Heroes Revisited
Written Tues. Nov. 14th, submitted: Mon. Nov. 27th
Ok, you don't have to believe that I wrote this earlier, but here it is.
My early expectations for plot have not gone completely askew, and my initial look at Heroes has not really gone wrong with respect to the general direction of the show, however, I now must admit, ahem, I did not stop watching at 3 shows. Nope; I am now addicted. I am totally ready to save the Cheerleader. We have now gotten a glimpse into the world of the Dad.
He was not who we expected now, was he. There are moments still when he makes the blood run cold as he looks through windows on what’s going on with the other characters. He is always looking through windows, and wears those signature glasses with the wire and black rims, his time period showing no love of modernism and no need of upgrading his appearance to please others. He is always spying, looking in, but as we know now more fully, manipulating and adjusting, and deeply involved in the race to discover the identity and whereabouts of Syler.
Syler, the dark one, the murderer, and demonic-like figure of mystery. We have been set up with a definite line of demarcation between the good and evil, and now that there is a time and a date attached, a showdown of sorts it seems. Next week is supposed to reveal at least the character and nature of this evil being, although I’d feel safe to say at this point not the total purpose of Syler (because there are quite a few shows left ).
But back to the Father. His smiling and knowing protective outer cover will probably come out at some point as well. The mother is absolutely oblivious, I’m sure, her and Mr. Muggles. If she’s in on it I am going to quit watching. But the wide-eyed girl helper who is involved with Mohandas Suresh and the painter and seems to have the gift of persuasion, and the quiet dark man that always seems to be the backup for the Father and “cleans people out” of their memory, while at first all seeming to be the suspected evil scourge, now seem more to the point to be the very good guys themselves.
So ok, now I’m going to go off into speculation. Before, I had estimated that this would be one more piece of postmodern mishmash with a pluralistic and pantheistic god omnipresent in the background, neither good nor bad but shifting in perfect harmony with the tides of metaphysical force and subatomic energy. Along with that is the basic atheistic materialist belief that the people involved are all subject to the domination effect of evolution, and that given it’s course we all can evolve in our abilities, and that sooner or later there could develop in us, by the pantheistic god’s effect and the shifting of the planets (notice the eclipse motif in the painting by the heroin addict, and the appearance of an eclipse in the second adventure, also of note the obvious circular planet effect in the show’s title sequence) a wave of supranormal abilities, shifts in time and space, and physical interactions through the body and minds of certain individuals, few at first, and then growing into a pandemic. The conclusion that the story seems that it has been heading for philosophically is that we are all superheroes, and if we can tap into the great metaphysical force all around us, nurture belief in the human mind, and believe in the triumph of goodness in the human person, then we can “evolve” into better mankind. I still pretty much believe this.
Notice please the fairly consistent pattern of duality in the characters. There are many who have a dark side, an unseemly persona, and personal weakness, even if it’s as simple as Hirohito’s naiveté’, or as deeply disturbing as what looks like demon possession by the painter, or the dual-personality of the blonde mother. And the surprises never seem to stop popping up as to who has abilities; take for instance DL, the blonde’s husband “escaped” from prison and “appearance” in the house. Seems like the eclipse brought on a wave of the supernatural.
So my early estimation was such, but now I’ve gotten a slight glimpse of something more. This is where the writing of the show is getting deep, and me, I’m always digging it seems deeper than may be there. I have this strange, almost supernatural ability it seems, as a media critic, to see beneath the layers of lens flares, special FX, and rhetoric. Hmm, maybe I’m growing in this ability?
Let’s just imagine for a moment that the Father is a type of God. He has an investment in the Cheerleader because she represents innocence and good, kind of like the Church. He is doing everything he can to protect this relationship and keep it intact, whole, like a family. He seems to have near omniscience, and omnipotent ability in getting around and getting to the right people. He certainly knows much more than Dr. Suresh ever knew. And here is where I think the story may go in another twist – I predict that the older Dr. Suresh is not really dead. He simply had to go into hiding and is working with the Father.
I still stand by my early prediction that this group of Heroes will band together to form a “league” if you will of working heroes, and now I believe that the Father will be their leader, and that their arch enemy will be this Syler, along with maybe many others that are also evil but less talented in their abilities, just like the good guys grow and learn about their talents and learn to harness them.
So we have a couple of metanarratives within the scope of the story already, and 2 of them very familiar with American culture: the story of the Church, and salvation and a watching over by a benevolent God cast against an unspeakable evil which wishes to destroy it, and also the Cheerleader as a type of America the Beautiful, and the preservation of freedom and purity. But these are narratives which I believe in the end the story of Heroes will try to enclose or envelop within the supposedly larger narrative of the godless mass of pantheistic physical nature, the yin and yang of balance, and the consummation of complexity and chaos theory. Will one win out over the other? We shall see.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
book review
Greil Marcus seems to be waging an internal war and then displaying it on his own canvas. But he is doing it in a sort of Jackson Pollack kind of way. The cohesiveness must be all there, we tell ourselves, and we can see it, somewhat, but it is fraught with conflict that when pieced together is giving a picture in total of a cynical heart; a jaded soul. The three narrative historical landmark speeches he is using as foundation for his painting are all hopeful yet simultaneously dire warnings; all inspirational and incendiary. But he seems to spend a great deal of his initial energy separating the zeal and hopefulness of the speeches from a swathe of reality that he places liberally on the canvas in grey or black tones, separating as in distancing, in order it seems to point out the inevitable failure of the Union, the very grey-blue notion of America as only an idea, and not realized.
I am supposing after the initial burst of cynicism and a generally negative spirit, because of the title, itself being prophetic in nature and presupposing an answer, that Mr. Marcus is going to somehow redeem his text with some sort of replacement, revision, or reenactment of historical events that will enlighten us as to how it should be, was really, or could have been. It is yet to be seen what direction his “answer” will be to these supposed “voids”, but because he has written a book I’m supposing he has one. Or will he? Please tell me that this will not be another one of those high-language intellectual thrillers that destroy the past and current American system and waylay all paths of possible return to a reasonable rescue under that system, and then leave us to our own devices as to a solution, or offer very little in the way of redemption. I’ve seen this before. A writer of no mean political and intellectual talent splatters their frustration over the canvas with abandon, and then leaves the painting dripping red and black and blue; no flowers, no pointers to signposts up ahead.
But then again, I’m only on page 39.
Greil Marcus - The Shape of Things to Come - Prophecy and the American Voice
Greil Marcus seems to be waging an internal war and then displaying it on his own canvas. But he is doing it in a sort of Jackson Pollack kind of way. The cohesiveness must be all there, we tell ourselves, and we can see it, somewhat, but it is fraught with conflict that when pieced together is giving a picture in total of a cynical heart; a jaded soul. The three narrative historical landmark speeches he is using as foundation for his painting are all hopeful yet simultaneously dire warnings; all inspirational and incendiary. But he seems to spend a great deal of his initial energy separating the zeal and hopefulness of the speeches from a swathe of reality that he places liberally on the canvas in grey or black tones, separating as in distancing, in order it seems to point out the inevitable failure of the Union, the very grey-blue notion of America as only an idea, and not realized.
I am supposing after the initial burst of cynicism and a generally negative spirit, because of the title, itself being prophetic in nature and presupposing an answer, that Mr. Marcus is going to somehow redeem his text with some sort of replacement, revision, or reenactment of historical events that will enlighten us as to how it should be, was really, or could have been. It is yet to be seen what direction his “answer” will be to these supposed “voids”, but because he has written a book I’m supposing he has one. Or will he? Please tell me that this will not be another one of those high-language intellectual thrillers that destroy the past and current American system and waylay all paths of possible return to a reasonable rescue under that system, and then leave us to our own devices as to a solution, or offer very little in the way of redemption. I’ve seen this before. A writer of no mean political and intellectual talent splatters their frustration over the canvas with abandon, and then leaves the painting dripping red and black and blue; no flowers, no pointers to signposts up ahead.
But then again, I’m only on page 39.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
The Fountain - Darren Aronofsky - release Nov. 22, 2006
This was a great piece of art work in motion, and certainly a great story, but it was not a cinematic masterpiece. Art meets science fiction meets Darren Aronofsky meets real science through the eyes of the microscopic special effects. Nice. But is the North American crowd ready for art alone to stand? And also, I believe that Darren, still a growing director, has not shown us maturity in this piece for the simple fact that he does not trust his own work yet. His reliance upon repetitiveness was taken as style in Requiem, but in this piece I saw it as tedium and unnecessary. I’m not sure of what everyone else thought, but I “got it” early on and connected his dots, and did not need the many consistent reminders. The dots I did not connect were purposeful on his part, and well done. I'll explain that a little later in this article.
Darren has a fascination with symbolism in all of his work so far. This one was cinematically straightforward and powerful. All of the themes were central, circular, rotational, and consistent. One cannot deny the visually adept eye of Darren’s cinema awareness and his ability to craft an almost totally visual story. You could easily make a hundred or more wall-hangings from this work suitable for framing. Candles and deep black were abounding, and rich textures reminiscent of Rembrandt. Kudos to the furniture, costume, and lighting people. Huge accolades to the Cinematographer. This one could be up for set and wardrobe Oscar.
I’ve just sat through a vision that is quite beautiful, and certainly metaphysically complete. While the vision that I’m left with is of Buddhist completion, circles within circles, it lends credence and understanding to the Christian bedrock story of the Tree of Life as well. Brining it home, Aronofsky leaves us with reality, and dealing with death, and the promise of life. This giant allegory draws upon both traditions to simply illustrate the holistic principle of life from death, and the relinquishing of life has never been so visually stunning. This was a great offering from the standpoint of art and it’s ability to bring about the heightened awareness of spirituality without actually saying a word. And speaking of words, there were indeed very few. The lush visuals did all the talking. Ultimately we are left with hope and promise, and the vision of life beyond where we live. The fearless face of beauty and love squares against strife and anxiety and the face of science and our machinations against the reality of death. The winner is life, but on it’s own terms, God’s terms.
The ultimate failure of the tree, even at the end, I believe was not necessarily the failure of the story of the Garden of Eden’s Tree of Life, but rather the ultimate subjugation of the human story to that of death, and re-birth in another life. The Doctor’s strivings prove to be fruitless. His striving to find the source, just like that of the Spanish conquistador, and his ultimate acceptance, to “finish it”, to write that 12th chapter, was a transcendence that we all must face. Flowers do indeed grow from the ground. “Unless a seed fall into the ground and die it cannot produce fruit”.
The final scene of the star was reminiscent of the final scene in the film Brainstorm, which also took the partaker of that vision, in that case Christopher Walken, into the world of the eternal and was like the enfolding of eternal space upon space, a never-ending light and folds of light. This beautiful and yet limited vision of the eternal is about as descriptive as cinema can get visually, metaphorically. But because of the somewhat overdriven visuals I was left with the same effect that Big Fish had upon me; I knew it was fake, but I loved it anyway. And I stayed with the story because of the illustrations’ strength.
Yet there was much to be desired in regard to the story. I am putting pieces together in the aftermath. During the first viewing I wanted to know more about the future hero and his world. I wanted to know where that bubble starship came from. I wanted to see the background of just how that ship was created, and where he got the tree of life from, and how it was that he knew to take it to the galaxy. Was he indeed the year 2000 man, still alive? It turns out he had the original and faded tattoo, and the place where the ring was prior to it’s theft. That did not become completely clear until the end. The now extremely fragile-looking and worn pen that he used spoke of the years, and so I’m assuming that he was the original Dr. that did surgery on monkeys. And so Darren is here attempting to draw us on with the suspense and the fairly thin line of mystery about this future space traveler. That was actually a good ploy. It worked.
It does work, however I think it might have been fine, would have helped somewhat, to just simply show the context of that world to some degree, to see an origin of that time. Maybe just a shot of his preparation and takeoff from planet earth with the tree in partial bloom, and other people of similar nature watching him go, a larger-scaled vision of the world of 2600 that he finally comes to live in. And if indeed he was the inheritor of that tree, just how was it that only he could take it off-world and to it’s origin? There are many questions that never get answered. Those details don’t really need to be in the film itself. But the answers to these puzzles, indeed some of the questions do not come until reflection later. This is a great reflective piece, and may be lost on some younger audiences without sufficient background to understand either religion, death, cancer, experience with love, or other more mature themes.
I’d say for all of the above reasons while the story was certainly well-rounded, was succinct, it lacked scope (not depth – it’s plenty deep), but was also a visual feast worth seeing for it’s beauty and poetic, lyrical vibrancy.
This was a great piece of art work in motion, and certainly a great story, but it was not a cinematic masterpiece. Art meets science fiction meets Darren Aronofsky meets real science through the eyes of the microscopic special effects. Nice. But is the North American crowd ready for art alone to stand? And also, I believe that Darren, still a growing director, has not shown us maturity in this piece for the simple fact that he does not trust his own work yet. His reliance upon repetitiveness was taken as style in Requiem, but in this piece I saw it as tedium and unnecessary. I’m not sure of what everyone else thought, but I “got it” early on and connected his dots, and did not need the many consistent reminders. The dots I did not connect were purposeful on his part, and well done. I'll explain that a little later in this article.
Darren has a fascination with symbolism in all of his work so far. This one was cinematically straightforward and powerful. All of the themes were central, circular, rotational, and consistent. One cannot deny the visually adept eye of Darren’s cinema awareness and his ability to craft an almost totally visual story. You could easily make a hundred or more wall-hangings from this work suitable for framing. Candles and deep black were abounding, and rich textures reminiscent of Rembrandt. Kudos to the furniture, costume, and lighting people. Huge accolades to the Cinematographer. This one could be up for set and wardrobe Oscar.
I’ve just sat through a vision that is quite beautiful, and certainly metaphysically complete. While the vision that I’m left with is of Buddhist completion, circles within circles, it lends credence and understanding to the Christian bedrock story of the Tree of Life as well. Brining it home, Aronofsky leaves us with reality, and dealing with death, and the promise of life. This giant allegory draws upon both traditions to simply illustrate the holistic principle of life from death, and the relinquishing of life has never been so visually stunning. This was a great offering from the standpoint of art and it’s ability to bring about the heightened awareness of spirituality without actually saying a word. And speaking of words, there were indeed very few. The lush visuals did all the talking. Ultimately we are left with hope and promise, and the vision of life beyond where we live. The fearless face of beauty and love squares against strife and anxiety and the face of science and our machinations against the reality of death. The winner is life, but on it’s own terms, God’s terms.
The ultimate failure of the tree, even at the end, I believe was not necessarily the failure of the story of the Garden of Eden’s Tree of Life, but rather the ultimate subjugation of the human story to that of death, and re-birth in another life. The Doctor’s strivings prove to be fruitless. His striving to find the source, just like that of the Spanish conquistador, and his ultimate acceptance, to “finish it”, to write that 12th chapter, was a transcendence that we all must face. Flowers do indeed grow from the ground. “Unless a seed fall into the ground and die it cannot produce fruit”.
The final scene of the star was reminiscent of the final scene in the film Brainstorm, which also took the partaker of that vision, in that case Christopher Walken, into the world of the eternal and was like the enfolding of eternal space upon space, a never-ending light and folds of light. This beautiful and yet limited vision of the eternal is about as descriptive as cinema can get visually, metaphorically. But because of the somewhat overdriven visuals I was left with the same effect that Big Fish had upon me; I knew it was fake, but I loved it anyway. And I stayed with the story because of the illustrations’ strength.
Yet there was much to be desired in regard to the story. I am putting pieces together in the aftermath. During the first viewing I wanted to know more about the future hero and his world. I wanted to know where that bubble starship came from. I wanted to see the background of just how that ship was created, and where he got the tree of life from, and how it was that he knew to take it to the galaxy. Was he indeed the year 2000 man, still alive? It turns out he had the original and faded tattoo, and the place where the ring was prior to it’s theft. That did not become completely clear until the end. The now extremely fragile-looking and worn pen that he used spoke of the years, and so I’m assuming that he was the original Dr. that did surgery on monkeys. And so Darren is here attempting to draw us on with the suspense and the fairly thin line of mystery about this future space traveler. That was actually a good ploy. It worked.
It does work, however I think it might have been fine, would have helped somewhat, to just simply show the context of that world to some degree, to see an origin of that time. Maybe just a shot of his preparation and takeoff from planet earth with the tree in partial bloom, and other people of similar nature watching him go, a larger-scaled vision of the world of 2600 that he finally comes to live in. And if indeed he was the inheritor of that tree, just how was it that only he could take it off-world and to it’s origin? There are many questions that never get answered. Those details don’t really need to be in the film itself. But the answers to these puzzles, indeed some of the questions do not come until reflection later. This is a great reflective piece, and may be lost on some younger audiences without sufficient background to understand either religion, death, cancer, experience with love, or other more mature themes.
I’d say for all of the above reasons while the story was certainly well-rounded, was succinct, it lacked scope (not depth – it’s plenty deep), but was also a visual feast worth seeing for it’s beauty and poetic, lyrical vibrancy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)