. We shall see.

The Fountain

The Fountain arrived with a whimper in American cinemas in November and Australian ones last month, but the faithful have been singing its praises. Sadly, most critics have rejected the film while apparently failing to even pay attention to it. Darren Aronofsky’s long-gestating follow-up to Pi and Requiem for a Dream is one of the most idiosyncratic films of the last few years but never fails to be one of the warmest and kindest in recent memory.

After a more expensive version with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett capsized when Pitt pulled out, Aronofsky pared down the screenplay’s set pieces and preserved its structure and intent. The reduced budget got him a second greenlight with Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz, but its debut at Venice last year was so divisive it actually provoked a fistfight! Even now it sits at a perfectly even 50% at Rotten Tomatoes. But blah blah, insert spiel here about great films not being appreciated at the time, Citizen Kane, etc. It’s very likely true though. The Fountain feels so little like anything else that it’s a true original, or perhaps even genuinely ahead of its time. Richard Schickel describes Aronofsky superbly as “one of the few American filmmakers who saw the cinema past as a jumping-off point, not a toy store to plunder.”

Tommy (Jackman) is a cancer researcher now dedicated to finding a cure in order to save his dying wife Izzi, who is writing a book about a conquistador in Maya in 1500. We follow that story through interludes with Jackman as noble Tomas and Weisz as Isabel, Queen of Spain, who sends her conquistador on a mission to retrieve the sap of the Tree of Life, which she hears is hidden in a Mayan city. These two strands alternate that of a bald Jackman floating through space in a bubble with the Tree itself, heading towards a vast nebula. The publicity says that this is set in the twenty-sixth century, although the film never states that. But Tommy and Izzi are the principal focus, as Tommy becomes so determined that he misses out on his remaining time with his finally content wife.

Much has been made of the film being morose, and it’s certainly sombre, but gently and calmly so. It’s ultimately about two people and how they contend with love and death, and the film’s science fiction leanings are far less apparent than I expected, given that the futuristic sequences may not even be real. Regardless, although I’m a genre lover, it’s not the SF material or ethos that is entrancing about this film, despite the breathtaking beauty of the space sequences. Aronofsky takes scenes that are largely between two characters and transforms them into a platform for contemplating primal issues in all their vast wonder, all without losing their intimacy. A close-up on Jackman’s lips whispering reassuringly in Weisz’s ear feels like the most delicate thing ever filmed.

Granted, these characters are not as multifaceted as they could be, especially since they have the film virtually to themselves (Burstyn has oddly taken a purely functional role here that has no depth). Tommy’s drive in the face of despair and Izzi’s kindness and wonder are a little one-note, but they don’t detract for two reasons. Firstly, the performances contain enough nuance – particularly when the three Jackman personas are taken together – that they make these people more than real enough. The hunger with which a frightened Izzi kisses her husband and Tommy’s sobs as he crudely tattoos a ring on his finger add a layer of painful reality that takes these characters beyond stock territory. Secondly, the simplicity ties together with the broadness of the film’s themes. To teeter into the intricacies of a relationship drama would miss the grander boat Aronofsky is sailing us on. That’s not to denigrate the insights that such dramas can offer us, rather that films with larger and paradoxically simpler goals require a clearer playing field, which is why there is so little dialogue in the film. Despite the occasional clunky line, Aronofsky maintains that field, and the result is spectacular.

Jackman and Weisz’s performances must be acknowledged, with Jackman turning in by far his best work. It could be said that he just hasn’t had a chance to stretch like this yet, but his work is worthy of an Oscar in itself. It’s a naked performance of despair and awe. Weisz doesn’t have as much to work with as Izzi, but she convinces us of Tommy’s deep love for her without placing her on a pedestal. They have a tremendous chemistry together, which is a relief as they must anchor the film more than any two leads of recent memory.

They are supported by astounding visual beauty. Libatique’s cinematography, from the snowy panoramas to the starlit darkness of the bubble scenes, is breathtaking, as are the chemical reactions filmed to produce the nebula effects. Aronofsky eschews CGI and literally films a natural process, and it’s stunning. Clint Mansell, in his third collaboration with Aronofsky, delivers a score that ranges from the melancholy to the awe-inspiring while remaining wholly consistent. Some scenes are truly made by the music, tipped over from excellence to greatness. It’s an incredible musical achievement.

Forgive a tangent, but it’s been brought to my attention recently that I like inscrutable films, and I was struck by the statement’s accuracy. However, I’d clarify and say that I adore inscrutable films that I can still sense a logic and cohesion behind, films that are a puzzle of consciousness that have a solution, but possibly more than one. Such films somehow lay bare a fundamental truth without coming close to stating it, like the beauty of a landscape that we don’t need to spell out for ourselves, and when we do the superlatives seem weak. Certain films form this connection for us, and it’s a blissful feeling. Once you’ve finished vomiting, I hope you return to read the rest of this.

Some would contend that appreciating the unfathomable in films merely makes someone a sucker for disjointed weirdness that pretends to have a point but was never meant to, someone who will glean meaning from technical experimentation. Maybe so. Maybe I’m a fool for seeing grandeur in The Fountain or Mulholland Drive or The New World. But if that’s the price for such a great reward, so be it.

And after two viewings, The Fountain still stands as a grand vista of knotted confusion. While the credits rolled, I basked without any concerns, but later the questions shuffled in. If the future sequences are real, how did Jackman’s character get the Tree of Life in a bubble, let alone survive that long? At the climax (no spoilers here), how do certain things appear and certain people suddenly become others, literally and otherwise? Does it even matter? And what is Aronofsky ultimately trying to say, if he has specific statements at all as opposed to setting up an arena for discussion? The Fountain incorporates a lot of religious imagery, from Christian to Zen, and that’s only part of the puzzle. I can understand Devin Faraci’s instinctive desire to write a book about this film, although I wouldn’t know where to begin. And Aronofsky conjures all this up in a mere 96 minutes that never feel rushed. I won’t assume as many have that The Fountain will eventually be regarded as a classic – perhaps not enough people will ever see it – but it deserves to be.

The Queen

Many reviewers of The Queen have left their personal politics about monarchism out of their pieces, and so each published viewpoint is suspiciously coloured by the possibility that they harbour some royal love and are happy to see cinema vindicate them at last, given that Stephen Frears and writer Peter Morgan’s The Queen is largely sympathetic to Elizabeth II while critiquing her response to Princess Diana’s death. However, I will not be so restrained. I loathe monarchism and find the British people’s reverence for the royal family unnerving and difficult to fathom. That Americans and other outsiders looking in are fascinated by them as well is even more heinous.

I state this because this will be a strangely middling review. I found The Queen a serviceable film that remains admirably close to impartiality, but am bemused as to why this film exists at all. Of all the major political stories of the last decade, why should this one be dignified with a classy cinematic examination? Even a rational, self-aware monarchist (if such a person exists) must admit that this turbulent decade has been home to far more social upheaval than Diana’s death, War on Terror or otherwise. This was one of my major grievances with The Queen, a film so embedded in real-world context that it becomes difficult to judge solely on its technical merits… hence the political clarification. I could not shake the question of relevance, and since I struggle to find any, The Queen’s rapturous reception and myriad awards is frustrating and mystifying, especially since it is functionally rather than audaciously crafted.

Beginning with Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) meeting Queen Elizabeth (Helen Mirren) following his landslide 1997 election victory, The Queen soon jumps forward a little to chronicle the week following Diana’s fatal car accident in Paris, when Britain mourned and then raged at the House of Windsor’s lack of public response. This is a behind-the-curtain movie, as we watch Blair and wife Cherie debating the merits of the monarchy, Blair trying to negotiate with Elizabeth to appease the public mood, and the queen’s pondering of the problem during her customary holiday at Balmoral, an isolation that only compounds the problem. All sides on the issue are presented by different characters, with Prince Philip (James Cromwell) and the Queen Mother (Sylvia Syms) insisting that no response is perfectly appropriate – why is the public so moved anyway, they ask – and Prince Charles (Alex Jennings) advocating an engagement with the public, believing that times have greatly changed since his mother’s heyday and that an outpouring of public grief should be dignified rather than shunned. Meanwhile, Blair goes from gentle mockery of the monarchy to becoming bewitched by the queen’s stature and dedication.

Frears and Morgan certainly aren’t indulging in a royal lovefest. They have indicated their disdain for the institution, yet decided to make the film anyway. This orientation is readily apparent in the final product, and makes The Queen a great deal easier to swallow and vastly more intelligent than it could have been. Morgan researched and interviewed key players exhaustively to approximate the behind-the-scenes dealings as closely as possible, giving these scenes the densely packed enjoyment of The West Wing without the idealism. But the climactic symbol of the stag is overwrought, offering an unrealistic and unnecessary catalyst for the queen’s ultimate decision. This incident may well have taken place though, so I suppose I shouldn’t quibble, but the sequence does veer The Queen from restraint into the maudlin.

The performances are one aspect that have been rightly praised. Mirren is uncanny as Elizabeth II, impersonating but humanising her without straying from the demeanour we know so well. Her performance is clearly the result of a lot of hard work and deserves to be rewarded. Sheen is also impressive, although seeing an actor portray the very distinctive and still prominent PM is initially unnerving. But Sheen allows us to see past the tics into the keen mind that achieved the impossible. Sadly, the Blair side of things has a similarly clumsy climax as he rages at his staff for failing to sympathise with the queen’s lifelong duty-bound existence. Again, this may have happened, but it sniffs of a cinematic catharsis where a subtle hand would have been more effective.

I’m currently overseas (hence the long gap between updates) and it occurs to me now that The Queen is a perfect airplane movie. It’s a well-made drama that passes the time and still works on those tiny little screens. But this doesn’t warrant the unmitigated adoration, especially the Oscar fuzz. Once again, the entrenched critical establishment have hailed a strong but comfortable film and ignored dazzling innovation. The lack of attention for Children of Men and The Fountain, however unlikely they are as Oscar hopefuls in the current climate, makes The Queen’s success especially aggravating. It’s worth a rent, but not a place in history.