Titan

Title: The Titan
Directed by: Lennart Ruff
Network: Netflix

Do modern trailers give away too much? The Titan, a direct-to-Netflix sci fi movie by some guy (seriously, this is the only recognizable thing on Lennart Ruff's IMDB page--though he seems to have been more active in German cinema), poses an interesting problem on this score.

Here is the trailer for The Titan: On an environmentally-devastated Earth, a soldier (either Sam Worthington or Channing Tatum) is subjected to genetic modifications intended to make him able to survive on Saturn's moon of Titan. His wife (Taylor Schilling) worries that the unscrupulous scientist leading the program (Tom Wilkinson) is going too far.

Here is the actual plot of The Titan: On an environmentally-devastated Earth, a soldier (either Sam Worthington or Taylor Kitsch ... possibly Jai Courtney?) is subjected to genetic modifications intended to make him able to survive on Saturn's moon of Titan. His wife (Taylor Schilling) worries that the unscrupulous scientist leading the program (Tom Wilkinson) is going too far.

It is, in other words, a movie impossible for the trailer (or this review) not to spoil, a movie that does literally nothing surprising, interesting or original with its premise. This is easily one of the dumbest "cerebral" movies I've watched in ages.

Not only is the plot completely linear and utterly obvious, is it also direly lacking in any kind of meaningful conflict. The Earth is dying. Requisite mad scientist dreams of genetically engineering people to live on Titan. So, right away, his up-front stated intention is to genetically modify people. His secret, dastardly plan is ... to genetically modify people. But, like, more.

The movie starts off with the expected beats--the set up, initial happy scenes as Sam (Rick) and the other 'pioneers' revel in their new abilities, followed by a descent into madness and despair as the real cost of the transformation becomes apparent and then ... um, short chase, easily captured, short chase, easily captured, but then not, for some reason. Our hero Rick (Sam) escapes the clutches of the evil scientists who wanted to send him to Titan, and instead aligns with the good scientists, who send him to Titan! Score one for the little guy. Roll credits.

Characterization is pretty bare-bones. Sam (Rick) loves his wife and kid. Wife loves him. Evil scientist is evil. Within such stick-figure roles it seems a shame to complain about acting, so all I can say is they're fine, Tom Wilkinson's BBC tones are a joy to listen to but also a reminder that "bad guy speaks with a British accent" is exactly how stupid this movie is.

There's potential here, I think, some different ways you could have gone with this idea. Body horror as Rick (Sam) slowly realizes the changes that are turning him into something alien, or is driven mad by the process. Or maybe a morality play, asking: Is it ethical to save the human race if it means turning us into something inhuman? Would you be willing to make that choice? But nope, instead they go the dumbest, most obvious evil-science take on the concept. The genetic treatment is painted as outright evil, because the big scientist lied, and lying is wrong. Thank you, elementary school ethics class.

Star lab rat Rick (Sam) -- or quite possibly Sam (Rick) -- undergoes agony as he is slowly transformed into a human-alien hybrid, but he does not lie, or do violence, or actually do anything other than suffer, which makes him good and the savior of the human race. Not the mad scientist who actually made his transformation possible, mind you, but the guinea pig, the guy who just sat there and was injected with shit--him, he's the hero.

So, consider yourself spoiled. And warned: this Titan is an intellectual midget.

Woken Furies

Title: Woken Furies
Author: Richard Morgan
Publisher: Gollancz

Maybe there's something both sad and inevitable in the way the idealism of youth gives way to the practicality and compromise of middle age, and so on down that slippery moral slope to the conservatism of our golden years. When the hippy generation rose to power we got not peace and love but two Gulf wars and a housing bubble. 

Woken Furies, the third in Richard Morgan's cyberpunk series featuring taciturn badass anti-hero Takeshi Kovacs, is Kovacs in middle age, the burning fervor of Altered Carbon tempered through the fires of Broken Angels, now reduced to nostalgic bitterness and disillusionment.

It's a far more meandering book than the first two in the series, a blurry, unfocused plot in dire need of bifocals, as former government super-soldier Kovacs returns to his birthplace of Harlan's World on the path of revenge, then becomes a fugitive among robot-hunting mercenaries, then rounds up a group of ageing revolutionaries in order to stage a rescue, then has to do it all over again. Spoilers!

The writing in the sense of painting-pretty-pictures-with-words is still top class though, and Kovacs' return to the Japanese-influenced Harlan's World allows Morgan to slip in some dry jokes among the place names: Tekitomura ("Random town"), Tadaimako ("Welcome back") Harbour, Muko ("Over there") Prospect.

It's the tone and theme, however, that have come the furthest since Altered Carbon.

While Kovacs remains his monosyllabic, irresistible-to-women self (tangent: did Morgan have it in his contract that Kovacs would have full-on triple-X sex with two separate women in each novel? Because it works out exactly--two technicolor sex scenes with two individuals. Every. Damn. Book.) but instead of the eat-the-rich anger of Altered Carbon, he's now cynical about political causes, noting that revolutionaries care as little about the individual as the repressive governments they plan to overthrow.

During his time among the mercenaries, Kovacs meets Oshima, a woman who may have downloaded into her own brain a copy of the consciousness of Quellcrist Falconer, a near-legendary rebel leader and kind of moral lodestone for Kovacs throughout the series. Only now, faced with the possibility of meeting his idol, Kovacs is disinterested, wanting only to restore Oshima's personality and individuality. The other ex-revolutionaries, on the other hand, have very different priorities.

It's not just politics that's grown up, though. Kovacs' return to his homeworld brings him into contact with many of his old associates from his youth, and from his time as an "Envoy" (a sort of intergalactic space commando), and he learns the hard way that the way he remembers things are not the way others do, that our happy peaks are sometimes our friends' lowest troughs, that our friends grow apart from us and we discover there really wasn't that much keeping us together in the first place, save for the convenience of proximity and time.

He even--bigger spoilers--comes face to face with a younger version of himself, and hates what he sees.

To the extent that living on this funny old world of ours has imparted me with any wisdom whatsoever, these realizations ring true, though I'm not sure what anyone could do with this knowledge--if you're young, you probably don't believe it, and if you're not (like me) well, then it's already too late, innit?

Those themes can be a little hard to see as you're wading through yet another rat-at-at action sequence or a squishy sex scene, but once you put the book down for a bit and let it sit, these things come into focus and leave you with an appropriately somber, reflective mood for the end of the trilogy.
  

The Lemmiest of Movies: Annihilation

Title: Annihilation
Directed by: Alex Garland
Screenplay by: Alex Garland

This is another one of those times when I'm oddly relieved I don't live in America, as this tremendously simplifies the streaming service landscape: everything's on Netflix. Star Trek? Netflix. The Expanse? Netflix. Quirky movies that the studio apparently has no faith in? Netflix.

Annihilation is extremely loosely based on the very Lemmy book I reviewed earlier, and according to my extensive, in-depth, exhaustive research on the film's Wikipedia page, one of the financiers felt it was too nerdy and a deal was struck with Netflix for international distribution. And there was much rejoicing. Their loss is my gain.

Although it shares the same title as the book, this is very much its own thing. Director Alex Garland (Director/Screenwriter of Ex Machina and Screenwriter on Dredd, Never Let Me Go and Sunshine) takes the basic premise--five women scientists go into a weirdo paranormal zone of alien origin called Area X, located on the Florida coast and centered about a lighthouse--and uses it to tell what is essentially a completely different story.

Instead of existential dread and man's disconnect from nature, we get body horror and fear of mortality. Largely, these changes are all to the good, turning the aimless navel-gazing of the book into something as honed and pointed as an alligator's tooth or bear's claw. It's only let down at the end, when the last 15-20 minutes or so go full on 2001-ish psychedelic lights and  exploding jellyfish that it kind of loses its footing and goes from OMG to WTF.

The actresses almost all underact their asses off here, angling for existential disassociation that honestly, makes them a bit bland to watch, especially leads Natalie Portman (Luke and Leia's mom) and Jennifer Jason Leigh. There are some zippy scenes between Portman and her husband, played by Oscar Isaacs (Poe Dameron), but once we get in to Area X everyone goes into stunned fish look. About the only one who leaves much of an impression is Goina Rodriguez, as unhinged paramedic Anya.

It's not a movie to watch for the performances, really, but for the atmosphere. Taken together, the movie is not so much scary as unsettling. There's a lot of strangeness going on as the alien zone warps and twists the life of everything inside it, including our five intrepid heroines, as deer grow flowers on their antlers, flowers grow in human shapes, sand is transformed into crystal trees and people's intestines get up and go walkies.

In the limited field of direct-to-Netflix movies, it beats the pants off of Mute, at any rate. It's unique, it's got its own style, a couple of things it wants to show you, and isn't too hung up on action and spectacle. If this is the future of moviegoing, I for one am fully on board.

Dubble Deighton

In keeping with my recent fad for aerial adventure, here's two more that have been on my reading list:

Title: Bomber
Author: Len Deighton
Publisher: HarperCollins

Absolutely blown away by this book, ranks right up there with some of the great military fiction, like James Jones's Thin Red Line, Wolfgang Petersen's Das Boot, Catch 22, Slaughterhouse Five or Karl Marlantes' Matterhorn.

Bomber follows a single RAF night bombing raid over Germany from a number of perspectives: Lancaster bomber pilot Sam Lambert, German night fighter pilot Victor Lowenherz, radar station commander August Bach, and the inhabitants of the fictitious town of Altgarten.

The build-up to the raid is excruciatingly tense and slow-paced, as the participants go through their little pre-flight rituals, squabble or brown-nose with comrades and commanders, or make unrealistic plans for their futures. I'll admit the first third of the book can be a bit frustrating, as you're introduced to yet another set of characters who stumble into the story, wishing they'd DAMN WELL GET ON WITH IT. Which is the beauty of this section I suppose: that's precisely what all the bomber crews would be thinking.

The only part that still doesn't work for me in this part is the constant reminders and descriptions of the weather patterns and cloud formations. If this is intended to be ominous, it doesn't quite work, leaving me a little bit lost amid all the stratocumulous and cirrus nimbus.

The bombing raid itself, by contrast, is absolutely riveting.

Once the bombers take off, pretty much everything goes straight to hell more or less immediately. Planes ram into flocks of birds and crash. Pathfinders are shot down or mark the wrong targets. Fire hoses run out of water. Rescuers are killed by unexploded bombs.

The two contrasting themes are the mechanization of war and the extent to which soldiers and airmen become mere tools on the one hand, and the all-too-human jealousy, infighting and office politics that plagues everything that happens outside of the combat zone.

There's a wealth of technical detail here, but it's to Deighton's credit that this never (apart from the cloud formations) overwhelms the story. The sometimes arch observations on the nature of war, particularly from Lancaster pilot Lambert--the eagerness of the young to destroy, the speed with which war reduces them to automata, the ultimate futility of bravery in a war where individual contribution counts for nothing--really hit home hard by the end of the book.

Title: Fighter
Author: Len Deighton
Publisher: William Collins

Despite the parallel titles and identical author, Fighter is nothing like Bomber in the least.

Instead of a fictional account of a single action, this is a historical overview of the complete Battle of Britain in 1940, when Hitler and Goering's Luftwaffe tried to smash the RAF. Or did they? One of Deighton's major points throughout the book is that the Germans were extremely vague on what they were trying to accomplish--destroy the RAF, provide cover for a seaborne invasion or destroy Britain's capacity to resist one?

As with Bomber though, Deighton seems to take real pleasure in describing the technical aspects of war, the operation of radar and the Luftwaffe's guidance systems, the aerodynamic properties and characteristics of the Bf109 and Spitfire, pilot training schedules and aircraft production statistics. Some of this is fascinating--such as the fighter plane design and how it impacted both armament and flight performance (and therefore tactics). The Luftwaffe guidance systems, on the other hand, I just found a bit of a chore to read through, and still don't really understand.

As you might expect, there's a corresponding paucity of first-hand accounts. A couple of British pilots describe encounters, but that's about it. So frustratingly, there isn't much of a sense of what it was actually like for the people actually fighting this battle.

In the end, I'm a little perplexed by this book. It goes into such detail on the fighters and the tactics employed (especially on the German side--e.g. have fighters fly high above the bombers or down with them?) but even at the end of the book, I'm still not quite sure why they didn't wipe the floor with the RAF, other than due to lack of interest. The weather turned bad and Hitler, never especially interested in conquering Britain, turned towards Russia.

A bit depressing to realize that after all those deaths, one side just couldn't be bothered any more, but that does rather dovetail nicely with the message of Bomber.

Flying off the pages

Recently I've been interested in books about combat flying, including the two reviewed below. Very different books, but each enjoyable in their own way.

Title: Lords of the Sky
Author: Dan Hampton
Publisher: William Morrow

This first one tries to be comprehensive, covering the whole history of air combat from World War 1 right up to the author's own experiences as an F-16 pilot in the First Gulf War.

Chapter layout is pretty standardized: First you get a fictionalized 'account' of some encounter during the period. Then Dan explains the situation on the ground--who invaded who, and why the former was usually the Germans--followed by a very detailed account of pilot training programs, perhaps a few details of one or two notable pilots or aircraft, then more explanation of what was going on a few thousand meters below their feet.

The fictionalized accounts are the best parts of the book, excitingly written if of dubious historicity, while the rest of the chapters tend to explain a lot more about the wars in general than about the actual specifics of air combat in each era. As a result each chapter feels as padded as a flight suit, an impression reinforced by the extensive appendices, glossary of terms and excerpt from another of Dan's works, as if there was a page count to meet and he couldn't fill it. Dan also frequently falls victim to the desire to editorialize and spout fairly cookie-cutter hoohah opinions on all things military.

Could have been about a quarter of the length without losing any detail on actual air combat.

Title: Carrier Pilot
Author: Norman Hanson
Publisher: Silvertail Books

In contrast to the above book, this is one man's memoir rather than an attempt at a historical overview. The man in question, Norman Hanson, signed up with the RAF, was sent to the USA for training, then posted to Egypt and finally to HMS Illustrious, operating in the Pacific Ocean against the Imperial Japanese.

If none of those engagements strikes you as terribly central to the course of World War 2, it should come as no surprise that Mr Hanson didn't actually see all that much action, and the bulk of the book is instead occupied by tales of drinking and singing in various bits of the USA and the Empire, punctuated by about three instances where he actually fired his guns in anger.

These rear-area shenanigans quickly get repetitive, whose boredom is only broken by the author's Boy's Own magazine writing style, about things going "like the clappers" and things being a jolly good show eh what? It's perhaps not the author's fault, but he does rather sound like he just stepped out of a Monty Python "Upper Class Twit" sketch.

The most impressive part of the account of actual battle is the absolute, terrible and utter slaughter the Allies were able to inflict upon their own pilots. Primarily, this seems to have been because the fighter Hanson flew, the F4U Corsair, was a bit of a death trap for new pilots or when attempting to land on a carrier.

At one point, for example, Hanson states the carrier air wing lost 41 aircraft, only 16 of them in combat. The other 25 were from ditchings or crash landings. Indeed, the only two times the author's life seem in genuine danger are when he's forced to ditch to avoid hitting another plane, and when a friendly destroyer accidentally fires on them in an attempt to get at the "Japs."

Ordinarily, this might be a cause for sober reflection, but Hanson is far too psychotically British stiff upper lip for that, and any sadness over the repeated and grisly demise of his closest companions is done away with by a stiff drink and a sentimental tune on the piano.

Jolly good show.

A Break from Cyberpunk: Broken Angels

Title: Broken Angels
Author: Richard Morgan
Publisher: Gollancz

In this semi-sequel to Altered Carbon, Richard Morgan's body hopping anti-hero Takeshi Kovacs returns, this time to take two-fisted aim at corporate greed and the commercialization of war.  

Sixty years after the events of Carbon (which is referenced briefly once then promptly forgotten), Kovacs is now a mercenary fighting on the revolution-wracked world of Sanction IV, where rebels are liberally dispensing nukes to anyone they don't like, while the corporate-backed cartel government is using even worse weapons.

In the midst of all this, Kovacs is approached by a deserter from the rebel side with a proposition: help uncover a 'Martian' artifact found on the planet, and help everyone involved become filthy rich. (Martians being the colloquial name for a race of presumably-extinct highly advanced aliens whose ruins mankind has discovered).

To that end, Kovacs assembles a team consisting of such Dirty Dozen tropes as the Demolitions Expert, the Ninja Assassin, the Hotshot Pilot and you get the idea. They all go traipsing off to a highly irradiated beach that will inevitably kill them all as they dig for said artifact.

Oh that's right, this is the universe where people's consciousness is digitally backed up in a 'cortical stack' implanted inside their spines, allowing them to be ported from one body to another or even squirted across space to another star. 

Now, being backed up strikes me as being pretty cold comfort if you're dead (Morgan establishes in graphic detail that getting shot in the head still kills you--the stack is a backup, not the real you). I could see it being a kind of life insurance deal (at least my family will be provided for, etc.) in the event of accidental death, but in Broken Angels a whole platoon of guys go into a hot zone knowing they are 100% positively absotively going to die, and comfort themselves with the knowledge that their digital selves will enjoy a reward afterwards. That seems a trifle ... psychotic. No?

Removed from Altered Carbon's urban setting this feels much more military scifi than cyberpunk, though to be honest the secret elite crack super-soldier crack elite super squad do very little but die of radiation exposure and have graphic sex with Kovacs.

And can I point out how creepy it is to have vivid sex scenes in a book that's written in first person? Who exactly are we supposed to imagine Kovacs is telling all these slippery, gushy, wet and wild stories to? I wish I could say this was an indication Kovacs is an unreliable narrator who is far too into himself, but the rest of the book is presented as fact. I just picture the interviewer or amanuensis's horrified face as Kovacs wades into excruciating details about glands and secretions and thrusting and moaning. Hope they were paid well.

The message is presented with a little more nuance here than in Altered Carbon, even if the message itself is still not terribly subtle. In Altered Carbon, it was 'rich=bad, so rise up and murder the bastards.' Here, corporations that profit from war are in the target sights, but so are fanatics who use their revolutionary fervor to justify their revolting actions. It's balanced, but it does rather mean it reaches conclusions as trite as 'war is bad,' 'ruthless companies are bad' and 'fanaticism is bad.'

All that said, this is my favorite of the three Kovacs books. A sense of impending doom builds throughout the book, with the soldiers working to unravel the mystery before radiation unravels their DNA, culminating in an apocalyptic burst of action that is much more original and satisfying than, say, Altered Carbon's endless techno-ninja shenanigans. On the other hand, that does mean it's more slow-moving, which may test the patience of people expecting more of the same from the last book.

Altered Johansson: Ghost in the Shell

Title: Ghost in the Shell
Director: Ruper Sanders (Snow White and the Huntsman)
Screenplay: Jamie Moss, William Wheeler, Ehren Kruger

Let's get one thing out of the way right from the start: This isn't very good. What's interesting to me is the similarities to Netflix's recent cyberpunky titstravaganza, Altered Carbon, and the way they both fail for much the same reasons.

The main problems are the cast--the wrong people in the wrong roles--and the movie's attempts to "humanize" the heroes when the dehumanizing, alienating impact of body-invasive technology is the whole bleeding point.

Not because of the whitewashing thing--as I mentioned in the Altered Carbon review, living in Japan puts a different perspective on the issue for me: Lack of Japanese representation is not really a problem in Japan. On account of it being chock full of Japanese, I suppose. The other point being the silliness of insisting on the 'correct' ethnicity of a character that is, let's be clear about this, a purple-haired cyborg. I'm not saying Hollywood shouldn't make more effort to cast Asians in roles other than kung fu masters and wise old karate sensei. Just saying this is a pretty damn stupid hill to die on.

So Scarlett Johansson as the Major doesn't bug me because of whitewashing. It bugs me because this is absolutely the wrong role for her, wrong, wrong, pouring the milk before adding the cereal wrong. She can do silent and weird or creepy (as in Under the Skin), but the script wants her to alternate between kickass cyberninja and little girl lost/confused about who she is, and it does not work. At all. She looks like she's trying to remember her lines, not her past.

The reason they have her moping around looking like her hamster just died is the writers have decided, just as they did in Altered Carbon, that the hero wasn't sympathetic enough, so they've stuffed her backstory full of cyberpunk tropes 101 and shrunken their world so that absolutely everything revolves around her and this little voyage of discovery she goes on.

Pilou Asbaek (Game of Thrones) is better than I expected given how over-the-top his scenes in GoT are, but he's barely in the movie. Pretty much the only non-Johansson to get some decent screen time is "Beat" Takeshi Kitano who--again this is a living in Japan thing--strikes me as having all the gravitas of a whoopee cushion with none of the sophistication. Doesn't help that he doesn't speak English, so he's literally the only one in the whole movie delivering his lines in Japanese.

Sure there's one or two cool set pieces (like the clip above), but they're lifted directly from the original anime, so I'm reluctant to even give points there--there are entire scenes that are shot-for-shot remakes, just to rub your face in how unnecessary this movie is. What else? The cars look like unfinished video game models, the cityscape is Blade Runner done cheap, and the climax is a total cop-out on the whole message of the movie.

If you must scratch the cyberpunk itch, watch Altered Carbon (for punches and boobs) or Blade Runner (for moody introspection) instead.

The Sky Crawlers

Title: The Sky Crawlers
Director: Mamoru Oshii
Screenplay: Chihiro Ito

Recently got the urge to watch something about aerial combat, and remembered this little 2008 Japanese animated movie. I mention it for two reasons: One, the dogfighting scenes are amazing. Watch the video. Second, it strikes me as a shining example of the dangers of applying Western critical thought to foreign movies.

The Sky Crawlers presents a world without war, in which companies are hired to wage air battles for show, with airplanes piloted by zombie-faced teenagers. The hero's squadron is in turn terrorized by an enemy ace known only as the "Teacher," while the hero himself struggles to understand what happened to the pilot he replaced.

A lot of reviews--like this one or this one zero in on an apparent anti-war message. In one scene, one of the main characters even appears to lay down this message like a butcher setting out slabs of meat: War is part of human nature, she says, and if there were ever no war we would have to invent it.

Now there's nothing the Internet likes more than to say "Actually..." so let me break in here to say "Actually..." Westerners are missing the subtext. The fact that the enemy ace is called the Teacher--such as a HIGH SCHOOL teacher--is not random. The fact that all the pilots are HIGH SCHOOL AGED teenagers is not random. The fact that pilots speak Japanese on the ground but English (which is taught in Japanese HIGH SCHOOLS) in the air is not random.

I'm even suspicious of the above-mentioned scene where the character appears to state the theme. She does so in a very droning, glass-eyed way, suggesting someone who has been taught what to say by rote: Rote learning is one of the most criticized aspects of teaching at Japanese HIGH SCHOOLS.

This movie is a very strong strong criticism of the Japanese educational system, claiming that it mass-produces cannon fodder who are mercilessly torn apart by their Teacher, and by a world that applauds rather than cries over their suffering.

Anway, great dogfighting scenes, a bit slow, but an interesting glimpse into the Japanese psyche.

The Expanse (Seasons 1 and 2)

Title: The Expanse (Season 1: 2015, Season 2: 2017)
Developed by: Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby
Network: Netflix (Syfy)

The Expanse is a space opera series based on the book series of the same name by Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, and one of the few things I'll review on here (other than Iain M Banks' Use of Weapons) that I unreservedly like. It's engaging, it's refreshing, it feels genuinely new the way the sixth Star Trek, the second Battlestar Galactica or the third Stargate series never will.

It's got a slightly harder real-world science feel, though interplanetary travel still happens at the speed of the plot but LOOK HUSH YOU NEVER MIND, and vastly harder real-word politics as the solar system is divided between Earth and Mars, with natives from the asteroid belt and Jovian moons called Belters caught in the middle.

It's one of the few properties to get gritty/grimdark RIGHT. Game of Thrones and its imitators would have you believe that the black hats always win, the white ones lose, or if they do by some miracle not cock up everything irretrievably, it's by learning how to be arseholes.

But that's just as simplistic as the space operas and fantasies that grimdark has shivved on its way to the throne of popular culture. What the Expanse does is understand that reality is messy, people are messy, and if you want to be really gritty you've got to reflect that.

The characters are screwed up, sometimes trying to do the right thing, not always quite succeeding. Thomas Jane is an early standout as Joe Miller, a crooked cop assigned to track down a rich man's rebellious daughter, who gradually grows a conscience and a cause.

The pacing is a little odd, I'll give you that. The real climax from the first book takes place in the middle of season 2. Season 1 just kind of, like, abruptly ends, a bit like this se

The only genuine downside here is that it's so good, watching this show has kind of spoiled me on Star Trek Discovery, shining a spotlight on how cartoonish ST:D's attempts at seriousness are and how overly-reliant on cheap, unearned twists it is.

Altered Carbon: Episode 1

Title: Altered Carbon, Episode 1
Director: Miguel Sapochnik
Network: Netflix

The Basics

Based on the Richard K Morgan book of the same name.

Revolutionary idealist and guerrilla/rebel-turned-mercenary Takeshi Kovacs (Joel Kinnaman) gets cornered and killed by government enforcers on an alien planet. Luckily, he and everyone else has a digitized backup of his brain (which makes zero sense), so 250 years later he is downloaded into the body of a 38-year-old Swedish-American actor who starred in the RoboCop reboot and Suicide Squad. Nice work if you can get it.

Turns out he's been sprung from digital prison by the richest man in the world and the best thing in HBO's "Rome" (Laurens Bancroft and James Purefoy, respectively) to solve the man's own murder. In return, he's offered a full pardon and (Dr Evil pose) ONE MILLION DOLLARS. Being a good revolutionary, he tells Mr 0.1% to go stuff himself, until he gets ambushed at his hotel by a posse of hitmen (see video). 

Also along for the ride is the detective assigned to the Bancroft case, Kristin Ortega (Martha Higareda) and a whole lot of boobies. 

Fist Impressions (sic)

It's so deliriously over the top in everything it does--like it's been adapted by a bunch of 16 year olds--that it's easy to forgive the clunky exposition and wooden acting.

Definitely the show seems to believe that more is more. For example, the above scene in the book involves just two hitmen, who get taken out by a single Gatling gun. Here, there's half a dozen who get blown to pieces in an extended bloodbath by TWO machine guns, plus the hotel AI bartender has a shotgun (which is obviously needed when you have two sentry guns firing 100 rounds a second each), plus Kovacs does a bunch of punching and kicking in the middle of the bulletstorm.

Same with the prologue. In the book, Kovacs gets ambushed by a couple of paramilitaries, who gun him down on the spot. In the show, there is an extended gun battle replete with people hiding from assault rifle bullets behind that byword for armor plating, a kitchen counter.

The sleazy sexiness is also in full Showgirls mode, with a surprisingly high number of tits on the screen at any given moment. Detective Ortega takes Kovacs for an expository drink at  a strip club, so if anyone asks why I was there, I'll tell them it's because I was solving JFK's murder.

Dialogue is clunky, as people stand around declaiming the backstory. Kinnaman is fine in the action scenes, but I wish the directors wouldn't ask him to do anything more complicated than punch things. He isn't quite nasty enough to pull off the go-fuck-yourself attitude of his lines, nor does he put enough menace into Kovacs' threats.

The Sights and Sound of Music

The music is loud and proud too, with some sudden & intrusive outbursts of pop songs throughout the episode. One erupts over scenes of Kovacs going on a bender (that was ironically one of the tamer scenes: drugs in Altered Carbon come in eyedroppers stolen from Looper, and Kinnaman plays "high" with a roundeyed dazed expression) where it fits, the second time over a cityscape scene where the saccharine tone was just out of place. 

It doesn't quite pull off the claustrophobic crowdedness or Escher-esque geometries of a cyberpunk city, and everything is way, way too clean -- partly due to budget I guess, but partly because the camera tends to switch from medium shot to close-up, never really pulling back to give us a sense of space, until it pulls aaaall the way out and the cityscape looks like a Christmas ornament. There's one or two scenes at the start of Kovacs' drug-fuelled adventure that get a little of the sense of scope... but there hasn't been anything too neato yet.

Finally, the politics of the book seem more or less present. The mega-rich "own everything now," including our bodies, and in Kovacs' case, even our souls. Indeed, it looks like this part is going to be played up even more than it was in the book, with Kovacs changed from follower of quasi-Mao/Ho Chih Minh figure Quellcrist Falconer, to an associate/contemporary. A few other changes from page to screen also reflect this new focus--Kovacs has changed from government enforcer gone rogue to out-and-out revolutionary.

Despite that, I'd actually say the politics of the show has been one of the more subtly done things, which isn't saying much for an episode that opens with a lesbian shower scene, letting you figure out for yourself the implications of economic inequality.

Anyway, I love to complain, but on balance it's shlocky good fun, that unlike Bright actually has some ideas in the background.

Asianwashing

That's the episode, now it's time to rant.

Before this came out there was the utterly predictable criticism of "whitewashing" the semi-Japanese main character, despite the fact that (A) said character's surname is Kovacs, and (B) the entire point of the series is that digitizing consciousness means what you look like is disconnected from who you are. But now that I've seen it, I must agree I am deeply disappointed in the choice of casting: You see, two actors play Kovacs' earlier (Asian) incarnations, Leonardo Nam and Will Yun Lee. His sister is played by Dichen Lachman. None of them are Japanese.

Joel Kinnaman playing a white guy I buy. But hiring Koreans and Nepalese to play the roles of Japanese characters smacks of the worst kind of racism: Do all Asians look the same? 

I'm not being facetious: every Japanese person I've ever talked to has been fine with Hollywood actors playing Asian roles, but incensed when Chinese are hired to play Japanese. It's all a matter of perspective. 

Now, that's a totally over the top overreaction, but illustrates the point: once you start insisting people of the correct ethnicity play every role, where does it stop? At some arbitrary line the actual people involved don't care about. 

I hate the creeping sensation that I'm becoming a get-off-my-lawn style old man, but the older I get, the more convinced I am that each generation is just as bigoted as the next, just about different things. Sigh. The perils of allowing the Internet to mediate your relationship with your own culture, I guess.